“Oh, I don’t know,” she said. “You were pretty suave with the square eggs. Those square eggs swept me off my feet.”
“I’ll bet those words have never been spoken before, in all the centuries of human language.”
“Here’s another one: ‘Why don’t you help me get this dog off my face so you can kiss me?’”
“Oh, I’m sure someone must’ve used that line before,” I said. “In fact, I believe it appeared in the first draft of the balcony scene from Romeo and Juliet.”
But she was already kissing me.
“Let’s get out of here,” I said when we pulled apart.
“Very suave,” she said. Hand in hand, we walked through the grass, past the crowds of dragons and princesses holding champagne flutes, of bunny rabbits dancing with demons, back to the real world of the car and the tall grass and the long, dusty road.
“So where to?” I asked Lexy, once we were settled in the car. “Maybe something more first-datey? Dinner, a movie, awkward conversation at a coffeehouse?”
She leaned back against the headrest, seeming to examine the ceiling. “Hmm,” she said. “Let’s see. Have you ever been to Disney World?”
“Disney World,” I repeated. I should mention here that we were somewhere in suburban Virginia. Still, I pretended to consider it. “No, I can’t say that I have.”
Of course I hadn’t been to Disney World. Disney World, the one in Florida, didn’t even exist when I was a kid—I think I was fifteen or sixteen when it opened—and in any case, my parents never had enough money to take us on extravagant vacations. And as an adult, it had never occurred to me. When Maura and I went away, it was to cities—London, Rome, Athens. We both had a taste for ruins. Maura liked vacations that could be meted out into days just full enough and meals just sophisticated enough to leave us tired and sated when we returned to our hotel at night. On our honeymoon, we went to a Caribbean resort, and the sandy, sunny emptiness of each day drove her nearly crazy. We’d settle on the beach with a book for me and a straw bag full of novels, magazines, and crossword puzzles for her, and within twenty minutes, she’d get up to take a walk in the sand, dip herself briefly in the ocean, and retreat into the air-conditioning to have a piña colada in the dark bar, ignoring the man in the flowered shirt who hovered near us on the beach for the very purpose of bringing us frothy drinks. I knew without asking that the idea of spinning around in a giant teacup and shaking hands with a grown-up dressed up as a mouse would not have appealed to her. So, no, I had never been to Disney World.
Lexy turned to me with real excitement in her face. “Really?” she asked. “Well, we have to go. Now, tonight.”
“Tonight it is,” I said, playing along. “But maybe we should get something to eat first.”
“Well, we can stop,” she said, “but we’ll have to leave after the appetizers.”
“Why?”
“Because if we finish dinner, then the date will be over.”
“Why is that?”
“Well, come on. We’ve already gone to a wedding. Once we’ve gone out to dinner, how much more could we reasonably expect to do? It’s only the first date, after all.”
“Okay,” I said. “And if the date were over, then we couldn’t go to Disney World because… ?”
She rolled her eyes. “Because that’d just be crazy. We don’t even know each other, and we’re taking off on a trip together? That’s nuts. But if we decide that Disney World is the perfect place to go on our first date—and I believe it is—then we’ll have a story to tell for the rest of our lives.”
“You’re serious, aren’t you?” I asked.
“Of course.” Her face was flushed with excitement. “Look, it’s spring break, right, so you don’t have any classes to teach. What were you planning to do with yourself for the next week?”
“Well, I have some papers to grade. And I was thinking about defrosting my refrigerator.”
“Oh, yeah, you need a trip to Disney World.”
I couldn’t believe I was considering this. “What about your dog?” I asked.
“I have a neighbor I can call.”
“What about clothes?”
She looked me up and down, appraising my khakis and button-down shirt.
“That’ll do until we get there,” she said. “Then we can get you a Mickey Mouse shirt. Or, no, not Mickey—Eeyore. That’s who you remind me of. We’ll find you an Eeyore shirt.”
“Eeyore?” I asked. I scanned my memory of children’s literature. “The sad donkey? That’s who I remind you of?”
“Yup. But in a good way.”
We stopped at an Italian place we saw on our way back to the highway. I guess I still thought she was going to call it off, but when we walked in, she excused herself to use the pay phone. When she came back to the table, she announced that everything was all set with her neighbor; he had agreed to take care of Lorelei while she was gone. I examined the menu. I was starving, and the entrées looked great. “Just appetizers?” I asked.
She nodded. “Doesn’t sound very satisfying, does it?” She looked discouraged. Suddenly, I wanted to make this work for her, this whole crazy plan.
“Well, no one said we can only get one apiece,” I said. I looked at the list of appetizers. “There’s enough here to make a meal from. We can share some bruschetta and that mozzarella salad. And look—it says here that you can get a half order of pasta. I think sharing is the important part. No one ever shares entrées, but everyone shares appetizers.”
She looked at me and smiled. “Now you’re getting into it,” she said. “But I think we’re also going to need some of those mussels. Is that too much?”
I shook my head. “It’s perfect,” I said. “Perfect.”
And an hour later, we were in the car, stuffed and happy, heading south.
“So do you take all your dates to Disney World?” I asked. We’d been in the car a half hour or so and had reached a lull in the conversation. I was feeling strangely calm, given my cautious character and the enormity of this adventure I had agreed to undertake.
“No,” she said. “But I do like to take people where they need to go.”
“And why exactly do I need to go to Disney World?”
“Oh, just a feeling I have. Something about your sad Eeyore eyes and the papers you have to grade. I don’t know what your ex-wife was like—and I’m not asking, that’s just not good date conversation—but I bet she never would have taken you to Disney World.”
“Well, you’re right there.” I was silent for a moment. “But what about you? Why don’t we go someplace you need to go?”
“Oh, I’ve been to most of those places already. Anyway, I never know where I need to be until I get there.”
“Wow,” I said. “That sounds very deep.”
“Well, then,” she said. “It’s time to play a word game.”
We played games, off and on, all through the night. By four A.M., we were somewhere in South Carolina. We’d been driving for seven hours. I was getting sleepy.
“I don’t think I can go much farther,” I said. “Do you feel awake enough to drive, or should we find someplace to stop?”
“I can drive for a while,” she said. “I’m a night person. Plus, I dozed a little earlier. Let’s just get me some coffee.”
We pulled off at the next exit. We found a gas station with an all-night convenience store, and while Lexy went in for coffee, I climbed over to the passenger side and put the seat back as far as it would go. As I eased myself into the softness of the seat, I thought for a moment, This is exactly where I want to be. I was asleep before she got back to the car.
I awoke to find a small girl peering at me through the window. I stirred a little and found that it was daylight, and we were in a rest stop parking lot. Lexy wasn’t in the seat beside me; I turned and saw that she had crawled into the backseat and curled into a ball.