One or Two Things I Learned About Love (3 page)

Nomi
says if she wasn’t going out with Jax she thinks she’d be interested in Ely. I said, “Ely who?” She wanted to know how many Elys I know exactly. I said do you mean Ely Weimer? From the farm? He’s nearly seven feet tall and he plays the ukulele (it’s a sight). Though he is an excellent juggler. She said she thought I liked him. I said I do like him. Ely’s great. He brings laughter to the world of fruit and vegetables. Selling tomatoes wouldn’t be the same without him. But I never think of him like
that
. You know, like he’s a boy. Not one I might want to kiss or share a fork with or anything. Nomi said, “Well, I do.” I was astounded. I thought she was so into Jax that she never looked at other boys. (Or if she did they might as well be turnips.) Nomi went all Nomi, slapping her forehead and moaning. She said she didn’t realize that because she’s going out with Jax she was supposed to go around with a blindfold on and never think that any other boy was cute or nice. I said I thought that when you’re into one guy you can’t even think about anybody else. Nomi said I have a lot to learn about relationships. Gee, I wonder why that is. She said, “No, really, Hildy. Sometimes I worry about you.” (And I
don’t
?) Nomi said it’s as if I got everything I know about the boy-girl thing from songs and movies. I said well I obviously didn’t get it from real life, did I? Since I’ve never had a boyfriend. I wonder if I ever will. I think I’m under a curse. The Hildy D’Angelo Dating Curse.

Lebanon Road Movie Club Night. It was Louie’s turn to pick. Thank God. If it’s Louie’s choice it’s something old and interesting. Jax and Kruger (and Max when he’s here and not sitting around a campfire singing “Kumbaya”) always pick war movies, horror movies, thrillers or thrillers set during a war with an element of horror. I usually make cookies, but it’s so hot the thought of turning on the oven made me feel faint. Brought chips instead. Maggie brought Grady again. They held hands through the whole show. When they left, Grady thanked Mr and Mrs Masiado for their hospitality. Mrs Masiado wanted to know if he has a sister for Louie.

I’ve
noticed quite a few women carrying fans. Really. Nomi says that means we’re trendsetters. How awesome is that? Usually I don’t even know there’s a trend going on till it’s just about over. Will being a trendsetter make me more attractive to boys, or less? I think it could make me more attractive to some boys – the cutting-edge, first-to-have-a-tattoo-or-a-piercing type – and less attractive to others – the regular kind my parents would approve of. But since I’m not attractive to anyone, I guess it doesn’t really make any difference. Nonetheless, I do think Mrs Gorrie should give us commission.

One of Lenora’s friends threw the cat into the Palacios’ pool to see if it could swim. (It could swim, but it wasn’t happy about it.) Mrs Palacio loves that cat. She always says it’s the only member of the family who never gives her a hard time. (Which is true from what I’ve seen.) Anyway, eyewitnesses (Cristina and her cousin) say that when she heard the howls, Mrs P came charging out of the house like cavalry charging out of a fort in an old Western. Only not on a horse, but on four-inch heels. She went straight into the pool too. Mrs P and Dolittle were both so traumatized by this experience that Lenora and her friends are banned from the pool until further notice. So tonight we all went over there to hang out. I think Louie was hoping Mrs Palacio and Dolittle would fall in again because he brought his camera, but if he thought he was going to make a series of summer disasters he was out of luck. Dolittle’s not allowed anywhere near the pool without his new life jacket on. It’s bright pink. He looks like a chunk of bubblegum with feet. Mrs P admired our fans. She said they reminded her of Old Mexico. I said I’d tell Mrs Gorrie. It’ll make her year. Cristina insisted that we all act like we were having the best time since swimming pools were invented so her sister would be jealous. So we laughed and shrieked and splashed around like we were advertising fun. Until Mr Palacio (who has the personality of a dictator troll) came out huffing and puffing and told us to “simmer down” or none of us were going to be allowed near the pool until they hold the Winter Olympics on the Sahara. Turned out that Lenora wasn’t even home. Of course.

Zelda
put all of her dinosaurs in the washing machine this morning (that’s 176, if you’re counting). She flooded the kitchen. Mom asked her why she did that. Zelda said because they were dirty. And after everything was mopped up and Mom got all the dinosaurs out, there was one sodden, mutilated thing left at the bottom of the machine. That would be
my
fan. Zelda washed my Scarlett O’Hara fan. She said she washed it because it was dirty, too. I said it was not dirty. How could it be? I’ve only had it a few days. She said it was after it fell in the toilet. So this is my life: a teenage old maid who sleeps in the pantry and can’t even call a paper fan her own. I know it could be a lot worse. But it could also be a lot better.

Louie’s parents are going to be married forty years in August. I started working on a set of mugs for them today. I’m making them with lids because Mr Masiado always complains that if he leaves his coffee for two minutes it’s full of dog hairs, and Mrs Masiado always complains that by the time she gets to drink her coffee it’s cold. Forty years! It boggles the mind. You’d think they’d have run out of things to say to each other by now. Or that they’d get tired of looking at each other the way you get tired of having cornflakes for breakfast every day. But they haven’t and they’re not. They’re like the poster couple for True Love (even if they look more like the poster couple for Elastic Waistbands). Mr Masiado says Louie was an afterthought. As in, “After Loretta and I were happily married for 23 years we thought that what we needed was Louie to drive us nuts.” (This is the one drawback I can see to being an only child. All the responsibility for making your parents happy lands on YOU. Whereas you can make my parents happy by doing nothing. And it’s no big deal if you disappoint them, because there are three of us so they’re used to it.) Louie’s present to his folks is going to be a movie of them from their wedding day till now. (Which means there’ll be 23 years of them smiling and 17 of them looking like they’re waiting for the boiler to blow up.) August is still a way off, but it’s been in the preparation stages for months. (Just having their home movies digitized took longer than the life cycle of a tomato.) Louie’s really well organized for someone who’s so eccentric. Now he’s moving onto the production stage. He’s got a lot of new footage that he’s been secretly taking since January that he’s going to mix in with the other 39-and-a-half years of recorded family history. So since Nomi was out with Jax, Maggie was out with Grady, Sara had band practice and Cristina was waiting for Max to call, I went over tonight to help him work on it. It’s going to be really, really good. It has everything: humour, passion, drama, pathos, dogs – and Mr and Mrs Masiado dressed up for a masquerade party as Marge and Homer Simpson. Maybe Louie
is
a genius.

I had this really good idea while Louie and I were watching a clip of Mr and Mrs Masiado learning to tango (she kept leading him into stationary objects and then he dropped her, but they both kept right on laughing). If by the time Louie and I are 40 neither of us has found our soulmate, I think we should marry each other. There wouldn’t be any sex or anything, just companionship and someone else to pay half the bills. It makes sense. We’ve known each other for ever. We really really like each other. We make each other laugh. We have a gazillion things in common. And there’s no one I trust more. Not even the D’Angelos. Maybe I should say
especially not
the D’Angelos. Let’s not forget the time we went camping and I went to the bathroom and when I came back they’d all locked themselves in the car because they saw a bear. (You notice how nobody’s first instinct was to warn
me
!) But I know that if I was in danger, Louie would go to the wall for me, just like I would for him.

Maybe
I spoke too soon when I said this summer was going to be about as special as toast. Because – even though I can hardly believe it – I HAVE A DATE! That’s right, ladies and gentlemen. I, Hildy D’Angelo, the girl most likely never to be kissed, have a date. A REAL DATE! Well, I almost have a date. I mean, I’m
going
to have a date. And not just, you know, SOME DAY. As soon as he calls and asks me out officially.
Would you like to go to a movie, Hildy? And maybe afterwards we could grab a burger or something…
And I will act surprised and say,
Oh that sounds great—
Good grief! I can’t remember his name! How can I not remember his name?
Oh, thank you – whatever your name is – that sounds great. I can’t wait!
Anyway, I’m too excited to say more about it now. I have to call Nomi and find out what his name is. I just wanted to put it in writing. Not because I think I’m going to forget. No worries there. But in case it winds up having historical significance. You know, so if we fall in love and get married and have 16 children, I can say,
See? That’s what I wrote the day we met!
How romantic is that?