Chapter 11
Eleven
LUCA
I ’m thrilled that Marissa was obviously so eager to go out with me again when I asked her, and I’m not going to leave any part of this date unplanned. I have never felt so motivated to put planning into a date. Normally I’m a big go-with-the-flow kind of guy. But with Marissa, I want to make sure that everything goes perfectly and, most of all, that she feels special. She deserves magic in her life. I want to be the one to create that for her.
I’ve decided that we are going to have a picnic on the beach at the lake. That makes it easy to do all the things that I want to do with her. The lake is also arguably the best place in the whole area if you want to go on a romantic date.
The foliage is beautiful right now, and I know a nice secluded spot on the edge of the water. It’s not so secluded that it will feel creepy, but if there are other people around, we’ll still be able to have a private space for ourselves.
I open the rustic picnic basket that I found in the garage. I’ve already packed and repacked it twice. I’m not trying to be fussy, but I just want to make sure that I’ve gotten everything right, and that I haven’t forgotten anything.
On the advice of some of my female friends, I’ve decided to do a sort of charcuterie board. Eleanor insisted that it would feel lighter than sandwiches and cleaner than fried chicken. Besides that, it will fill us up. When I questioned the logic in that statement, Eleanor just shook her head at me like I was being dense.
I have some fancy cheeses, a crusty baguette, a bunch of different types of crackers, fresh fruit including strawberries, grapes, and watermelon, as well as some sliced meats and fresh pastries. I have to congratulate myself on how delicious everything looks.
In another bag, I have packed up a variety of beverages, including sparkling grape juice and a thermos of lemonade. There are also six water bottles. I know that I’m overdoing it, but I want to make sure that Marissa is comfortable.
My phone buzzes, and I see that it’s Angelo. I pick up. “Hey, bro, what’s up?” I ask in an even tone. After his weird retaliation-fueled rant earlier, I just don’t want to rile him up again.
“Where are you?” Angelo asks.
I sort through the extra small things that I’m bringing - nuts, olives, hummus, extra containers of fresh herbs for a pinch of seasoning here and there - while I try to decide how much I want to tell him. If I admit that I’m going on a date, then I know he’ll badger me, until I tell him who it’s with. If I lie and make something up, then I have to remember what I tell him, and as lies go, I might end up forgetting what I said. Not a fan of lying. Still - neither option is ideal.
Finally, I say, “I’m hanging out with a friend tonight.”
“Oh,” Angelo says. Then he pauses. “Can I come with you?”
“Sorry,” I say. “We’re heading out to do some fishing.” Shoot. I fibbed before even thinking.
“Cool, cool,” Angelo says. “I hate fishing, so I think that’s a hard no from me.”
I know how much he hates fishing, which is, I’m sure, why I mentioned it. There is no way that I would actually go fishing on a date, but we are going to the lake, so I feel like I’ll remember what I told him. I don’t like lying to my family, but I can tell what Marissa and I could have is special. I want to give it a chance before I let anyone influence us.
“Well, have fun,” Angelo says, sounding glum. I almost feel bad for him.
“Why don’t you call Mike?” I ask. “You could go to Jack’s .”
“Eh,” says Angelo. “They only have darts and billiards. That’s boring.”
“Only boring people get bored,” I say, parroting our mother.
“Ugh, okay, okay! I’ll call Mike,” Angelo says as he hangs up on me.
I know that he isn’t mad, but maybe a little disappointed. I feel bad for him for a moment, but it’s short-lived. I’m deeply excited to go live my own life - for a change. I shove my cell phone into my back pocket and pick up the small bouquet of flowers that I picked up at the flower shop in downtown Fox River Falls. I think Marissa will like them.
After I’m reassured that everything is how it needs to be, I grab a portable bluetooth speaker, so we can have music while we hang out. That’s one of the things that I’m most curious about: her favorite music artists. I love music, and if I can share some of my favorites with her, that would be great, too. These are all small things, but they feel huge to me; especially when I think of sharing them with Marissa.
Eleanor said that I should pack a frisbee. I was seriously skeptical; I told her that felt like I was hanging out with the guys, rather than having a romantic date. But she tartly informed me that Jim, her husband, had brought a frisbee on one of their first dates, and that was when she fell for him. I’m still not convinced that’s a good idea. We’re supposed to be getting to know each other, not getting into some weird competition.
Satisfied that everything is ready, I load up the car and head over to pick Marissa up at the library. I get why she doesn’t want me to pick her up at the restaurant or at her house. She still lives with her parents. They might recognize me, and that would throw all of our carefully laid plans out the window. I don’t think that there’s any stock in the idea that Marissa’s family is behind the food poisoning. I think it was just unfortunate.
Marissa is sitting on the library steps, reading a book, and looking picture perfect. She takes my breath away. Her long black curly hair frames her face, and the gentle breeze lifts and plays with it. She’s wearing a green dress, white tennis shoes, a matching green bow tied in her hair. Next to her, on the steps, is her purse and sweater.
I pull up to the curb and park the car. As I step out, she looks up, and I wave. She waves back, and I see a look of shyness cross her face. I hope that it’s just because this is our first real date, like a planned event. I feel like we’ve known one another always, even though there’s so much about each other that we have to learn. It’s more of a kindred familiarity… like, our souls have known one another since the beginning of time and are just finding one another at last, in the flesh.
“Luca,” she says, standing and gathering her things in one swoop. She waits until I’m at the bottom step, then she leans over and kisses me on the cheek. A wave of warmth spreads from my cheeks to my toes, and I think I could die a happy man right here, right now, on these library steps. I’m falling for her hard and fast.
“Are you ready to go?” I ask, trying to convey a calm and confident air, despite the tornado rattling about my heart. She nods, and when we get to the car, I open the door for her.
“Such a gentleman,” Marissa says, giving me a teasing smile, but I can tell that she likes the gesture.
As we drive to the lake, we chat about ourselves. I find that we have a lot in common, more than I had originally thought. Even though we’ve had dinner together before, I feel like our conversation is much more relaxed this time. We’re sharing silly stories from elementary school, when I turn onto the road headed towards the lake.
“So, what exactly are we going to do on this date?” Marissa asks.
“It’s a surprise,” I reply.
“I like surprises,” Marissa says.
I want to tell her that normally I hate surprises, and I wouldn’t blame her if she felt the same way. I don’t, though. I do want to surprise her with everything on this date. I follow the road, as it curves around the lake toward the beach. It’s the perfect time of day to arrive, late afternoon. We lucked out and got a sunny, cloudless afternoon, so we might be able to climb up to the bluff and catch the sunset after we eat.
I park in the lot next to the beach. We both climb out, and I retrieve the basket from the back. I hold my hand out to Marissa, and she takes it. We stroll across the sand. There are a decent number of people here, but I guide Marissa away from the main area and up a little trail that ends at a large, flat rock with a view of the lake.
“This is lovely,” Marissa says.
“I used to come here with my brother growing up,” I say. “I’d fish, and he would throw rocks into the water so the fish would swim away. That’s got to be some kind of metaphor for our relationship now.” Marissa laughs, sending more tornadoes to swirl my heart around. Every little thing she does seems to have that effect on me. Her laughter, her playful gaze, the way she nervously twirls her curls around her finger, even the way she eats so delicately… no woman has ever had this kind of effect on me.
“What can I do to help?” Marissa asks, bringing my back out of my head.
“Help me lay out the blanket?” I request.
Marissa grabs one end of the picnic blanket while I grab the other. We spread the cover out, and I set the picnic basket down in the middle. We settle down, and I realize that I’ve never brought anyone else here. I’m sure plenty of people know about this spot. It isn’t that hidden. For my whole life, though, it’s felt like a sacred place that only my brother and I know about. Bringing Marissa here wasn’t something I even questioned; I just knew I needed to share this special space with her. My heart is making itself very clear to me.
“Let me help you unpack all of this,” Marissa says, opening the picnic basket. “Wow, Luca! I know that you can cook, but all of this- this is incredible! It looks fantastic.”
As we take everything out of the picnic basket, I realize that I might have overdone it a touch. But Marissa seems impressed, so I decide not to sweat it. When we have everything out, I grab the two plastic champagne flutes I brought and pour some of the sparkling grape juice into them.
“How about a toast?” I say.
“Okay,” Marissa says, smiling shyly, as she takes the glass. “What shall we toast to?”
“Us,” I say. All I want to do is take her in my arms and kiss her, but I’m grateful I have a good deal of self-control. I am confident that there will be plenty of time for that later.
“To us,” Marissa echoes.
We clink glasses and drink. There is something light, airy, and magical about the moment that I don’t want to end.
Then we dig in. Eleanor was right about what to bring. I’m relieved. Left to my own devices, I had considered making more Greek food, which might have gotten cold; or even trying to cook over a campfire. Both ideas still sound romantic to me, but they have a place for another time. I make a little mental note to file away under my ‘future dates with Marissa’ idea bank. Today, the charcuterie spread is perfect for our picnic.
I turn on my favorite playlist, and ask, “What are some of your favorite songs? I’d like to add them to my playlist.”
Marissa looks surprised by the question, but then she says, “Could you add some Laufey ? I love her jazzy sound. I’m also a huge fan of Benson Boone and Stephen Sanchez , if you want to add some of theirs, too…oh, and I love Mozart , Andrea Bocelli , and Lauren Daigle … I could go on and on, you know. You asking me what my favorite songs are is like asking God what His favorite flowers are. I love music, and I have come to appreciate so many different genres and artists. I think, at times, I’m more of a mood listener and pick my song of choice to fit my mood… kind of like creating a soundtrack for that moment of my life.”
It’s obvious that music is a topic Marissa and I could discuss for hours, a heartfelt passion of hers. I’m intrigued even more, and every moment I spend with her only increases my intrigue and attraction of this beautiful woman. We continue our dinner, as the sounds of our mingled music tastes flow softly around us- classical, jazz, country, gospel, soul… we scan the whole gamut. It’s the perfect ‘soundtrack for the moment,’ as Marissa calls it.
“So now we know a little more about each other,” I say, gesturing to the speaker. “Do you want to play a game?”
“What kind of game?” Marissa asks. She seems slightly suspicious.
I laugh. “Just a getting to know you game.”
Marissa looks relieved. “Sure, okay,” she says.
“I’ll go first. Basically, I was just thinking we can ask each other silly getting-to-know-you questions, and maybe we just say the first thing that comes to our mind,” I say. “Like, what’s your favorite dessert?”
“Homemade or store bought?” she asks.
“Both,” I say.
“Homemade, I’d have to say tiramisu. Store bought? Twinkies,” Marissa says. “Okay, my turn. What is the worst injury you’ve ever gotten.”
“Easy. I broke my arm falling off the monkey bars at school, but it wasn’t just a simple broken arm. You could see my bone,” I say. “I got a lot of street cred for that one.”
“Ew,” Marissa says with a squeal of horror.
We continue the game, and I learn that she loves horses, penguins, rock hunting, and dreams of taking a cross-country road trip one day. She is extremely passionate about music, for sure. I also learn that she hates working in the restaurant, but doesn’t know yet what she wants to do with her life. The stories that stem from our questions have us both spanning our lives and sharing all kinds of memories, from young and recent, but especially ones that have to do with our families. We are laughing so hard by the end, that tears are running down both of our faces. I feel like I’ve known Marissa forever, and I hope that she feels like she knows me better now as well.
I notice that the sun is starting to set. “Hey, do you want to hike up to the bluff to watch the sunset?” I ask.
“For sure,” Marissa replies. “Let’s get this stuff all packed back into the car, and then we can head off.”
By the time we’re on the trail up to the bluff, the sun has dipped even lower. “Thank you for this date,” Marissa says. “I don’t think anyone has ever done something this special… this romantic for me before.”
“You deserve all of this - and more - every day,” I say, looking deeply into her eyes and catching my breath. I know that I sound cheesy, but I don’t care.
Marissa gazes back intently, then reaches out and takes my hand. We twine our fingers together, and remain that way for the rest of the hike. By the time we get to the top, we are in the prime viewing window. All the light is golden, and it makes Marissa look even more like an angel.
“Let’s get a selfie,” she suggests. I’m grateful she thinks to do so - I definitely want documented proof that this happened. And I will cherish being able to have a picture of her to look at when we’re not together. Otherwise, I might think that this has all been a dream.
“Should we stay up here until the stars come out?” I suggest.
Marissa nods enthusiastically. “This is the best date, Luca. Thank you, again.”
We find a spot to sit, another outcropping of rock, still warm from being in the sun all day. Marissa nestles into my arms, and we sit quietly while the night starts to come alive all around us. Animals and insects that weren’t prevalent a few minutes before are suddenly making a cacophony around us. In a way it even sounds like a symphony. I know what people mean now when they say that their song is made up of all the sounds that represent their relationship, not an actual musical number. I mention this thought to Marissa, and she takes out her phone to record it.
We continue to lounge on the rock in a companionable silence. Darkness falls all around us, and soon stars are coming out one by one. Neither of us says anything, and I hope that Marissa doesn’t want to let the magic of the moment end.
When we start to get cold, we decide to head back down to the car, hand in hand. I know that we both need to get home. I’m sure we both need to work tomorrow. At the base of the trail, I pause and pull Marissa gently toward me. She steps into the circle of my arms, and tips her head up toward me. I lean down to kiss her, and she kisses me back. Tender and sweet, but full of desire and promise. Everything about it is perfect. When we break apart, she is grinning at me, and her eyes are shining.
“This is definitely the best date of my life,” she says.
“Me, too,” I say. Now I just have to figure out how to top it.