“Here’s the plan. I drove all the way down here to, uh, fix things. Now it makes perfect sense that you come up with me tonight to Vancouver. BC. Canada. Not the fake Vancouver across the river.”
“Are you kidding me?” I said. “It’s like nine o’clock at night!”
“OK, maybe we won’t make it as far as Vancouver, but anyway, we’ll get as far as we can. We have a hockey game to attend!”
“What?” I rubbed my temples again. None of this was making any sense.
“You said last time that it would be ‘great’ if we actually hung out in a normal setting and got to know each other as people instead of running around with ghosts and scaring our panties off each other.”
It’s true. I did say that. Not the panties part but I did mention, offhand by the way, that it would be nice if we could just hang out like normal people did. Like friends. But I didn’t see where this was going.
He read the confusion on my face. It wasn’t hard. “There’s a Canucks hockey game against the Rangers tomorrow night. I got us tickets. We have to go to Vancouver anyway, to talk to someone about the filming. So you know, I was just trying to be a good guy and please you.”
“Phhff,” I sniffed. “Please me? What if I said I hated hockey?”
“I’d never speak to you again,” he said, narrowing his eyes. It was hard to see how serious he was. He hadn’t really mentioned hockey before, at least not when I was listening, but he also took the weirdest things very seriously. “Is it true?”
“No.” I didn’t have anything against the sport, I just didn’t know anything about hockey. Understandable, since we had no NHL teams in Oregon, just the minor league Portland Winterhawks.
“Good,” he said, still watching me carefully. “Then we can still be friends.”
“So, we leave tonight…go to the island on Friday?”
“Correct–a–mundo. Then we come back on Sunday, just in time for your birthday on Monday.”
“You know when my birthday is?” I was sorta touched by that. It was sad that I was so easily impressed.
He tapped his head. “I’m more observant than you think. Now, without any more jerking off from you, I suggest you get packing as fast as you can. I’ll help. Where are your bras and underwear?”
I rolled my eyes, pulled out my overnight bag and started cramming crap in there.
* * *
I don’t think I’ve ever packed so fast in my life – I obviously needed to get out of that house more than I knew.
With Dex at my side it also kept any exchanges with my parents at a polite distance. My dad even helped us rummage through the garage to find me a sleeping bag. Staying on the island did not involve staying in any fancy cabins. We would be camping the entire time. Yeah, in November. In Canada. Fun times.
I could tell my parents were having a hard time coming to terms with the situation. They were still mad at my lies, disappointed in my choices but at the same time they understood where Dex was coming from. As much as they hated the idea that I had involved another person in my problem, they had no choice but to accept it. And having Dex there, an accomplished (sorta) and mature (again, sorta) man there probably helped.
And Ada…well, I knew how Ada felt about the whole thing. Just as we were coming out of the garage, she yanked me aside.
“You’re totally going to sleep with him now,” she hissed roughly in my ear.
I ignored her. There was no way I was going to get caught in that argument again, not with the subject slinking around in front of me.
Luckily we made it out of the house in record time and were soon cruising through the darkness on the I–5, heading north. Dex’s black Highlander was packed with everything from filmmaking equipment to a tent and camping gear.
Dex is one of those people who prefers to blast the music loudly and keep chit–chat down to a minimum. This trip was no exception. I found a strange comfort in our shared silence now, just hearing the music and the sound of his toothpick as it flitted against his teeth. When we first met I was so nervous being alone with him, I just needed to blab about anything to fill the air. I felt just a teeny bit proud that I knew Dex enough now that if we needed to talk, he’d be the one bringing it up.
Which is what happened an hour into our journey. I was in the midst of checking my emails on my phone when I felt him give me a curious look. It sounds stupid but you can always tell when Dex is looking at you. At least I could, even from miles away. Something about those eyes…
“So I’ve seen you’ve got your fair share of haters on the blog already,” he said. “Good job.”
I sighed loudly. I had wanted to talk about this for so long.
“You’re telling me,” I said, giving him a pained and drawn–out look.
He seemed to think on that for a moment; a hint of gentleness graced his expression.
“Well, that’s the nature of the internet,” he mused matter–of–factly. “If you didn’t have haters, then I’d worry.”
“Yeah but they are really mean,” I pointed out.
“The internet is full of meanies. Their opinion doesn’t matter.”
Yes, it does, I thought.
He picked up on that. “Okay, it shouldn’t matter.”
“Maybe we should close down the comment section… it reflects badly on the show, doesn’t it?”
He chuckled to himself and shook his head. “No can do, kiddo. Don’t underestimate the power of creating a community on the web. By having a place for people to voice their opinion, no matter how f**ked it is, attracts more people to the site. The more people to the site, the more people to watch the show, the more people to watch the show, the more ads we get, the more ads we get, the more pay I get, and eventually you. It’s a numbers game. You just have to buck up and ignore the haters. Everyone gets them, from the smallest blogs to the biggest websites.”
“Besides,” he said, slapping me on the leg. “I think it’ll be good for you. Toughen you up a bit.”
“I’m already tough enough,” I muttered.
“If you were that tough, this wouldn’t be bothering you. It should be water right off your back.”
My eyes automatically narrowed into two little slits. He took his eyes off the road and smiled when he saw them. Not the response I was going for.