Page 26 of The Making of Mila and Blake
Ashamed of myself for getting so carried away, I make my way back to the drinks table and fix myself another vodka. Stronger than the one Blake made me. I find a lone, empty chair at the back of the yard and resign myself to maintaining a low profile for the rest of the evening. My mind is spinning.
I amsonot over Blake.
10
“Make sure he keeps applying sunscreen!” Sheri calls from the porch as I help Popeye into her van. Her brows pinch together in worry.
“Goddamn, Sheri, quit it already!” Popeye yells back. “I’m not going to catch a sunburn.”
I usher Popeye more quickly into the passenger seat and shut the door, putting a stop to his and Sheri’s endless bickering. Sheri’s excessive concern is always in good faith, but more than anything in the world, Popeye despises feeling like he is a liability that needs taken care of. At least Dad and I keep our worry to ourselves.
“We’ll be back in an hour or two,” I promise Sheri before joining Popeye inside the van. I blast the AC, and then set off.
It’s Monday afternoon and I have decided that going forward, I want to spend more quality time with Popeye on my own. I want to take him out to the movies and laugh with mortification as he gets popcorn kernels stuck in his teeth. I want to take him out for a date night to a swanky restaurant in the city and hear him complain that the service is too upscale and high-class for him. I want to take his hand and dance around the living room with him again while he smiles wistfully at his and Grandma’s old favorite songs. I want to make a thousand memories with Popeye that I will cherish forever.
Today, I have prepared an afternoon picnic for the two of us, mostly to make up for disappointing Popeye when I couldn’t drag myself out of bed yesterday morning for church. I wassotired and the lingering taste of vodka made me queasy. And to make yesterday even worse, Savannah barely acknowledged any of my text messages. She has only just started responding to me again, but without her usual overuse of emojis.
“I’m taking you to Bowie Park,” I tell Popeye.
“Look at you,” he says smugly, “sounding like a local again.”
I drive very slowly downtown– seriously, Popeye fearfully grips the dashboard every time I so much as hit sixty– and make the turn onto Bowie Lake Road. Tall, towering trees shade the bright sunshine as we head deeper into the park, passing the Fairview Fire Department. I still can’t believe Blake hosted abonfirehere once, and the only repercussion was getting the party shut down by his mom. We could have all gotten into so much trouble that night.
There are so many different trails branching off from the road, but I follow it straight to the end until the lake comes into view before us. For a Monday, there are more cars here than I expected, but not a single person is in sight. Everyone must be off exploring the trails, adventuring deep into the park, each of us in our own little worlds.
Popeye accepts my helping hand to assist him out of the van, which only reminds me once again that I amclearlythe apple of his eye, and then I fetch the wicker picnic basket from the backseat. I’ve spent the morning preparing sandwiches, making my own sweet tea, and loading the basket with savory treats for us to enjoy.
We set up our picnic on a bench by the edge of the lake and sit across from one another. Just Popeye and me, the soft whistle of the breeze in the leaves and the chirping of birds. The water is incredibly calm, there are even geese resting. It’s so peaceful.
“Promise me you aren’t just doing this because you think I’m dying,” Popeye says bluntly, instantly disrupting the good vibes.
My hand fumbling in the picnic basket, I give him a stern look. “No, Popeye. I’m doing this because I want to spend time with you. And you’renotdying.” I pull out the wrapped sandwiches and slide one across the wooden table. Grilled chicken withlotsof salad. Simple, but his favorite.
Popeye eyes the sandwich as he unwraps it. “Well, I am. Aren’t we all?”
My stare of disapproval intensifies. “Can you not be so depressing? We’re trying to enjoy a nice lunch here.”
“Okay.” Popeye laughs, all hearty and full and sincere, and I love the sound of his laughter more than anything else in the world. He takes a bite of his sandwich and then clicks his tongue. “Too much lettuce. Not enough tomato. Andwhereare the pickles?”
“You make the sandwiches next time then,” I deadpan. His playful smile mirrors mine and we eat our sandwiches with no more complaints. “Can I ask for your advice on something?”
“I’m not sure how much help I can be, but I can try, my sweet Mila,” says Popeye.
I retrieve the jug of sweet tea and two disposable cups from the picnic basket, keeping my hands busy. “How are you ever supposed to figure things out when you have no idea where to start?”
Popeye takes the cup of sweet tea from me. “I need more details than that. What’s on your mind?”
“A lot,” I admit, crossing my legs on the bench and angling toward the lake so I don’t have to look at him. So far, my time in Fairview has been way more confusing than I bargained for, and trying to piece together all of my broken thoughts is something I can’t do alone. “How did you know Grandma wasthe one?”
“I need some of those nuts before I answer this,” Popeye says with an instructive nod to the picnic basket. I grab the pack of caramelized almonds and pass the whole thing over to him. “How did I know Grandma was the one. . .?” he repeats to himself under his breath while tossing a handful of almonds into his mouth.
“Did you know all along or did it take time?” I ask, listening intently. “Did you guys ever break up but then get back together even when you believed you never would?”
“Oh, I see what this is about,” Popeye says with a pitying smile. “You’re wondering if that boy of yours is the one.”
I hunch forward. I didn’t think I’d be this transparent to Popeye.
“Listen here, sweetheart,” Popeye says, clearing his throat. He leans closer and rests his arms on the table, trying to catch my eye, but I’m too embarrassed to look up. “When I first met your grandmother, I couldn’t stand to be around her. She and her friends were so classy and uptight. City girls with no time for us out-of-town boys. But do you know what happened?”
