Page 87 of The Rom-Commers

In slow-mo, Charlie reached up to slide it out of the breast pocket of his Oxford and dial 911—and I listened, frozen still, while he calmly explained all of our details to the dispatcher.

After Charlie hung up, he said, “Ten minutes or so,” in a non-whisper that I suspected was meant to signal somehow that we were okay enough for full volume. Then, when I didn’t say anything, he added, “Lucky for that guardrail.”

“Charlie,” I said, also making the choice to not whisper, but not 100 percent sure that the vibration of my vocal cords wouldn’t be enough to shift our position. “That thing could give way at any second.”

“All we have to do,” Charlie said, keeping his voice as smooth as chocolate milk, “is wait for help.”

But that’s when, as if to undermine all his efforts, Charlie coughed.

And then he coughed again.

I wasn’t sure if the coughing was rocking the car or if it was just my imagination, but I said, “Don’t cough, Charlie.”

In response, Charlie coughed again.

“Hey,” I said. “Are you trying to get us killed?”

“It’s allergies,” Charlie said.

“What are you allergic to? Plunging to our deaths?”

“We’re not going to plunge,” Charlie said, like I was being far more ridiculous than I actually was. “And we’re not going to die.”

But in the silence as we waited for him to cough again, I wondered.

Finally, I said, “I have this worried feeling like I might freak out.”

“Freak out in astillway?” Charlie asked. “Or in a way that will rock the car?”

“Unclear,” I said. “But the waiting is definitely getting to me.”

Charlie studied me for a second. And then he said, out of nowhere, “My first kiss was in the seventh grade. Did you know that?”

I frowned, likeHow would I know that?And then, additionally,How is this relevant?

“She was a friend of my sister’s, at her birthday sleepover,” he said, and then in a tone like just speaking the name conjured up a whole world: “Mary Marino. She had, and I say this with so much reverence,legendaryboobs.”

“Why are we talking about this?”

“She left the party,” Charlie went on, “and asked me to take a walk, which I did. And we made our way to an empty park and sat side by side on a bench and talked, but I have no idea what we talked about. All I remember is that she kept leaning close to me, and looking at me, and kind of puckering up her lips. I was not getting the message. I kept wondering if her braces were bothering her. Finally she turned to face me like I was the biggest pain in the ass in the world and said, ‘Are you going to kiss me or not?’”

“I love this kid,” I said. “She’s a role model for us all.”

“So I kissed her,” Charlie said. “And then she said, ‘That’s it?’ And I could tell she was disappointed, but I had no idea how to do anything differently. And while I was thinking, she told me she was going back—and to wait ten minutes so nobody would catch on.”

“Did you ever figure out what you did wrong?”

“I think I just kissed her like you’d kiss your grandma.”

“Oof.”

“What was your first kiss?” Charlie asked.

“Second grade,” I said. “The boy across the street. I made him climb up onto the top shelf of my bedroom closet with me, pecked him on the cheek, and then swore him to secrecy forever.”

“And? Did he keep the secret?”

“Does it count if he forgot about it entirely?”

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