Recipe for a Happy Life: A Novel by Janowitz Brenda

Author:Janowitz, Brenda [Janowitz, Brenda]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2013-07-02T00:00:00+00:00

Twenty-five

My grandmother can see it on my face the moment I walk in the door.

“You’re gone, aren’t you?” she says.

My bathing suit and cover-up have dried, but now they’re itchy from the chlorine. I stand there like a little girl, squirming around while my grandmother chastises me.

“Now you don’t like Nate Sugarman?” I ask.

“I like Nate Sugarman just fine,” she says. “More than fine. But he’s besides the point. This is about you. Don’t fall too hard for just one.”

“What if I don’t want to date anyone else right now?” I’m trying hard not to think about sex. I’m sure that if I’m thinking about sex, my grandmother will be able to see that on my face, too. But how can you date someone else when you’re sleeping with one person? As I wait for my grandmother’s response, I think about whether or not she has this same issue. Does she sleep with each person she dates? As I think about this, I realize I can no longer look my grandmother in the eye.

“You should be meeting all different types of men. Dating all different types of men. You can’t really do that if you’re smitten with just one.”

“I’m not smitten,” I say, trying not to smile.

“Oh please.”

* * *

When I hear the doorbell ring twenty minutes later, I fly down the stairs to meet Nate. My grandmother beats me to the punch and I hear Nate say to her: “Mrs. Morganfelder, may I take your granddaughter out to dinner this evening?”

I stifle a giggle. I think it’s completely adorable, but I have a feeling that my grandmother may not agree.

Half an hour later, we’re on Route 27, in Nate’s windowless, doorless Jeep. I have no idea where we’re going. I lean back and take a deep breath. I enjoy the view and try to enjoy the not knowing. When Nate sees my wet hair flopping around in the wind, he leans over and opens the glove compartment. He takes out a baseball cap.

“Thanks,” I say as we head further east on Route 27.

We pull off the road, into a driveway that looks like every other driveway on Route 27. I have no idea where we are.

The Jeep glides down the driveway and stops outside a little bungalow with Chinese lanterns strung from every tree in sight. I don’t know quite what to expect, but when Nate grabs my hand I realize I don’t really care where we are going.

We walk into the bungalow, which is completely empty, except for a small bar without any bar stools. “Where are we?” I ask. Nate smiles, leading me out the back door, and I see what we came all this way for. There are a dozen or so tables right there in the sand. Tiki torches light up the perimeter, and more Chinese lanterns twinkle above. The sun has just about set, and it casts an orange-pink glow on the beach.

“Nate, this is—”

“I know,” he says, and puts his hand on the small of my back.

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