Page 118 of Ten Years and Then…
“Exactly. But modern art. The more abstract, the better.”
Greg took her hand and led her around the little gallery. “Something like this?” He was pointing at a garish, almost neon-colored painting. “We could buy it for her. Christmas isn’t too far away.”
She threw her arms around his neck and kissed him. Unlike yesterday, he didn’t pull away from her. “Oh, my God. That’s the nicest thing. But …”
His shoulders drooped at the word “but.” All she could do was laugh. “No, really. It’s such a sweet thought. But there’s no way you could know. Mark Kostabi,”—she gestured at the little plaque showing the details of the painting—“Mom actually knows him. Despises him, is more like it. Something happened when she worked on an exhibition at the Museum of Modern Art back in 1992. I have my suspicions, but obviously I can’t ask her and I don’t really want to know the truth anyway.”
Greg perked back up with her words. “I wouldn’t want to remind her of—whatever went down with her and this guy,” he said. “Maybe tomorrow in Charleston—there’s the big market, right near the port. We can find something there for her.”
She kissed him again. “That would be fantastic, Greg. She’d love it.” The market was already on her list of must-dos in Charleston, so even if they didn’t come across anything that Karen Langley would actually like, which was pretty much guaranteed, it would still be a good time.
Maybe she could keep the promise she’d made last night after all.
Daniel, late afternoon
Right after lunch, the weather took a sudden turn towards cold and wet. There weren’t too many options indoors this afternoon; the shops were kind of overpriced, neither of them wanted to go to the casino and, as Leanne said, “If I spend any more time in the hot tub, I’ll turn into a prune.” But then she saw something they’d both missed earlier—the big theater on deck four was showing a movie, and the choice was made.
It turned out to be Grosse Pointe Blank, and two hours later, Leanne was still grinning when they walked out of the theater. “That was great! How did we miss it when it came out in the spring?”
He didn’t remind her of the truth, which was that he’d very much wanted to see it at the time, but the way the commercials emphasized the violent shootouts had turned her off. “I don’t really like movies with all that bloodshed,” she’d said.
Apparently the charm of John Cusack overcame her feelings about movie violence, which he supposed was good to know for the future. But there was something else about the movie that was occupying his thoughts just now. This was 1997. He was the same age as John Cusack’s hitman in the movie. And his ten-year high school reunion was—coming up? Or had he missed it already?
“Daniel, what’s up? You’re getting distracted again.”
At least it wasn’t about Nora this time; he had nothing to feel guilty for. “I’m sorry. It’s the movie—it got me wondering if I missed my reunion. This is ten years for me, just like John Cusack. I don’t think I ever gave them my address when I moved to Charlotte.”
They wandered out to the atrium. Deck four was the lowest level, and there was a bar located there. Leanne beckoned him to sit on a stool next to her. When the bartender looked their way, she told him, “Two champagne cocktails for us, please.” Then she turned to him. “It’s ten years for me, too. So this can be our own little high school reunion. What do you think?”
He leaned over and kissed her. “I think it’s perfect.”
They toasted each other with their first round of drinks, and swapped embarrassing high school stories for the next three rounds. And an hour later, as they didn’t quite stagger their way back to the cabin to rest up before dinner, Daniel wondered if, just maybe, he might be able to keep the promise he’d made last night after all.
Nora, nine o’clock in the evening
It had been a good day, and so far a good night. They’d had a surprisingly good lunch in the buffet up on deck nine, then Greg spent an hour swimming laps in the solarium pool while she watched. He’d invited her in, but the waves in the pool from the motion of the ship were a little too big for Nora’s comfort.
Later, they’d sat in the back of the big South Seas Lounge on deck six and enjoyed cocktails and watched a spirited session of bingo. Then, before they knew it, it was time for dinner in the Main Dining Room. And this time, when Nora wanted to order three different appetizers, Greg didn’t say a thing.
No, that wasn’t true. He’d suggested a fourth one. “Let’s try the shrimp cocktail, too.” he’d said. So they stuffed themselves, waddled back to their cabin, and now she was sitting on the little sofa, her arm around Greg and leaning into him while she idly flipped through channels on the remote control.
“I don’t care what’s on TV,” he said. “I’m just glad to be here with you.”
She was glad, too. She hadn’t thought of Daniel once today, after the near-miss this morning. Maybe that was the key—take it a day at a time. There was no need to make promises for the future, or even for the rest of the cruise. She just needed to focus on Greg and how she felt about him right now. And then in the morning, do it again, and tomorrow afternoon, and so on. Step by step. That’s how everything else in life worked, right?
She could manage that.
Hopefully.
Daniel, November 8, ten o’clock in the morning
The bad weather from yesterday afternoon was gone, a couple of hundred miles to the north. It was a bright, clear morning in Charleston when Daniel stepped off the ramp and onto the pier, hand in hand with Leanne.
It was chilly, though; he was glad he’d brought a jacket on the cruise. Leanne had given it to him for his birthday, the first gift she’d bought him. He wore it whenever the opportunity presented itself, even though he didn’t actually like it that much. It looked good; that wasn’t the problem.
What he didn’t like was that it was too heavy for a day like today, but not heavy enough for anything colder than today. He hadn’t said anything about that to Leanne—you didn’t criticize gifts. No matter what you really thought, you acted like they were great, because someone cared enough to buy them for you.
Just like the Members Only jacket he’d desperately wanted back in tenth grade, and Mom finally bought it for him and then it turned out to not fit quite right, and he didn’t look nearly as cool wearing it as he’d imagined he would. But he wore it anyway, so she knew how much he appreciated it.
