Perfect (8 page)

Not going to lose Cara, too.

Which is why I’ve got

a game plan. One I’m

sticking to. When you’ve

only got one little shimmer

of sunshine, you capture it

best you can. I will marry

that girl one day. Not

that I’ve asked her yet.

That page of our memoir

isn’t ready to be written.

Right now I’m working

on the chapter that sends

us to college together.

First things first, and I

always prefer to write

in chronological order.

Mostly because it’s [chrono]

logical. I keep hearing that

love isn’t a logical emotion.

Should I worry about that?

It Does Worry Me Some

Which is probably why, until

Cara, I refused to give my

heart away. I mean, I’ve

never had to work to get

a girlfriend. I have sampled

more than a few yummy

female delicacies. But

they’ve all been appetizers.

Cara is a main course.

I’d call her comfort food.

Just not to her face. Don’t

think she’d appreciate

the metaphor. Truth

is, I’ve got nothing but

respect for that girl. I love

her more than anything,

and I know this love is

real because, unlike

my other relationships,

it’s not all about sex.

So Far, In Fact

It isn’t about sex at all. Lots

of kissing. A stolen second

base or fifty, plus a definite

leadoff toward third a time

or two. But the only home runs

I’ve hit lately have been at

baseball practice. I think

if love is real, and headed

toward the altar, the sex part

can—within reason—wait.

My big brother thinks I’m

crazy.
Dude,
he told me,
if

you’re really thinking forever,

you’d better take a test-drive.

What if she sucks in bed?

I’ve test-driven four or five.

And the thing is, there wasn’t

a helluva lot of difference

in the way they handled. Tune

’em up, hit the freeway. Fly.

One of My Former High-Horsepower Rides

Happens to be texting Cara

right now. Kendra and I had

a short, sweet, ten thousand

RPM fling before she and Conner

hooked up. Kind of incestuous,

I guess. Wonder what’s going

on. Not like she and Cara are

tight or anything. Lukewarm

buddies at best. “What does

she want?” Hope that didn’t

sound as impatient as it felt.

Nothing important.
If that’s

true, why do they keep going

back and forth for so long?

She’s on her way to Elko.

“Another brainless beauty

contest?” Right up her alley.

She’s got it all in the looks

department. Intellect-wise,

however, she’s no Cara.

Probably. I’m not sure.

Now she’s sounding kind

of short. In between texts,

she stares out the window,

contemplating each answer,

it seems. Finally she sighs,

thumbs one last message,

hits send, and puts her cell

away. “You want to tell me

what that was all about?”

Not especially.
That’s it.

Not exactly what I’d call

communication. Sometimes Cara

reminds me of her mother.

I’ll keep that to myself.

I’ve Talked To Her Parents

A few times. Her dad is cool.

Meaning chilled. I think it

probably takes a lot to get

the dude excited. He isn’t

friendly. But he’s cordial.

That probably has a lot to

do with being a lobbyist.

Totally outstanding butt

kissers, especially those

who lobby for insurance.

They might have a shitload

of “buddies,” but I bet they

don’t have a lot of friends,

unless you count the ones in

high places and back pockets.

Anyway, considering who

he’s married to, the guy

deserves credit for being

even tepid. Especially

when holed up at home.

Because Cara’s Mom

Reminds me of crystal—

all sparkly and beautiful

distraction while it carves

you clear to the bone. She

is a don’t-turn-your-back-

on-her kind of woman.

Our first encounter was

a lot like a job interview.

We are careful about who

our daughter is allowed

to date,
she declared, before

basically third-degreeing me

as to my qualifications. She’s

a high-society high roller who

steamrolled right over me.

It was almost enough to make

me rethink things with Cara.

Except she’s just so damn

perfect. Well, other than when

it comes to communication.

We’ll Have To Work On That

But, hey, we’ve got plenty

of time.
Forever
takes a while.

Meanwhile, I’m practicing

how to get my way without

her noticing. Subtlety is not

my best thing, but control

and Cara are not easily

juxtaposed. It’s a challenge,

but one I’m equal to. Not

that I’d say so out loud.

Staying (subtly) in control

requires current information.

“So have you heard from

Stanford yet?” She pretty

much aced her SATs. Grades

are outstanding. Community

service likewise.
Not yet. Dad

says it will probably be a few

weeks still. I did hear from

Loyola, though. They want me.

“Loyola? I didn’t know

you applied there.” Not in

the game plan. Suddenly

my gut feels scrambled.

“You’re not even Catholic.”

We don’t go to church often,

and when we do, it’s usually

to Holy Cross Lutheran. Mom

isn’t into the whole Pope thing.

But Dad was raised Catholic.

“So, he really believes in all

that ‘wine into blood’ bullshit?”

I bet the real reason they go

Lutheran is so he doesn’t have

to confess. Too much time,

trading Hail Marys for penance.