“Sounds like. I guess she forgot it was this particular Sunday.”
“She does that. Forgets what day it is.”
“Yeah.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I think she’s hoping one of the families will rent her a spare room. Not that it’s a problem for me if she stays in my spare room for a while, but she doesn’t want to do that indefinitely.”
“I get it. That’s not a great dynamic between friends.”Are you just friends?I wondered.
“Yes, so anyway…It would just be you and me today. If that’s okay with you.” He gave me a little smile.
“I mean if you don’t mind. If you have other things to do?—”
“Well, I do mind, actually, as I have a lot of childhood trauma from puffins, but I’m willing to suffer.”
“That’s very noble of you.”
“A noble sacrifice,” he agreed. “Please take note of any particularly heroic things I might do along the way, like stopping for donuts.”
He gestured to his car, which was a small green Mini Cooper. I started laughing as I got inside.
“Of course you’d have a Mini Cooper.”
“What’s wrong with a Mini?”
“You’re too tall for a Mini. It’s a short person car.”
“That is not a short person car.” Paul smirked. “If Jason Statham can drive one inThe Italian Job…”
“That was Mark Wahlberg.”
“It was Statham and Wahlberg and Charlize Theron. You do not want to go up against me on the Mini question.”
I settled into the front seat.
“The Mini question?”
“The films. You’ve gotThe Bournefilms,Austin Powers...the originalItalian Jobfrom 1969.”
“I will admit that Michael Caine is tall.”
“The other reason I have this is that my house relies on street parking, and it can be helpful to have something that can squeeze between the two incompetent neighbors who take up half the street.”
“Say no more. I have vicarious trauma from watching my sister once try to fit a full-sized car into a space big enough for a motorcycle in Brooklyn.”
Paul took off down the road with surprising speed, as if to make his point that his car was flashy and cool. Once we’d driven a few blocks and were emerging from the downtown area onto the highway, he glanced at me.
“So…”
“Why Newfoundland?” I guessed.
“You never actually answered. Unless you want me to believe there is no good improv in New York City.”
“I hate hot weather,” I said. “And honestly, I was thinking of maybe leaving the United States for good, so I did this as a…a dare to myself. My sister moved to Atlanta, and I’d been watching her daughter four days a week, so suddenly I was free to go anywhere.”
“That was nice of you. To watch your niece.”
“I didn’t mind. Hannah’s a great kid. But it was a shock when they left because I guess my life revolved around them. I got used to having no kids because Hannah was like my kid, and then suddenly they just…” I hesitated, wondering if I was admitting too much. “Though I don’t know if they’ll stay in Atlanta. She’s trying to work things out with her ex, and he’s not reliable. I may have to dash back home and take care of her unexpectedly when it all falls apart.”
“So why did you leave the States? Why not just move to a different city?”
