“Do you have…memories of a picnic?” I try, doing my best to address her concerns tactfully.
“Your father and I,” Marlena begins, placing a heavy hand on the counter as if the house’s gravity has just shifted. “We had a picnic in Italy.”
“Okay,” I say, encouraging her to tell me more.
“It was lovely,” she moans, putting her head down.
I have no idea what’s going on. If I’ve just stumbled onto a scenario where a picnic went horribly wrong, or whether there’s something she’s not telling me, it’s obvious that there’s more to our conversation than meets the eye.
After a moment, Marlena pops back up. She wipes tears from her eyes and gives me a brave smile. “I’m sorry. You didn’t need that.”
“No,” I assure her. “It’s fine. Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” she asserts. “I’m just having one of those days.”
“Right,” I say, as if I have any clue what she’s talking about.
But then she puts her hand on her stomach, and it all becomes clear.
“Your baby,” I exclaim, putting two and two together.
“It’s the pregnancy hormones,” she tells me.
I exhale in relief. “Thank God. I mean, I’m sorry that you have to go through that, but I was thinking that there was some deep, dark picnic secret that you were about to reveal.”
Marlena laughs. “No. It was a lovely picnic. You should definitely take your friend on a picnic.”
I love the way she says the word, ‘friend.’ It’s like there’s an unspoken pact between us not to discuss my love life any further. Marlena has to know that this isn’t a simple friend situation. No matter how much you might enjoy spending time with a friend, it’s unlikely that you’ll go on a picnic with a casual acquaintance. Picnics are for lovers. Everyone knows that. Of course, Sofia and I aren’t lovers, but I hope we’re moving in that general direction. Marlena’s letting me off the hook by steering clear of that whole discussion.
“So, do you know if we have a picnic basket?” I ask, now that we have all that sorted out.
“Upstairs in the attic, I think,” Marlena says.
“Great,” I declare, hurrying past her to mount the steps.
I just invited Sofia out spontaneously, and she said, ‘Yes.’ There’s no time to waste. I take a sharp left at the top of the stairs and open the door to the attic. I don’t come up here often, but it’s not that bad. My father’s staff keeps it pretty organized.
I find a picnic basket sitting on top of an old dresser with a bunch of dried flowers. I grab it, hurry downstairs, and pack it up. Marlena’s pouring herself a cup of tea. I wonder if every day is going to be quite so entertaining between now and the baby’s birth. I hope not. I like Marlena a lot, but she caught me completely off guard with her rush of emotions.
I kiss her on the cheek and leave before things can get any weirder. As I’m passing through the front door, I notice a handful of our men hanging out on the porch. I recognize a few of them, but there are some unfamiliar faces.
One loiterer is my bodyguard. He stands up as I walk past. “Where are we off to, chief?”
“The park downtown,” I say, indicating my picnic basket.
The bodyguard doesn’t say anything else. He simply pulls a set of keys out of his pocket and follows me to the garage. He could have made fun of my picnic basket, but he’s too smart for that. I kind of like him. He doesn’t say much, but when he does, it’s usually friendly.
I climb into my car and drive off the property. It takes about twenty minutes to get downtown, and when I park, I’m nervous. I really like Sofia and I hope she likes me. I try to assure myself that she does by rationalizing her responses. She wouldn’t have agreed to meet me if she weren’t interested. I need to stop second-guessing myself and just go with it.
I put on the parking brake and stare out the windshield for a long moment.This is going to be good,I tell myself.I’m going to have a great time.
The words ring just a little hollow. I hope I’ll have a great time. I feel like I’m out on a limb, hoping that I’m making all theright moves, but not entirely sure. The wheels have been set in motion, and there’s no turning back. Not that I would want to, but I’m going to have to hold my breath and hope that the picnic thing impresses her.
Stepping out of the car, I stoop down to pop the trunk. Inside, there’s a blanket and the basket. I grab both and step out onto the lawn to search for a place to set up.
There are a few places right out in the open. I can see I’m not the only person who had this brilliant idea. There’s another couple sharing a blanket and a meal beneath a tree. I keep walking. I want to find somewhere scenic and private.
I follow a small trail down through a row of trees and discover a tiny stream running through the park. I can easily cross to the opposite side where there is a flat space just big enough for the picnic blanket.
