Page 77 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
“So happy. My mom was right to plan this party for him.” Speaking of my mom, we both turn to look at her. She and my dad are loudly cajoling Trish and her husband to join them for a game of chicken in the pool.
“Nobody brought bathing suits,” Trish points out, sipping from a cup of white wine.
“Trish!” Mom’s voice is shrill, and then it changes to a loud stage whisper. “It’s called skinny-dipping.”
Dad laughs so hard at this that his laughs stop making any sound at all other than labored wheezing.
“Oh boy,” I mutter.
“If your parents get naked, I might have to leave. Just out of politeness, you know. Wouldn’t want them to be embarrassed, knowing I’d seen their—you know—the next time I see them. I mean, if there is a next time. Not to say that there would be, necessarily, but I—”
I give Daniel a long, straight-faced look, long enough to make him realize he’s been rambling. It’s cute. Kind of reminds me of me.
“Daniel.” I place a comforting hand on his knee. It’s warm, and I can feel the soft, curly hairs on his thigh. “I’m not going to make you sit here and watch my parents play naked chicken.”
I cross the yard and put an arm around my mom’s shoulders.
“Hey, Trish, what do you say we pour these guys into an Uber back to their hotel?”
“Abso—” Trish hiccups and waves her cup. “—lutely.”
Mom and Dad pay no attention, still giggling with their heads together like a couple of first-graders.
“And what about you? Did you drive here?”
Ron scoffs. “I’ve got her, Mallory. I know my wife and I know when I’m the designated driver for the evening.”
The four of them coordinate, drunkenly gathering their belongings—aside from my uncle Ron, who stands there, feet planted firmly, arms crossed, watching the scene as though curious to see if they can pull themselves together. Meanwhile, a similar scene unfolds with Gramps, Angela, and the two senior-citizen friends who remain.
Gramps isn’t drunk—he stuck to his usual “cocktail” of seltzer and lime—but he’s loopy from the party atmosphere and frombeing up past his bedtime. I watch for a moment as he tries to convince everyone to dance to one more song, and then I turn sadly back to Daniel.
“I better get him home.”
Daniel stands and spreads his hands as if to say,You gotta do what you gotta do.
But then Angela calls to me, clutching Gramps’s elbow, her tiny purse slung over her shoulder.
“Mallory, please, don’t worry yourself. I can get the birthday boy home.”
“It’s okay, I mean, I have to bring all of Wally’s stuff, too, and—”
“Mallory.” Angela crooks her bony, manicured finger at me. Frowning, I walk over to her. She whispers in my ear—her breath smells like lipstick. “That young man has been patiently waiting for some time alone with you. I’m only trying to help you out.”
“Huh?” I whisper back.
“Don’t make me spell it out for you, child. That Daniel is a gem. Don’t break his heart, you hear?” She straightens up and raises her voice again. “Now, just show me what all I need to bring for Wally. And help me wrap up that cake to put in Leonard’s freezer. There’s a good gal.”
Daniel dutifully boxes up the leftover cake as I walk Wally and all his accoutrements out to Angela’s car. Before he gets in the passenger seat, Gramps grabs me and smacks a kiss on my forehead.
“Thank you for a wonderful birthday, my girl.”
“Glad you had fun, Gramps. See you back at home.”
I stand in the driveway, waving as they drive away for longer than is strictly normal. Because, frankly, I don’t know what I’m supposed to do once I turn around and find myself alone with Daniel McKinnon. My instinct is to assume that he’s about to leave, too, now thatthe party’s over. But on some level, I know he’s not planning to leave quite yet.
I lower my arm and hug myself, gazing out at the dark cul-de-sac, palm trees stirring gently in neighbors’ yards. The air is so warm and fragrant, so different from the damp, chilly night air back home.
“I think they’re gone,” whispers a voice in my ear.
