Page 37 of Pretend You're Mine
A horn blared.
We separated, laughing as I looked up at the green light.
I hit the gas.
A few minutes later, we were there, parked and getting out of the car, picnic basket in hand.
I’d managed to get us a spot right on the edge of the park, which we could see was flocked with people. I was hoping we’d be able to find a spot to set our spread. I set off straight for the lake.
As we neared, Naomi paused, “Aren’t there swans?” she asked, looking for the offending creature.
Sure enough, as soon as I plopped our picnic basket down, a swan waddled up, hissing and snapping its beak menacingly. Immediately, I grabbed Naomi’s hat and waved my own menacing figure-eight back at the swan, who scurried away. Laughing, Naomi snatched her hat back.
“My hero. Although you should never grab a hat off a lady’s head, you don’t know what her hair situation is underneath.”
“It was an emergency,” I deadpanned. She only smiled.
We sat down, her gaze traveling over the lake. It wasn’t a small one; you could hardly see the far end of it. The way the sun was trailing its long white fingers across the reflection of its waves, made it seem to stretch even farther.
Our spot under the tree was a good one. The combination of the gentle rustling of the wind as it played with the leaves, the soft lap of the lake at the rocky water’s edge, and the far-off murmur of voices was our soundtrack for the day. The air had a crisp clearness that was pleasant too.
As we set out the food, Naomi went from mildly impressed – “You bought two baguettes?” – to overtly impressed – “You remembered that cherries are my favorite”- to suspicious – “No way you did this for just us.”
“Why not?” I frowned, ripping off a piece of baguette. I didn’t put it in my mouth, my gaze on her, waiting for her response.
Naomi nibbled on a piece of Swiss cheese. “It just seems like a lot for the two of us.”
“And I told you. This is for me. For us. I don’t know what the hell my family’s doing today, and I don’t care.”
I held up a cherry in between us. My teeth dug into the sweet mahogany flesh of the fruit. She bit into the other side, then drew back. I ate the rest in silence, then asked, “Why did you agree if you were so suspicious?”
Naomi was picking some lint off her dress. “Let’s not get into this.”
And in the silence that followed her words, there were so many more. So many half-realizations and twines of feelings that I hadn’t made sense of yet, that I still wasn’t sure I wanted to.
So I just ate, and to my relief, she did the same.
“You know that is probably not a good idea,” I told Naomi as she flung a piece of baguette to a group of nearby ducks a few minutes later, once we’d mostly eaten our fill. She only laughed as the ducks waddled up, their beaks snatching for the food.
A few seconds later, against my better judgment, I found myself tossing a piece of baguette their way too.
“You were saying?” Naomi said with a smiled faux innocence as she tossed another bread chunk to the ducks, who were pecking at the grass to gobble up the bounty.
I shook my head. “Just don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
It only took a few minutes of us chatting and eating before we noticed the intruders. Standing at the edge of our picnic blanket, like particularly overeager sentries, were at least seven ducks.
As Naomi lifted a piece of baguette to her lips, one particularly bold duck wandered onto the picnic blanket, a little too close for comfort.
I shooed it away, but Naomi got to her feet. “I think that’s our cue to leave.”
Getting to my feet, I clapped my hands loudly and advanced on the ducks, but they only parted to let me pass.
Naomi tugged at my arm. “Just leave them be.”
I glared at their unfazed glassy eyes, but Naomi tugged my arm again, so I helped her pack up the rest of our stuff and leave.
There was, admittedly, a nice walk to be had around the circumference of the lake.
So, arm in arm, we meandered down the dirt pathway. I couldn’t keep my eyes off Naomi’s smile.
“What is it?” I asked.
“Just – it looks exactly how I remember, here.”
“Guess this is a pretty popular park,” I commented. “Came here as a kid?”
She nodded. I tried imagining her as a little girl, but the only image I got was a palm-sized kid with her adult face slapped onto it, which was still adorable but unsatisfactory.
“The church picnics always used to be here,” Naomi said, pointing. I followed the line of her finger to a far-off willow tree. “That was the place they always had them; hot dogs and hamburgers and the dubious dish that adults always claimed was Jell-O.”
