It was not a long weekend- veteran's day falling on a Tuesday this year- but it felt it. Friday night I headed off-island with the smallest of my overnight bags, dressed in clothes of comparative sophistication and wearing mascara. And maybe even the subtlest of eyeshadow. I watched the narrow-bodied young man who receives freight for the store get mauled and cheek-kissed by the arriving store manager, a French woman who takes full advantage of her country's customary greeting. I had the pleasure of watching the slightest slip in the stoicism of his blue eyes. While I was jealous of her for the sake of contact, I am just as happy to not inspire that look of weary acceptance with a hint of misery.
At this point in the evening, I considered my sartorial and grooming labor worth the effort. See narrow boy. See narrow boy see me go uptown on a Friday night. What think you of that, narrow boy? Do you think of that? I doubt it. But given the election, hope is not dead in America.
Of course I was also dressed up because I was going out on what was likely to become a date. Pity the man whose date is pining for the freight boy. He took me to a nice restaurant (candles, prosecco), and a walk along the beach in the unseasonably mild November fog. He took my arm. He has called for a second date, and given his intelligence and humor, and generally winning ways, I will accept and tamp down my ambivalence toward dating and men. I obviously feel more comfortable with absolutely unspoken and unrequited longing. You may call me Nikita Tuzenbach (that was for you Ms. Beauregard).
I went home to one of the one-true-loves of my life, who had traveled up to her parents' place, which is a handy posting house for someone on their way to the boat company. We talked and laughed well into the small hours, then woke a little while later to catch the early morning mailboat back to my island. Upon arrival cleaning commenced, food was made, naps were taken. The latter interlude was broken by the shrill peal of the rotary phone, which I lunged over my friend to grab. It was an invitation to dinner from a couple of young men, which I gladly accepted. Though I had cleaned out and restocked the fridge, my desire to cook was still at a minimum. And the young men in question are attractive personalities.
That evening was also dark and close with fog, but the house we were visiting was cozy and bright with the laughter of seven twenty-somethings. The hospitality was not to be beat: lobster, pasta, Screech... I'd brought along dessert, a cranberry cottage pudding with butter sauce. We played cards, made crass jokes, told stories of bloodshed, pain, poor hospital service, and crazed homeowners. Glances were warm and the mood was expansive.
And Gentle Reader (the one who wasn't there)- when one of the young men indicated I should take a seat on his lap? I did. And asked for a pony and a dutch oven. He has an expressive open gaze that twinkles with or without drink. A soul as wise as he is appealing, he took no liberties, and the light snuggling was nice, though eventually I felt propriety rear its ugly head, and I moved to the floor.
The evening came to a close, my friend and I gave a ride to one of the other single women on the island, recently returned for the winter. She first asked "were we expected to spend the night?" and then attempted to draw out information about recent drama on the island. She got a terse response about looking for zebras.
Sunday dawned with the weight of work on my shoulders, and five hours after I had finished a breakfast of coffee and popovers, I had also finally finished the grade reports for my seven students. Ms. Webster kindly left me to my toil, appearing once in a while to rub my shoulders, or inquire why I had squealed with dismay. Once reports were handed in, I made some hearty hot sandwiches, and having satiated our stomachs, we set off on a walk.
This fall I have often trod the road to the park, stopping just short of it at Moore's Harbor to lay on the grass (ticks be damned), or the shore (sea fleas be smote). Bearing sensory witness to the island's journey from evening to night even as the year moves from autumn to winter swells my heart like nothing else- and the sheer gravity of beauty makes it difficult to contemplate ever leaving: if I can't or won't, my sincere thanks to friends who make the trip and refresh my soul- giving me a break from solitude, while also reminding me of its pleasures. Like a beloved movie shared with a new viewer, my routine benefits from fresh eyes.
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