Chapter 22
With only two and a half perfunctory days left of the school year, I’m realizing that I’m going to need to hurry up and figure out this People magazine thing soon.
This summer is going to be a tough one; I already know it.
I don’t have enough planned. I spent the past two summers staying busy.
So, so busy. I wrote and I toured. I stayed out of the house as much as humanly possible and blew tons of money on motels in far-off spots, like Idaho and Milwaukee, just so that I could do small-time appearances at local, indie bookstores there.
Totally on my dime, not part of anything Cabaret Books was planning for me.
Also, never by plane. Just me and the open road, the cushion of distance and the comfort of my still relatively new car keeping my mind safely preoccupied.
Anything to keep from being home.
It’s the lack of structure that kills me.
I need to have plans, stuff going on. Having nothing to do is the number one surefire way to end up sliding into a dark place.
I worked too hard to claw my way back to the land of the living after Mom passed away to flush it all down the toilet now at the hands of my own procrastination.
The thing is, I was supposed to have a bunch of events booked.
The original launch date for Holiday Island was June 27, next Tuesday, and I had it all set: the launch party at Kew Harmony and her mom were slated for a Domino’s delivery that Harmony insisted on paying for herself.
Which was fine by me, because she didn’t know it, but I just dropped all of my casino winnings and then some on a night we would both—hopefully—remember forever.
Harmony and I spent our fifth evening at a comedy club in Eagle Beach called Aruba Ray’s.
There’s something magical about laughing hysterically with someone who you just know is on the precipice of becoming a huge part of your future.
Laughter itself is a powerful drug. I wonder if it releases endorphins.
A better science teacher would know the answer.
Alas, I can only say that it offers a feeling of fulfillment, of satisfaction, of wanting more.
All things that Harmony was doing to me on a regular basis by this point in the trip.
On our sixth day—New Year’s Eve—Harmony and her mom spent the morning at the private island.
They’d enjoyed some spa bonding time the day before and I guess they were beginning to feel like the trip was coming to an end, so they wanted to soak up as much of that special little island as they possibly could.
I hopped a boat over there to meet them in the afternoon and found that the family-friendly side of the beach was being set up for a wedding.
“Can you imagine?” Harmony asked me when I found her. “A wedding in paradise. What a lucky couple they must be.”
“I wonder how it works,” I replied.
“Oh, it’s simple,” she explained. “I overheard the setup guys talking about it. They shut the island down at six instead of seven, so an hour early. But the guests begin arriving somewhere around 5:30, and the ceremony is at like 6:15 over there.” She pointed to a temporary archway down the beach adorned with white flowers and lights.
“They run shuttle service for the wedding guests via the water taxi and the reception is right here on the beach.”
“Sounds fun,” I said.
It was hard not to focus on the island’s transformation as the afternoon progressed.
The group of movers was turning the shoreline into a stunning venue, being minimally disruptive to the guests who were lying out or swimming, all under the watchful eye of a ringleader, who must have been the ma?tre d’.
We almost felt intrusive, although Harmony was still excited about the spa hut she’d been to the day before, and she shared that the island was revealing more and more of its secrets to her.
“I’m telling you, it was pure magic. You just go down that little walkway, and it’s like a whole other section over there that nobody knows about,” she gushed. “It was gorgeous. So private. I wish I could show it to you.”
My head spun in anticipation of what her reaction would be to our upcoming dinner at The Old Man and the Sea. That was one of the many things I’d grown to appreciate about her—the fact that she paid attention to details, offered praise generously, and valued a thoughtfully curated aesthetic.
The three of us left the island around 4:00 p.m., in time to get ready for an early dinner at 5:00.
We dined at Fresco, the on-site restaurant overlooking the pool and the beach.
It was nice, simple, fresh seafood and produce spun into island classics: Baja fish tacos, a poke bowl, and sweet and sour shrimp.
I got the sense that Harmony’s mom was tiring, and we didn’t want to push her.
Best to just let her enjoy the last days of the trip of a lifetime.
After the meal ended, Harmony excused herself to use the restroom in the lobby, and I saw this as my opportunity to ask her mother for permission to take her out on our final night in Aruba. I explained my plan to her in abridged, hushed sentences.
“Are you kidding me?” her mom replied, grinning. “That place sounds stunning!”
“It will be. I just want to make sure that you’ll be okay. I don’t like the idea of you eating alone,” I said. “I tried to book a later time, but the 5:30 was all they had available.”
“Listen to me,” she told me, reaching out to pat my hand. “I think you’re great for my daughter. I haven’t seen her this happy in—honestly, I don’t know how long. And I’m a grown-up. I’m more than capable of ordering room service for a night.”
“I just—I want you to know that I’m serious about her,” I went on. “I’m planning to ask her to put a label on this.”
“Meaning?”
“I want Harmony to be my girlfriend.”
“Shh. Here she comes. But yes! Yes to everything. She’s going to be so excited.”
Just like that, it was done.
Harmony returned from the bathroom with a gleam in her eye. “Do we have anything planned tonight?” she asked.
“I do,” her mother said. “There’s a House Hunters marathon on that has my name on it,” she announced with a wink.
“Well, as much as I’d love to stay inside and do that”—Harmony laughed and shifted her attention to me—“would you be up for a little adventure?”
“Me?” I asked, looking around as if she might have been talking to someone else.
“Yeah, you.”
“Sure,” I replied. “I love a good adventure.”
“Okay. I need you to wear your nicest outfit and meet me in the lobby after dinner.” I must have twisted my face up in confusion because then she said, “Trust me. It’s going to be fun.”
As requested, I changed into the one pair of dress pants I’d brought and a collared, button-down shirt. I didn’t have a tie, but my shoes complemented the outfit and I felt presentable. I had no idea what she had in mind, but it didn’t matter. I would have followed her anywhere.