Making His Baby(95)

Mostly because I don’t know how to feel.

He tells me about his grandfather as we go. The fish they’d catch, how he learned to fillet a trout for his seventh birthday, and how they would eat popcorn on the back porch at night while watching the sunset.

“That sounds beautiful.”

“It was.” Eric squeezes my hand and lets go, leaving me cold. “I spent whole summers just eating popcorn with the dude and plumping up the resident squirrels. End of the summer, they became target practice.”

“Oh my God!”

“Kidding.” Eric laughs. “Well, sort of. The neighbors really liked shooting BBs at the squirrels.”

“What about you?”

“I was too busy playing baseball.”

“I pictured you as more of a soccer player with that physique.”

“Oh, you’ve noticed?”

“A time or two, just a glance here and there. It’s very elusive.”

“Well, I’d hate to look like a braggart.” He squeezes my knee and my stomach flips again.

I’m not supposed to be here, but he’s treating me like I’m important. Everything is upside down, a modern version of Wonderland. Only I don’t want the little cake that will make me grow and finally escape like Alice. I want to stay here forever, in this weird little land, because it’s the only place I feel I fit.

The car comes to a stop and he kills the engine. Anticipation is killing me. Glendale is not what I would call the most thrilling place in Los Angeles, and definitely not where I expected him to take us.

“I’ll get your door.” Eric says. A few seconds later my door pops open and he leads me out of the car and in a few circles before finally removing my blindfold. “Surprise.”

Instead of looking at anything, I’m staring straight at him. We’re so close I can feel his breath on my neck.

“You brought me out to Glendale to see you?”

“I knew you’d love it.” He winks and spins me around once more. “Ta-da!”

“Roller skating?” I laugh. “Wow, this is surprising. I haven’t done this since I was… well, very small.”

“What better way to get handsy in public without drawing a lot of attention?” Eric winks again and takes my hand.

We walk inside like it’s a date. We rent skates like it’s a date. We order cokes and cheese fries like it’s a date. He tells me jokes, real ones that make me laugh and snort soda up my nose. It’s so surreal, all of it, that I half expect the Cheshire Cat to pop up out of nowhere.

“Come on.” Eric pats my knee and jumps up. “Let’s go for a spin.”

“I’m going to have to cling to you for dear life. I am many things, but graceful is not one of them.”

“That’s exactly what I was hoping for.”

Those first few steps on the rink, full of teenagers holding hands and little kids zooming in and out on roller blades, are terrifying. The total loss of control makes my stomach drop to my knees, but Eric remains by my side, an anchor in this fast-flying world.

“I also dabble in hockey.” He pulls me back upright as I drop into accidental splits. “Wow, you really are terrible.”

“I’m a fast learner.” I shoot back, laughing at my embarrassing skating performance. “Give me time. I’ll show you.”

“Anyone who doubts you is an idiot.” Eric says it almost tenderly.

It’s hard to focus on skating because I’m so busy staring at him. To see if this is all real. But a few more laps around the rink, more falling, more splits and I forget to watch him. Instead, it’s stupidly fun.

No pretenses are required while roller skating in a room full of families and kids. There are no cameras, no sequins, no twenty-dollar cocktails. It’s just laughs and smiles and holding hands under a disco ball. It’s the best night of my life.

A Whitney Houston song comes on and the DJ announces time for couples skate. My thighs and calves are killing me, but Eric pulls me out for the song. He spins me around in front of him and holds me like we’re dancing. I panic, but he holds tight.

“Trust me.” He whispers.

So I do.

In his impeccably strong arms, he holds me up so we can dance through the song, even throwing in an occasional spin. We’re so close our noses touch but our lips never meet. It’s a never-ending tease, all this touch with no payout. I love it.

We shut the place down, enjoying the last bits of amazingly terrible nineties music and mirrored ball lights until they kick us out. The whole drive back, we laugh about the other people there, and, of course, my terrible skating.

“I told you, though, I’d come back in the end. Did you see my spin at the end? That was Oscar-worthy.”