After the movie, Josh suggested we go to this Chinese restaurant nearby. It had started drizzling out, like light mist, and neither of us had an umbrella, but I didn’t care. I was thinking maybe the rain would make the wispy hairs around my face curly. I was hoping anyway. It was one of my best looks, but it only happened when the weather was just right.
“Is it okay if we walk?” Josh said. “It’s only a couple of blocks.”
“Sure,” I said. “I don’t mind a little rain.”
We walked across the parking lot to this little row of shops: Merrick Hardware, Long Island Records, a stationery store, and Lam’s Szechuan Garden in yellow lights at the end.
A waiter led us to a red vinyl booth by the window where we could see it was starting to rain harder. He threw two enormous menus down on the glass table and went to get us tea.
“You like Chinese food, right?” Josh said.
“I love it,” I said. “Especially, like, spareribs and moo shu chicken.”
When the waiter came back, Josh ordered for us, which was pretty cool. I didn’t think anyone had ever ordered for me, except maybe my dad and that didn’t count.
“One order of spareribs, one moo shu chicken,” Josh said to the waiter, and then he scanned the giant menu. “And one shrimp with lobster sauce. Is that okay?” he said to me.
“Great!” I said. The waiter took our menus and left.
“I think that was a pretty good movie,” he said. “But to be honest, I couldn’t really pay much attention to it.”
I burst out laughing. “Me, neither!” I said, and he started laughing, too. Then we looked each other in the eyes, but I couldn’t hold his gaze for too long. It just made my heart go crazy.
“Can you get into flattery?” Josh said.
“What? What do you mean?” I said. I had no idea what he was talking about, but I was pretty sure I started blushing.
“You have perfect eyebrows,” he said. “They are just beautiful—the shape of them.”
I was stunned. “Thanks,” I said. “Wow.”
Josh just smiled at me with his hands interlaced on the table. He was wearing this really soft worn-in rayon shirt—a button-down, kind of vintage. It looked really comfortable.
“And this might
actually
sound weird,” he said, “but I really like your style. I like your taste in clothes.” I wondered if I’d ever tell him most of them were stolen.
“Thanks,” I said. “I like yours, too. I really like fifties stuff.”
“Thanks,” he said, looking so incredibly cute. This was all too much.
“This is a trip,” I said. “I can’t believe you just said all that stuff.” There were so many moments I couldn’t wait to tell Julie. Then I remembered I couldn’t tell her, so I tried to put Julie out of my mind.
Josh and I stared at each other for a moment, and I thought he might try to kiss me across the table. Even though I wanted him to, I suddenly got really nervous—it was hard to look into those intense sky-blue-marbly crystally eyes. He reached across the table and took my hand. It felt so warm and guylike, just a little bit rougher and stronger-feeling than a girl’s. I must have stiffened or looked down or something, ’cause Josh said, “Did I just make you uncomfortable?” But he kept holding my hand.
“What? No . . . I just . . . I don’t know, I’m sorry.” I laughed a little. I was kind of wanting to tell him this was my first date, but I didn’t want him to think I was a total dork or desperate or something, so I didn’t say anything. At that moment Josh released my hand anyway, ’cause the waiter came back with tea, the spareribs, and those crunchy yellow noodles and duck sauce.
“Don’t worry, this’ll be a good story,” Josh said, putting his napkin on his lap, and I thought,
What good manners
. “One day we’ll tell our grandkids that on our first date, I held their grandmother’s hand and she kinda freaked out.”
This cracked me up and I started to feel less self-conscious. Oh my God, our grandkids? I couldn’t believe it. Josh Heller liked me.
By the time we left the restaurant it was pouring so hard you could barely see, so Josh grabbed my hand and we ran through the parking lot to his mother’s brown Chevy and got totally soaked. Looking out the windshield, I felt like we were going through a car wash without the suds. Josh kept the wipers going at full speed and didn’t seem bothered or nervous about the rain at all. I could tell he was a good driver and that he knew exactly how to get from Long Island to Manhattan. I trusted him, and I felt so grown-up sitting there next to him on the brown vinyl seat. Josh said there was a sweatshirt in the back that I could use to wipe my face or hair or whatever. The sweatshirt was gray and said YALE in navy lettering.
“Do you know someone who goes to Yale?” I asked.
“No, but I’m planning to go there. I’m applying early admission next year,” he said.
“Wow,” I said. “You must be really smart.”
“I am,” he said, smiling. “I mean, let’s hope.” Then I was having thoughts like,
Oh man, I’m on a date with a guy who wants to go to
Yale
and he’s driving me home!
We listened to WPLJ and talked about our favorite songs and groups. Billy Joel’s “The Stranger” came on and I was pretty impressed that Josh knew all the lyrics, and he could even do the whole whistling part, on key. I couldn’t whistle, though I had tried to teach myself, like, a million times. Josh’s singing voice sounded nice. We talked about the junior class rock musical, written by students from the drama department who auditioned to get in. It was directed by Mrs. Zeig, and everybody wanted to be in it. Auditions had been in February, and Josh didn’t make it.
“Were you bummed out?” I asked.
“Yeah, I was. But Tim didn’t make it, either. Rick did, so now I don’t see him too much after school.”
“What did you have to do for your audition?” I asked.
“You had to sing a rock song. Acapella—do you know what that is?”
Of course I know what that is,
I immediately thought. Then I realized, wait, maybe I didn’t. But I didn’t want to look stupid, so I just said, “I think so. Isn’t that singing with no music playing?”
“Right,” Josh said. “So I sang ‘Beast of Burden’ by the Stones.” He looked straight ahead through the pouring rain.
“Cool choice,” I said.
“I guess not really,” Josh said, “since I didn’t make it. Oh well, that’s showbiz, right?”
“Right.” I smiled at him. I liked him so much for being able to talk about getting rejected without seeming embarrassed. He was so honest.
“Can I ask you a personal question?” I said.
“You can ask me anything you want,” he said. “I believe anyone has the right to ask anyone anything, and it’s the other person’s responsibility to say, ‘No, I don’t want to talk about that.’ If it’s something they don’t want to talk about. You know what I mean?”
“Totally,” I said.
“So what’s your question?” Josh asked.
“Did you used to date Leah Reemer?” I couldn’t help but think about Josh and Leah at Kahti Fearon’s Christmas party, and I wondered what had happened between them. I knew it was none of my business, but I asked anyway.
Josh smiled and kept looking straight ahead through the sloshing windshield wipers. “Yeah, we dated our freshman year. But now we’re just friends. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I feel kind of stupid for asking. But I saw you guys together a lot at Kahti’s party and I just thought . . .”
“No, it’s fine,” Josh said. “That was around the time Leah’s parents were getting a divorce. Her dad was moving out, so she was pretty upset.”
“Oh,” I said, feeling even stupider for having brought the whole thing up. Through the window I could just make out that we were on Broadway and 105th Street.
“Did you think I would ask you out if I was dating someone else?” Josh asked, shifting the car into park in front of my building and turning his body to look at me.
“Um . . . I don’t know. I didn’t really think you were dating her,” I stammered, just as Josh leaned toward me, undid my seat belt, and kissed me. At first my lips quivered a little but Josh kept kissing me like he didn’t care or notice.
Then he stopped for a second and whispered, “Besides, you’re much cuter. . . .”
We kissed and kissed and he held my face, which felt so amazing I thought I might die right there in Josh’s mother’s brown Chevy. I suddenly understood what the big deal was about. This was nothing like kissing David Wine and our rhythmic tongue circles. When Josh kissed me, I felt this fizzy sensation in my chest go down to my stomach and then my crotch. And his breath smelled delicious.
He must have really good digestion,
I thought.
“Thanks for coming out to Long Island,” Josh said.
“No biggie,” I said. “Thanks for driving me home.”
“Sure,” he said. I didn’t really know what was supposed to happen next. Did I just get out of the car? Say, “Let’s do this again”?
Nah, better not to seem too desperate,
I thought, so I didn’t say anything and just started fumbling with the door handle. Josh reached over my lap and opened it for me.
“I really liked hanging out with you,” Josh said.
“Me, too,” I said, and then we paused as the rain continued to beat down on the windshield. It was just pouring and pouring. What a night.
“Well, I better get upstairs,” I said.
Josh leaned over and gave me one more kiss on the lips. More fizzes shot through my chest.
“Good night,” he said, and I quickly got out of the car and ran through the rain to my lobby. As I waited for the elevator I could see my reflection in the tarnished gold elevator doors. My hair was still pretty soaked and my face was flushed. Did I look older and more experienced? I wondered. When you had a night like I just had, did it show?
“Hello, Yulie,” Freddy the elevator man said in his thick accent.
“Hi, Freddy,” I said, trying to fight my smile and wondering if he thought I looked different. But he didn’t say anything else; we just rode up in silence. When he opened the elevator door on my floor, twelve, he said, “Watch yoo step!”
“Thanks,” I said, searching for my keys. I was praying my parents would be asleep or at least in their room so I could walk through the living room without having to talk to them. Thank God, Ellie’s door was shut and my parents were in their room, but I could see from the hallway their light was still on.
“Hello, pussy cat!” my mother said in a loud whisper. “Did you have a nice time? Did you get caught in the rain?” Fortunately, it didn’t sound like she was getting out of bed.
“Um, no, not really,” I whispered back. “I mean yes, I had a good time. I’m really tired, Mom. I’m gonna go to bed.”
“Okay!” she said. She didn’t ask me anything else.
I wanted to call Julie, who I knew would still be up, but I felt conflicted. I didn’t care anymore about our stupid fight, and I knew Julie would really want to know about my first date with Josh Heller. Then again, she was so mean to me, saying, “Enjoy your new life!” I had never seen her so obnoxious, and she had been so cold to me since the day of our fight. I hugged my pillow, remembering how amazing it felt to kiss Josh Heller’s lips, sitting in a car in the rain. How could I not tell Julie about it?
“Fuck it,” I said out loud to myself, and dialed her number. My heart started beating in anticipation of her answering. I wasn’t sure what I’d say much past “Hi.” But her phone rang, like, eight times, and there was no answer. I hung up.
19
I Wasn’t Scared of Spider Plants Anymore
The next morning, although it was a Saturday and I could have slept late, I lay in bed wide awake at seven thirty, staring at the ceiling. I could not stop thinking about Josh and our date. When I closed my eyes, I could remember what his hands on my face felt like. I bunched up a chunk of my hair and smelled it, and I could have sworn it smelled like Josh’s soapy, great smell. I wondered so many things: Would Josh ask me out again? Would we kiss again? Or would we go further? I got nervous when I thought about fooling around or getting naked or whatever came after making out. I hoped he was patient, and yet I wanted him to be experienced, too—to know what to do so he could show me. I hoped he wouldn’t mind how inexperienced I was.
I was still dying to call Julie so I could tell her about Josh, but I was scared, too. And anyway, Julie always slept late, so I’d have to wait. I wondered if Julie had asked Jennifer Smalls to go to Sak’s with her after school. Would Jennifer Smalls be my replacement?
My mom was in the kitchen eating a piece of Branola toast from behind the newspaper. She folded her paper with a loud crunch and said, over her reading glasses, in a pretend loud whisper, “So, how was it?” She was smiling, so I started smiling.
“Good,” I said. “We had a great time!” I added.
“Terrific! How was the movie? Whatdja see?” Mom said.
“Diner.”
I poured myself a bowl of granola. “But I don’t really remember it.”
I thought that might shock her, like she’d think Josh was up my shirt during the whole movie or something, but she just said, “Oh. Well it must not have been a very good movie, then.”
I pulled the stool around to the counter and poured milk on my granola.
That’s it?
I thought. Was that all she was going to ask? I was dying for her to ask me something else about Josh, but at the same time I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell her anything. I just kind of wanted a reason to talk about him since I couldn’t get him out of my head. But she went back to her paper while I sat there eating and thinking,
C’mon Mom, ask me about Josh. Ask me where he wants to go to college or something. Anything.
Then my mind wandered to Josh saying, “Anyone has the right to ask anyone anything, and it’s the other person’s responsibility to say, ‘No, I don’t want to talk about that.’”
“Do you think I have good eyebrows?” I asked my mom.
“What?” she said, creasing part of the paper with her fingernail to mark her place.