Chapter Nineteen
T hat Friday night is Marcia’s first date with a man named Gary. Carley comes over to do her makeup before her show. We’re all packed into the kitchen, where Marcia sits on a kitchen chair while Carley stands over her. She wanted to record it, but Marcia wouldn’t have it.
“Your generation can share your personal business with the world if you want,” Marcia says with her eyes closed. “I’m keeping mine private. Besides, what if Gary’s on TikTok and sees me making a big deal of our first date before we’ve even met?”
Adam snorts. “I seriously doubt he’s on TikTok, Grams. But I agree.”
“Fingers crossed you like the bar.” I offered to choose the venue, and even though I don’t think of Marcia as an old lady, I also don’t want her first date in years to be loud and packed with twentysomethings like Keybar.
The Flatiron Room is not too far away and described on Yelp as “a mature and relaxing environment.” Hopefully, not so mature and relaxed they fall asleep or die of boredom (or anything else).
I pour more sparkling wine into my glass. I think I’m more anxious than Marcia.
Adam holds out his glass.
I refill it.
He whispers, “You okay?”
I mouth, “Nervous.”
His eyes soften. “Me too.”
An empty bottle of prosecco later, Carley finishes doing Marcia’s face. Marcia goes to her room to change out of her NYCRUNS Central Park 5k T-shirt and leggings and into her date outfit while the rest of us pace in the kitchen.
“I hope she likes him,” I say. “But only if it’s mutual.” I’d rather her not be into him than want a second date if he doesn’t.
“Most first dates don’t go well. Keep your expectations low,” Adam says.
I’m thinking of how to ask about his last first date without sounding like I care when Carley says, “You think Marcia kisses on the first date?”
I ponder this. “I say yes, but only if she likes him.”
“Maybe they’ll go to Bonetown.”
Adam shoots grenades at Carley with his eyes.
She laughs. “Don’t be a prude. She’s seventy-something years old, which means she’s probably had more sex than all of us. And didn’t she come of age during the sexual revolution?”
Adam grabs an orange from the bowl of fruit on the kitchen island and fakes throwing it at her. “Please stop talking about my grandma and sex. It’s bad enough when she does it.”
“Maybe he’ll be your new grandpa.” I squeal, then duck when Adam launches at me.
Marcia reappears. “I’m not looking for a new husband.”
The room turns silent as we take her in. She’s wearing a white silky top with large black buttons running down the front, tucked into high-waisted black flare-leg pants and black suede booties.
I softly clap my hands.
Carley checks her from head to toe and nods with approval. “That outfit is snatched.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“It means you look good, Grams.” Adam beams with pride at his grandma.
Insisting Marcia needs accessories, Carley drags us into her bedroom and rummages through her jewelry collection until she finds the perfect heart-shaped hoop earrings and gold bangles.
She also encourages her to switch out her booties for zebra-embellished stilettos she finds in the back of the closet.
This is where Marcia draws the line. “No first date is worth suffering in four-inch heels. I’ll reserve those for date three.” She winks.
“There’s your answer about the first date.” I giggle.
“Final warning.” Adam glares but quickly laughs along with us while Marcia looks bemused, since she has no idea we were debating on which date she “goes to Bonetown.”
Finally, she’s ready to go. She walks hesitantly toward the front door in her navy peacoat, a red satin knot bag slung over her shoulder, and pauses with her hand on the knob.
“Just be yourself and have fun,” Carley says to her back.
“But not too much fun,” Adam mumbles.
I place my hand on my tummy. Nerves have turned to nausea. “Do you want me to call you in an hour in case you need an escape?” I don’t get this jittery for my own dates, but if tonight doesn’t go well I’m afraid Marcia will give up on the whole idea of getting back out there.
She turns around with a timid smile. “No need. But keep your phones nearby because I might call from the bathroom or text you under the table.” She points between me and Adam.
We promise to be on high alert for a phone call or text, and she leaves.
Carley gathers her things. “I’m out too, but text me all the deets tomorrow.”
“Of course.” We hug.
After we separate, she asks, “What will you two do now?” glancing between us with an annoying glint in her eyes.
Annoying to me because I hear the suggestion behind the words.
Of course, I told her what happened in the bathroom.
Not that anything did happen. We were just two roommates passing in the night.
Given Adam’s condition at the time, who knows if he even remembers the interaction.
I, however, recall every moment in torturous detail.
My nipples hardening even through the terry-cloth towel, the way his eyes scanned my body, the bulge in his gray…
I shake away the arousing visual of a sleepy Adam in sweatpants and empty the remains of my prosecco into my mouth.
“I don’t know about Sabrina, but I’ll probably stare at the TV from now until my grandma comes home,” Adam says.
Carley smirks. “I think you can do better than that.”
I debate asking what she and Frank plan to do next time they hang out, but she’d just laugh at my sad attempt to turn the tables. Blessedly, she’s out the door before Adam has a chance to ask her for clarification, and we’re alone.
Against the backdrop of new silence in the room, my own breath sounds like a marching band. “She’s going to have a great time.” Whether I’m trying to assure Adam or myself is anyone’s guess.
Adam sits on the couch. “Even if they don’t like each other, it’s healthy for her to be out there.”
“One hundred percent!” We nod in agreement, him from the couch, me still standing, and then it’s quiet again.
I stare at our empty champagne flutes side by side on the coffee table like they’re a couple. “It’s not like it’s her first date ever.”
“Exactly.”
“Although she’s practically born again.”
“Please stop.”
I chuckle. “Sorry.”
Adam turns on the TV.
Bonding moment over. “I guess I’ll go to my room.”
He cocks his head. “Do you want to watch with me?”
I practically leap onto the couch. “What are you watching?”
“ The Magicians .” He tips his head at me. “Have you seen it?”
“No, but I read the books.”
His lips quirk as he raises the volume. “Of course you did.”
I try to focus on the screen, but it’s no use.
I have a one-track mind and it’s 100 percent on Marcia.
By now, she’s at the bar with Gary, assuming he showed up.
If he stands her up, I will hunt him down and kick him in the balls so hard, he won’t be able to walk for the next month.
I’m positive Adam will help. He’s currently staring so intently at the screen, it’s obvious he’s not watching either.
We’re quite the pair, overprotective like parents of a fifteen-year-old on their first date.
When the comparison makes me chuckle out loud, I throw my hand against my mouth.
Adam swings his head toward me. “Did you say something?”
“Nope.”
He squints at me for a beat before turning back to the show.
I do the same. On the screen, Quentin tells Alice he’s not good in bed. She says she’s just bad at asking for what she wants. She tells him to kiss her. He takes his shirt off and slips into her bed. His hand is on her breast, but she directs it between her legs.
She gasps and… oh shit. This is hot and now I’m all wet and tingly. I squirm and cross my legs before braving a glance at Adam.
His Adam’s apple bobs in a heavy gulp a moment before his eyes slide to me and quickly back to the show. He grips the remote. Hard .
Of all the shows he could have chosen. Of all the episodes. But we can’t change it because it will be so obvious why we changed it. It’s not a big deal. We can handle this. It’s a sex scene. Big whoop. We’re grown-ups. Neither of us are virgins. And it will be over soon.
Except now Alice is riding Quentin and they’re both moaning.
Adam turns to me and licks his lips.
I lick mine.
There’s a moment of hesitation before he inches toward me.
Boom . I hurl myself onto his lap.