Page 41 of The End of Summer

Is it a date?

Not sure. Don’t think so. I think it’s just hot dogs, Dad.

Then it’s fine with me, Gretchie. Thx for asking.

“Got the green light,” I told Keith.

He drove us down to the food truck spot at the intersection of Depot Road and Route 28, parked at Buca’s, and we walked up to the guy at the stand. “Get this girl an English Dog and a Red Rock Dog,” Keith said. “And I’ll take the same.”

I scanned the menu to figure out what he’d just ordered for me.

“They’re great – don’t question it, just trust me.”

The English Dog was slathered in beer cheddar cheese sauce and bacon, and the Red Rock Dog was a compilation of chili, onions, kraut and mustard. The truth was, I didn’t really love hot dogs. I would eat one once in a while, like at a picnic or a baseball game, but outside of that, I wouldn’tchoosethem as a destination for my taste buds.

So, having two of them, neither one prepared the way I actually preferred, was maybe not the best decision.

It was, however, a fabulous metaphor for how our relationship would go: Keith telling me what Ishouldlike, what Ishoulddo, how Ishouldbehave. I hadn’t had lots of boyfriends as a younger person. I had Ethan in high school – he was fine, but we had known each other since we werein diapers and it was just young, puppy love until we both went off to college. Then I dated Noah when I was 19, and I really liked him but he really liked sleeping around, so that didn’t end well. I followed him up with Trent – a guitarist in a local bar band in Amherst who saw fit to write a song about me called “Let Me In Your Tail Pipe” and then Alphonse, an exchange student who begged me to “Viens à Nice avec moi” when his student visa ended.

And yes, I know what you’re thinking –didn’t you ask you father if you could date these guys?The answer is,sort of.Ethan: yes, Noah: no, Trent: no, Alphonse: no. But since moving back home post-college, I had gone out on a single date with Ed, a guy from the fire department (yes, with permission from Dad; sadly, exactly zero sparks ignited – ironic, given his work with flames), which brought us up to this moment with Keith, the hot dog king.

Date or not, I figured that it was the respectable thing to do to ask my father’s permission, especially considering the fact that Keith worked for him.

The thing is, if you want to stay on Cape Cod for the long haul, you need to find someone who you’re compatible with who wants to stay here, too. And I was having no luck in the dating department. So, yes, despite the gastrointestinal distress our first unintentional date put me through, I decided to buck up and let him have my phone number when he asked for it. Then, in a celebration of optimism (however misguided), I said yes when he asked me out the following weekend to a Red Sox game in Boston.

Keith was a die-hard Red Sox fan. I guess this is why I’mreminded of him now.

Well, that and the jealousy thing.

We went to the Sox game and he thought I was hitting on the mascot. Yes, that fluffy, green guy. I asked Keith to take my picture with him, and he obliged, but spent the rest of the night asking how me and Wally the Green Monster planned to spend our honeymoon and wondering aloud if our babies would be green. You would think I made out with his Muppet-face the way Keith went on about it.

A few weeks later, we were at the mall in Hyannis when I bumped into Olivia, a friend of mine from high school. She was with her husband, Joe, who had their brand-new baby strapped to his chest in a Bjorn. We chatted outside of Target for all of three minutes, tops, and when we walked away Keith said, “He’s lucky I didn’t kick his ass.”

“Huh? Why?” I wondered.

“You didn’t notice the way he was looking at you?”

“He waswearinghis child! He barely said two words to us,” I replied.

“He was eye-banging you.”

“Please, Keith. That’s ridiculous.”

It became a trend. Anywhere we went, he’d contrive an indiscretion from his hyper-active imagination. It became so annoying that I was willing to break up with him over it, only I really didn’t know how, given the fact that he worked with my father and had the unofficial Chief Andrews Seal of Approval.

COVID saved the day the following spring, when all of a sudden we were forced into solitude. I told Keith I didn’t think we should compromise our respective families by intermingling, and eventually we fizzled out enoughthat I was able to break it off. Then, I got Zoloft (the fur baby, not the drug) as an antidote, under the pretense that I would remain single forever.

To be clear, I do not miss Keith, but sometimes I miss theideaof him, the security of knowing that someone is yours. This early stage flirting business has never been my strong suit. So I blame myself for developing whatever little crush this was on Brady – no, I blamehim,for invading first my home life and then my work life with his clothes off and muscular body on display. I am not a jealous person by nature, I remind myself, and Brady was absolutely never mine, despite any cuteness we might have shared in his apartment last night. If he’s out there making out with random strangers, that’s his prerogative. Nothing I need to concern myself with. Envy is an ugly trait, and any guy who’s going to bring that out in me is definitely not someone I need to waste my time on.

With this in mind, I inhale one more time, buck up, and head back to the party.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

BRADY

Iswear to God, if Miranda doesn’t get off my ass, I am literally going to scream.

I see Gretchen emerge from the office and head straight for an available pole. She does a basic spin, followed by some move where she kicks her legs in the air in a rainbow, and then begins to dance alongside the pole, feet planted firmly on the ground. She’s noticeably shorter now –ah, I realize,no shoes.I smile at her, but between the darkness and the noise, I don’t think she sees me.

---