“Do you know where you’re staying?” Jack asked.
We stood in the aisle, waiting for the train to empty. Amy and Constance were halfway down the car already, but a man two people in front of Jack had trouble getting a bag off the baggage rack. My neck already glowed just standing next to Jack.
“We have reservations in a hostel,” I said. “It’s called Cocomama. I liked the name.”
“Do you make all the travel arrangements?”
“Not all. I just like things orderly.”
“Said the girl with the Smythson appointment book.”
I shrugged. He wasn’t wrong.
“We might go to a party that Amy found out about from this guy Victor. It’s supposed to be right in central Amsterdam someplace, overlooking a canal.”
“My friend Raef, he’s Australian, but he knows people here. He knows people everywhere. I count myself as pretty well traveled, but Raef, he’s like Marco Polo or something. You’ll like him. He’s a sheepherder most of the year in the outback, and he saves up all his money, then travels. If you tell me where the party is, maybe we’ll show up. I’d like to see you again.”
“He sounds colorful. I don’t know where the party is off the top of my head, the address, but Amy has it written down. I can ask her when we get off the train.”
We didn’t say anything for a moment. Finally, the man in front of Jack managed to swing the bag down off the baggage rack. People behind us clapped. Amy and Constance had already disappeared onto the train platform.
“Look,” Jack said, his voice deep and pleasant and soft enough so only I could hear it. “Here’s what I think we should do. If we get off the train and it has a lot of fog coming out from underneath, you know, like an old movie, then we should have our first kiss right there. We’ve both been wanting to kiss, so we shouldn’t miss it.”
I had to smile. I kept my eyes away from him and slowly crept forward as people began to move. My neck was beyond red.
“We should, should we?” I asked. “And you think I want to kiss you? Is that your best try?”
“Come on. It will be a story to tell our grandchildren. And if it doesn’t work, if we don’t meet at the party tonight, then what did we lose? Just a kiss.”
“How big a kiss does it have to be?”
“Oh, we have to make it memorable.”
“You’re not without charm, as hard as that is for me to admit.”
“I didn’t mean to kid you about Hemingway. Earlier, I mean,” he said, his voice dropping and becoming sincerer. “I think it’s important to read Hemingway in Europe. I do. I like that you read him, and I like that you find his sadness interesting. I was just trying to connect with you.”
“What if the kiss is a letdown? Not every first kiss is great.”
“Ours will be. I think you know it will be, too. So you’re agreeing to kiss me?”
“For our grandchildren’s sake.”
“I hope there’s steam, and if we’re lucky, it’s raining.”
“I just ate peanut butter, so I’m warning you.”
“Duly noted.”
It’s amazing how long walking half a train car can take. I didn’t dare turn around to look at him. My backpack dug into my shoulders. I bent down a little and saw Amy and Constance waiting, both of them looking back to the car for me. I waved. They waved back. Jack walked behind me, and I felt choked up and strange. I wasn’t that kind of a girl, whatever that meant. Not impulsive. Not a girl to kiss a guy she had just met on a train to Amsterdam.
But it happened. When I stepped off the train, I turned to him, and he swung down lightly, big, muscular, and he took me in his arms. I wasn’t prepared for his solidness, for the strength of his entire body as he pulled me close. It was ridiculous at first, both of us like turtles with our stupid backpacks bobbing behind us, but then it became something else. I had a vague sense of Amy and Constance watching, both of them slack jawed with amusement and wonder, and then his lips went deeper into mine, and I closed my eyes.
It should have been a joke. It should have lasted only a moment. But it was a great kiss, probably the best of my life, and I don’t know why it was, or what he did, but when we broke apart, I didn’t want to let him go.
When we finished, I turned to see the girls. They both had cell phones out to click pictures, and when they dropped them, I laughed at the amazement on their faces.
“What the hell?” Amy asked.
“When did this happen?” Constance asked.
Jack simply smiled. Amy recovered sufficiently to give him the address of the party. We exchanged phone numbers.
“Maybe we’ll see you tonight,” Constance said, polite as always, smoothing things.
“Isn’t it pretty to think so?” he said, quoting the last line of The Sun Also Rises and letting his eyes rest on mine for an instant before he left.
8
Kitten, make sure you fill out ANY forms Bank of America sends you. Pronto!
On top of it, Daddy. Tell Mommy to pour you a big scotch and relax.
Don’t require a scotch. Require my daughter to do what she has promised to do.
It will get done. I always get things done.
When?
When the moon is in the 7th house. And Jupiter aligns with Mars.
Stop fooling with me, Heather. I don’t appreciate it.
Sorry, Dad. I will take care of it as soon as I can.
Not really good enough, is it?
Dad, I promise I will be on top of this. It’s a little difficult from over here, but I have my eye on the ball. Swear.
Take pity on your father. Okay. Love you. No more lectures right now. Now I do need a drink.
There’s always a moment when you enter a party when you think: In or out? Part of you wants to get the hell away from the noise and racket, the lights flashing, the people—strangers—yelling into each other’s ears to be heard. You know immediately that the bathrooms will be crowded or impossible to use, that the dance floors will be sticky with beer and booze, that some wannabe playboy will come dancing toward you with his groin sticking out, his teeth tucked over his lower lip, his eyes giving you the you’re-ten-minutes-away-from-having-my-baby look. For an instant, you see the party for what it is—a mating ritual, a celebration of coitus—and you start to turn away because you are smarter than this, cooler than this, quieter than this.