Chapter 4 #3
Paul took off down the road with surprising speed, as if to make his point that his car was flashy and cool. Once we’d driven a few blocks and were emerging from the downtown area onto the highway, he glanced at me.
“So…”
“Why Newfoundland?” I guessed.
“You never actually answered. Unless you want me to believe there is no good improv in New York City.”
“I hate hot weather,” I said. “And honestly, I was thinking of maybe leaving the United States for good, so I did this as a…a dare to myself. My sister moved to Atlanta, and I’d been watching her daughter four days a week, so suddenly I was free to go anywhere.”
“That was nice of you. To watch your niece.”
“I didn’t mind. Hannah’s a great kid. But it was a shock when they left because I guess my life revolved around them.
I got used to having no kids because Hannah was like my kid, and then suddenly they just…
” I hesitated, wondering if I was admitting too much.
“Though I don’t know if they’ll stay in Atlanta.
She’s trying to work things out with her ex, and he’s not reliable.
I may have to dash back home and take care of her unexpectedly when it all falls apart. ”
“So why did you leave the States? Why not just move to a different city?”
“I’m running from the law.” I grinned.
“Murder I assume?”
“Murder, armed robbery, credit card fraud...”
“So a typical weekend in Brooklyn.”
“Well, we do get brunch first.”
He continued to look at me, and I knew he was waiting for a real answer.
“I guess…I mean…it just seemed like I needed a change. Not that everything isn’t perfect at home. You Canadians can tell that by watching our news.”
“Of course.” He nodded. “Honestly, I thought about moving to the States from time to time. I used to love Westerns as a kid. That’s what I’m hoping to do later this summer, maybe. Go there for a trip. Arizona, Wyoming…”
“You’re going to go to Arizona in August?”
“I know it’ll be hot.”
“And full of rich retirees and golf courses.”
“Well, don’t ruin the surprise.”
“Some of it is pretty,” I said. “But in August?”
“I’m tougher than I look.”
I swallowed a joke about how he looked, because I couldn’t think of one that didn’t reveal anything. We stopped for donuts and then drove down the coast to Witless Bay, which was a spectacular stretch of the coastline with an ecological reserve that was mostly accessible by boat.
“The best views can be seen by boat,” Paul said. “So I hope you’re ready for a boat trip.”
“I get kind of queasy on boats.”
“Oh, no, really? You should have said something.”
“I’m a terrible traveler. Carsickness, too. But I’ll give it a try. I should be alright if it’s not too choppy.”
Half an hour later, Paul and I were on a two-hour boat trip around the bay on a small tourist boat with about twenty other puffin enthusiasts.
He insisted on buying the tickets, and I tried hard to studiously ignore that I was effectively on a date with an attractive man who was recently divorced, according to Lisette’s intel.
“So you’re not married or anything, I take it?” I finally asked as we were leaning over the railing together.
“No,” Paul said to the horizon. “Divorced. Six months ago. I’m surprised Lisette didn’t tell you.”
“Why does that surprise you?”
“Because Lisette likes to celebrate the demise of my marriage. They weren’t close. My wife left me for a TV producer from who came through town.”
“Oh, no.”
Paul shrugged. “He was in town for two months doing a show for the CBC, and she was working on it as a freelance editor and uh…fell for him. Picked up and moved to Vancouver. So…”
“So you can’t watch the CBC with quite as much enthusiasm.”
He laughed a little. “And how about you? No husband either?”
“No husband, no boyfriend.”
“That’s who you murdered, presumably, before fleeing the States.”
“My last boyfriend? I wish.” I thought of Farid, and then I thought of Colin, who was technically my last boyfriend. Farid had made me miserable, and Colin had made me so ashamed that I didn’t even talk about him. Not to Laura. Not to anyone.
“Murder would have been a much more satisfying end to things,” I went on.
“No, Farid left me for the person he’d been cheating on me with.
And then married her, after years of telling me he didn’t believe in marriage, philosophically.
He was against the whole concept of marriage until he met someone he actually wanted to marry. ”
“We’ll have to get him together with my ex. Sounds like they would click.” Paul smiled.
“What happened with her? If you don’t mind talking about it.”
He shrugged. “When we met, we were both actors in Toronto. And then I moved here to take care of my father, and eventually got a teaching job, and she came out here to help start a small advertising firm her friend was running, so it seemed to make sense to get back together. And then I guess our lives got really boring.”
“What? In cool, happening St. John’s?”
“The guy she left me for travels around Canada doing documentary-style stuff. He’s in Vancouver one week and Banff the next. And they apparently vacation in Spain and St. Barts.”
“He sounds insufferable.”
He laughed. “I was thinking that would sound normal to someone from New York. Jet setting around.”
“I do jet-set around the F train a bit.” I considered. “But New York is actually really hard in that way,” I said.
“What way?”
I blushed. I realized I was thinking of dating, and that probably wasn’t where Paul’s mind was. Would he think I was hitting on him? I tried to sound casual. “Well, for dating. It’s hard to find people.”
“I would think it would be the opposite,” Paul offered.
“There are dating apps, and bars, and so on, but by the time you’re in your thirties…
It’s like with the dating apps,” I said.
“Everyone you go on a date with knows that there are hundreds of other options aside from you, so if things aren’t working out, everyone can cut their losses without putting any effort in.
And eventually it starts to be like no one is really trying to get to know anyone.
I went on a date with a guy, and ten minutes into it, he said, ‘Well, I’m not feeling this, are you?
’ And I said, ‘Uh…’ And he said, ‘Let’s cut this short, then. ’ And he got up and left.”
“What? He left?”
I shrugged. “No point in wasting time.”
Paul looked outraged on my behalf. “I can’t believe that. And with you?” Now I definitely felt myself flushing, so I looked out over the water.
I shrugged. “And if I am what somebody wants, he’s bitter and damaged by his horrible divorce.”
Paul looked down.
“I didn’t mean you!” I cried. “Not at all, honestly. You don’t seem bitter at all.”
He shrugged. “I have moments.”
“Well, you are a million times more pleasant than the guys I’ve been meeting in New York.”
“Pleasant,” he said. “Excellent.”
I opened my mouth. “No, I…” I trailed off. I wasn’t sure this was a date. It wasn’t a date, was it? He hadn’t asked me on one.
He looked down, a ghost of an ironic smile crossing his lips. “Speaking of pleasant,” Paul said, “time to scour the puffin population for viral video material.”
I turned to look over the side of the boat where the tourists were gathering.
Ahead of us was a hillside with literally hundreds of puffins.
They were individually very cute, but the effect of so many was a bit stunning, especially after the nature deficit of New York City.
I had expected I might see ten or twenty birds, but this was a giant colony, fluttering wings and calling out and jumping into the water.
“They are so ridiculously cute,” I said.
“Are they giving the Brooklyn rats a run for their money?”
“Not in sheer numbers. But they may have the edge because they aren’t trying to run across my sandals.”
“Whale!” came a cry from the other side of the boat. And the crowd of tourists rushed over just in time to see a large whale breaching from the water and then returning with a splash.
The boat ride turned into a whale watch, as the captain turned the boat to get us closer to a small pod of humpback whales. It was dazzling to watch the giant, beautiful creatures. It also took all of five minutes for me to feel ill as we crossed into the choppier water further out in the bay.
“I may need to sit down,” I said, and found a space on a bench inside the boat.
Paul came and sat next to me.
“No, no, no,” I told him. “There are whales. Go watch them. They’re frolicking.”
“I’ve seen whales,” he said. “I haven’t seen nearly as many seasick tourists.”
I laughed and then felt worse.
He looked me over. “Do you know all the tricks for seasickness? Look at the horizon. Don’t look inside the boat. Deep breaths. Don’t go into small, enclosed spaces. Do you want me to find a wristband?”
“A wristband?”
“You put pressure on your pulse point on your wrist.” He put his hand around my wrist. “Some people think it relieves seasickness, but it may just be the placebo effect.” He looked at his hand on my wrist and held it firmly.
I looked up at him, thinking that he had very lovely brown eyes, and that I wished I didn’t want to die quite so much because I could enjoy this more.
He met my eyes, and his expression went very still.
There was a moment when I was sure he wanted to kiss me, and then he gave a quick, internal smile and an almost imperceptible shake of his head, like he was dismissing me or his feelings.
It killed me that I didn’t know which one it was, that I couldn’t tell whether he was thinking, ‘Abby will never like me,’ or ‘I will never like Abby.’ It made me want to kiss him, just to settle the issue one way or the other, but he was already back to his polite cheer.