Finley leads the way to a large fire pit with five Adirondack chairs surrounding it. Then she walks up to it, pulls a lighter out of her pocket and lights it. It immediately bursts into giant flames. “Everyone sit down and warm up,” she orders.
We all find a space by the fire and take a seat. Meanwhile, Finley walks toward a large red cooler that she must have placed there earlier. She opens it up and pulls out five thermoses. As she hands them around, she announces, “Hot chocolate to warm your insides.” Then she pulls out a pack of marshmallows for anyone who wants them.
“This is lovely!” My mom sounds as excited as a little kid. “It’s just like how we do it in the Hamptons. Except, you know, it’s summer and not forty-five degrees.”
“Thomas told me how much he loves the beach,” Finley says. “I wanted to show him that I was paying attention.”
“Very nice, Finley.” This comment comes from my dad.
“We’re just getting started,” Finley tells us. Then she sits down in the open chair next to mine. She pulls out her phone and sends a text before telling us, “I realize that it’s important to stretch my boundaries and I haven’t been doing that as much as I should.”
“It’s hard to do,” my sister says.
“There’s nothing wrong with staying within your own comfort level,” my mom tells her.
Finley opens her hot chocolate and takes a sip before responding, “Yes, but we live in a world that doesn’t exactly honor our differences. It’s really on us to try to meet people more than halfway.” She raises her thermos to Vivie as if giving her an air toast.
“Just so long as you don’t go too far out of your comfort zone,” I tell Finley while reaching over to take her yellow-rubber-gloved hand in mine.
We continue to enjoy the fire and conversation when a delivery truck pulls into the parking lot. Moments later, two men walk toward us carrying various bags. Finley directs them to put them down next to her chair.
As they walk away, she tells us, “Dinner has arrived!”
Unpacking the first bag she pulls out long, foil-covered, oblong shaped objects. With a cringe on her face—I’m assuming because of the foil—she hands them out. “Hot dogs!” she announces. Then she distributes plastic ramekins full of ketchup, mustard, and relish.
“Are these especially good hot dogs?” my mom asks while holding her supper like it’s a live grenade.
Finley shrugs. “I don’t know. I hope they’re good.”
“Is there some significance to hot dogs?” my dad wants to know.
“They’re part of Thomas’s favorite meal,” she tells him confidently. Then she opens another bag and pulls out several plastic bags containing pink cotton candy. She distributes these next.
“Cotton candy and hot dogs?” Vivie declares excitedly before asking, “I don’t suppose you have any strawberry lemonade, too?”
“Funny you should ask,” Finley says before opening the final bag. She hands out bottles of strawberry lemonade.
My parents both look completely baffled, so I remind them, “This is what we ate at Coney Island when you took us there when we were little. I told Finley it was my favorite meal.”
“You threw it all up on Dino’s Wonder Wheel,” my mom reminds me.
“I did,” I confirm. “And while the food was nowhere near as delicious coming up as it was going down, I truly did love that meal.” I turn to Finley and say, “Thank you for remembering and thank you for going to all this trouble to show you care.”
She’s beaming like she just won the lottery. “I like when people pay attention to things that are important to me. I try to do the same.”If only the rest of the world was that attuned.
We all enjoy our meal and ensuing conversation and when we’re all done, Finley walks around with an empty bag for us to throw our garbage into.
Moments later, Kevin shows up. He toots his horn twice to get our attention. As my parents and Vivie stand, my mom says, “This was a truly enjoyable evening, Finley. Thank you very much.”
My dad adds, “I think a trip back to Coney Island might be in order. Maybe this time Finley could join us.”
Finley shakes her head sharply. “No, thank you. I don’t like amusement parks.”
“Don’t hurry home,” Vivie says as she walks by us. She stops and gives Finley a hug. “Thank you for being you,” she says. As far as votes of confidence go, this appears to be the perfect thing for her to say.
Finley responds, “Thank you for being you, Vivie. Knowing you makes me feel almost normal.”
I love that my sister—and, dare I say, girlfriend?—have formed such a fast bond. This is one of the many things that makes me think the Universe knew what it was doing by sending me to Elk Lake.
