The Palmer Pool

26 | Scene

The tight knot of anxiety under my ribs gradually rose to my throat as we drove deeper into the woods on a curving country road and Liz's words echoed in my head. Only hours after she told me to go with the flow, I messed up.

When I met Pete after work, he told me he'd forgotten that on Mondays his mother's family came over for dinner. His grandma lived out in the country with his aunt and uncle. He was supposed to drive her back home afterward in the Pontiac because Grandma couldn't handle the bumpy ride in his truck, while his aunt attended her Palmer Women's Club meeting and his uncle went to the Lions Club. That was the routine and I knew I shouldn't interfere with the routine. I insisted I'd meet him after he had dinner with his family and performed his regular Grandma-shuttling duty.

But when he found me at the boardwalk a little while later, he was excited to tell me he'd convinced his mother to drive Grandma home and he was free for the rest of the night. He took me to Jack's, where I ordered a chocolate shake. I was tired from a day on my own and a liquid meal required no utensils and minimal effort. The end of our time together was already looming. It hung heavily in the pauses in our conversation and crept in when our laughter faded to grim smiles.

"How about a movie?" I suggested without thinking when Pete asked what I'd like to do that night, and then backtracked, "Well, actually let's do whatever you'd normally do, like if I wasn't here."

"You are here, though," he said, "so let's go to a movie."

"So, do you watch movies at drive-ins? Isn't that how it's done these days?"

"Whaddya mean, 'these days'? Haven't you ever been to a drive-in?"

I shook my head and his eyes lit up.

"You mean I get to show you something new?"

"Everything with you is new to me," I admitted.

The Mid-Way Drive-In, which was halfway between Palmer and the next town over, was marked with a black and white sign on the side of the road that said, "NOW SHOWING: IT CAME FROM OUTER SPACE!" Pete drove up to the ticket booth to pay and into a clearing in the woods. He pointed out two simple white buildings: the projection building and the one for the concessions and bathrooms. And that was about all there was to it other than the giant screen near the edge of the woods. I must've forgotten that I was still only a few miles away from Palmer, because I expected something a little flashier.

The lot was less than half full but Pete pulled into a spot in the back, far away from any other cars and so close to the trees I could smell pine needles when he rolled his window down. He removed the speaker from the pole we were parked next to and set it in the window.

"You've probably already seen this one, right?"

"No, I don't really like old movies. Or sci-fi stuff."

"Old movies," he sighed. "Why not?"

"I don't know. I think they're boring. I don't like the black and white. The women are always fainting or crying or getting slapped. Or getting slapped and then kissed. I'm predicting lots of fainting in this one. Because aliens." He smirked, then promptly lifted his hand to wipe it from his face. "What?" I asked, in a tone that dared him to tell me what he was thinking.

"I've seen you cry a few times. And faint."

"Yeah, well, if you ever slap me, I'm outta here. And you've probably already seen me cry more than my own mother has. I'm not usually like this. In another life I'm a cold-hearted bitch."

"That's too bad."

"I think I prefer it, actually; I feel more in control. And I'm usually too busy for emotions anyway."