squeeze.
She nodded and turned toward the ocean, her eyes getting that far-off look again. She’d been doing that a lot lately. I let it go on for a while before the silence sort of got to me.
“Are you okay, Jamie?” I finally asked.
Instead of answering, she changed the subject.
“Have you ever been in love?” she asked me.
I ran my hand through my hair and gave her one of those looks. “You mean before now?”
I said it like James Dean would have, the way Eric had told me to say it if a girl ever asked me that question. Eric was pretty slick with girls.
“I’m serious, Landon,” she said, tossing me a sidelong glance.
I guess Jamie had seen those movies, too. With Jamie, I’d come to realize, I always seemed to be going from high to low and back to high again in less time than it takes to swat a mosquito. I wasn’t quite sure if I liked that part of our relationship yet, though to be honest, it kept me on my toes. I was still feeling off balance as I thought about her question.
“Actually, I have,” I said finally.
Her eyes were still fixed on the ocean. I think she thought I was talking about Angela, but looking back, I’d realized that what I’d felt for Angela was totally different from what I was feeling right now.
“How did you know it was love?” she asked me.
I watched the breeze gently moving her hair, and I knew that it was no time to pretend I was something that I actually wasn’t.
“Well,” I said seriously, “you know it’s love when all you want to do is spend time with the other person, and you sort of know that the other person feels the same way.”
Jamie thought about my answer before smiling faintly.
“I see,” she said softly. I waited for her to add something else, but she didn’t, and I came to another sudden realization.
Jamie may not have been all that experienced with boys, but to tell you the truth, she was playing me like a harp.
During the next two days, for instance, she wore her hair in a bun again.
On New Year’s Eve I took Jamie out to dinner. It was the very first real date she’d ever been on, and we went to a small waterfront restaurant in Morehead City, a place called Flauvin’s. Flauvin’s was the kind of restaurant with tablecloths and candles and five different pieces of silverware per setting. The waiters wore black and white, like butlers, and when you looked out the giant windows that completely lined the wall, you could watch moon-light reflecting off the slowly moving water.
There was a pianist and a singer, too, not every night or even every weekend, but on holidays when they thought the place would be full. I had to make reservations, and the first time I called they said they were filled, but I had my mom call them, and the next thing you knew, something had opened up. I guess the owner needed a favor from my father or something, or maybe he just didn’t want to make him angry, knowing that my grandfather was still alive and all.
It was actually my mom’s idea to take Jamie out someplace special. A couple of days before, on one of those days Jamie was wearing her hair in a bun, I talked to my mom about the things I was going through.
“She’s all I think about, Mom,” I confessed. “I mean, I know she likes me, but I don’t know if she feels the same way that I do.”
“Does she mean that much to you?” she asked.
“Yes,” I said quietly.
“Well, what have you tried so far?”
“What do you mean?”
My mom smiled. “I mean that young girls, even Jamie, like to be made to feel special.”
I thought about that for a moment, a little confused. Wasn’t that what I was trying to do?
“Well, I’ve been going to her house every day to visit,” I said.
My mom put her hand on my knee. Even though she wasn’t a great homemaker and sometimes stuck it to me, like I said earlier, she really was a sweet lady.
“Going to her house is a nice thing to do, but it’s not the most romantic thing there is. You should do something that will really let her know how you feel about her.”
My mom suggested buying some perfume, and though I knew that Jamie would probably be happy to receive it, it didn’t sound right