Annie coughed again, no doubt choking on the thought of bringing a delinquent to Bainbridge Island for the weekend.
“I mean . . . I live in Weston,” I corrected. “I don’t get home much.”
“That’s a shame,” Doc Mom said. “Well, you are welcome to visit us anytime you’d like.”
I looked at Annie and smiled, and she mouthed “pervert” to me.
We were paused in a line of cars making their way onto the ferry.
“Well, what brought you two together?” Doc Dad asked me.
“Annie was the first person I met at Pine Mountain,” I said. “I was really lost and out of place when I started.” I slid my hand over so I touched Annie’s fingers, and she pulled her hand away. “But Annie came right up and introduced herself and helped show me around. She’s been my best friend ever since that day, and I’d do anything for her.”
“You are such a sweet boy!” Doc Mom chirped. “Have you ever been to Seattle before, Ryan Dean?”
“No, ma’am,” I said, laying it on as thick as possible, momentarily fantasizing about that dreamed-of couch in Annie’s bedroom. “But it really is beautiful here.”
“Wait till you see the house,” she said. “We are right on the waterfront, and we look across the sound to the Seattle skyline and Mount Rainier. It’s a perfect spot.”
Yeah, I thought, how could it
“Oh, I forgot to tell you,” Annie said. “Did you bring any swim trunks? We have an indoor pool and Jacuzzi.”
“Wow,” I said. “No. I didn’t.”
I looked down, then shrugged and looked over at Annie and whispered, “I’ll go without.”
Annie rolled her eyes.
“We can pick some up for you on the island, Ryan Dean,” Doc Mom said.
Score.
Even if it rained all weekend, I’d still get to be Annie Altman’s pool boy.
Chapter Fifty-Two
OKAY.
I realized why my dad refuses to shop for anything, even golf clubs and fishing gear, with my mom.
For most women, I think shopping becomes something like a model of the expanding universe, only rather than relating to the Big Bang, Ryan Dean West’s Law of Shopping deals with the expansion of time, and “adorable stuff” to look at. Kind of like a supernova rather than a black hole—the opposite of having your balls stepped on, as similar as the experiences may actually be.
I can only imagine, not that I thought for even a fleeting instant about opening that goddamned package, that my mother had spent all day long asking all kinds of questions before deciding on just the right condoms and “how to have sex the first time” booklet, which she later undoubtedly exchanged for a cute pair of socks with sailboats on them before ultimately leaving the store and going to a different goddamned condom and “how to have sex the first time” emporium.
This is shopping.
And this was the Ryan-Dean-West-swim-trunk-shopping expedition with Annie and Doc Mom.
At first, Annie was messing around and tried to make a case that I was on the Pine Mountain swim team, so she told Doc Mom to look in the Speedo section.
Her mistake. I completely went along with her. What was she thinking? I actually thought it would be kind of hot to wear Speedos in front of Annie and her mom. But when Annie realized what was happening, she got this terrified, defeated look and said, “I think it’s time for you to move up to big boy board shorts, Ryan Dean.”
“No. Really,” I insisted.
The only cool part about the whole experience was that every time they’d look at a new pair of trunks, Doc Mom would hold them up to my waist, pinning them with her thumbs to my hips so she and Annie could imagine how I’d look in them.
Yeah, I’ll admit I didn’t get too tired of that routine.
And the shopping went on and on until Doc Dad said he had to pee really bad. So Annie and Doc Mom settled on a pair of plain red lifeguard baggies that were exactly the ones I would have chosen for myself about an hour and a half earlier.
While they were waiting to pay, Doc Dad leaned close to me and whispered, “I don’t really have to pee, Ryan Dean, but I’ve found that the need to pee is about the only force that sufficiently shrinks Rachel’s universe to the point where she’ll cut short a shopping experience.”
Now here was a guy I totally understood.
I bet he could fake-cry, too.
Chapter Fifty-Three
GREEN.
That’s Bainbridge Island.
It’s one of the most intensely green places I’ve ever seen. And I never for a moment imagined the kind of home Annie’s family lived in.
The house was set right up against the shore, facing Puget Sound and, across it, Seattle. We drove up a long driveway through trees to the garage, and then walked a pathway through gardens that had been decorated with strange and beautiful metal and enamel sculptures of fish, animals, and native totems.
“Annie made all of these sculptures herself,” Doc Mom said, “in her studio.”
They were incredible. I looked at Annie. I always knew she was creative and brilliant, but I never realized she could do something as amazing as this.
“You’re incredible,” I said to her.
“Thank you,” she said.
Where the gardens opened up, we stepped out onto a wide grass lawn in front of the house, which was mostly made of stone and had tall windows all along the front, looking out across the water. There was a broad wooden deck on the edge of the lawn, right where the grass gave way to a slope of black lava rocks that lined the shore. You couldn’t see any other house from there; the property was surrounded by forest.
And just as we got to the front door, the sun hit the perfect angle in the west behind us, and it looked like the entire city of Seattle turned rust hued, and the peak of Mount Rainier seemed to float, salmon colored, in the sky.
“Hey,” I said, “you can see the Space Needle from your front yard.”
Annie rolled her eyes.
“If you get changed out of your strip-search clothes, we can walk on the beach before dinner,” she said.
I will admit that my inside-out sock was bothering me, but all I had besides school clothes were running shorts, sweats, and my new swim trunks.
“Okay,” I said.
Doc Dad led the way into the entry hall and said, “Annie, why don’t you take Ryan Dean to the guest room.”
Damn.
“Oh, he doesn’t want to be that far away, all alone,” she said.
