Gaol. My mind races. I have so many questions to ask, but where to start? I’m dying to know some specifics, though I’ll sidestep the most obvious question: “Do you remember when we were in love?” After all, that would make for some strained conversation with Gabriel around.
“Did you pick it because of an interest in ancient Egypt?” I ask hopefully, disdainfully.
“Nah, I bought it because it seemed badass. Although, to be honest, at first glance I thought it was a gladiator’s costume.”
My newfound Egyptomania makes it hard for me to fathom this mortifying admission.
“I mean, I think ancient Egypt seems interesting enough, though I don’t know that much about it. But I’ll bet Gabe does,” says C. J.
“As an archaeology major, everyone expects me to be obsessed with the subject, but for some reason the era leaves me cold,” confesses Gabriel.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. What time period are you into then?” I ask, curious.
“The Viking invasion of Britain,” he announces, as though it’s something to brag about.
There’s no way to fully hide my disappointment. But I swallow it. “It’s like I don’t know you at all,” I say, and Gabriel chuckles.
“Wait a minute. You don’t find the Vikings fascinating?” he demands.
“Meh,” I reply with a shrug.
“Have you ever heard of the Maine penny? It’s also known as the Goddard coin. It was found at a Native American burial site in Penobscot Bay. There’s a lot of controversy surrounding it, but assuming it’s legit, that means the Vikings came to the coast of Maine! For all we know, they could have been right here — in this very spot!”
Gabriel grows moony imagining that scenario. It doesn’t seem quite as romantic to me, seeing as I’ve virtually traveled to ancient Egypt, which is far superior.
“Tell me more,” C. J. says mockingly.
“Give it time. You’ll catch Viking fever, Annabeth. It’s contagious.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I was vaccinated against that,” I say flippantly.
Gabriel takes my gloved hand, easing his fingers into the spaces between my own. Instead of luxuriating in the moment as I would’ve done earlier, I watch C. J.’s face, searching for a response. But there is none. At least, not one that’s discernible.
“Only two dates in, and we’re already at an impasse,” Gabriel says as he leads me to my house.
“Well, thanks for walking me,” I drone as I drop Gabriel’s hand like a hot potato.
I move to undo the rusty latch to the front gate. Situations like this are always a little awkward with a third wheel around. But it heightens considerably when said third wheel — the one who is not my date — is my first love.
Was my first love.
“You live here?” C. J. asks quizzically.
“Yep. This dump is mine,” I say, hoping that owning the obvious will make it less embarrassing.
“No, I mean…We’re home too,” C. J. responds.
“Huh? Are you going to live with me? Because you’ll have to share a room with my brother. And he’s a mouth breather.”
“Not exactly. Our family just moved in there. Today.”
C. J. points to the slightly asymmetrical house next door. It’s a tall brick number with emerald - green shutters. A house I’ve been inside a million times since my childhood, some years more often than others, depending on how well my parents got to know the cavalcade of neighbors who’ve marched through.
“Are you serious?”
“I was going to tell you tonight. I wanted it to be a surprise,” says Gabriel, looking irritated that his brother beat him to it. “Our parents are the ones who bought it. They just closed the other day.”
I sigh, unable to determine if this new development is catastrophically bad or fantastically good. It feels like a bit of both. Why can’t something be black or white for a change? All this gray is fatiguing me. I bet Gabriel would be impressed if I told him it made me experience ennui. I stole that word
“Did you pick it because of an interest in ancient Egypt?” I ask hopefully, disdainfully.
“Nah, I bought it because it seemed badass. Although, to be honest, at first glance I thought it was a gladiator’s costume.”
My newfound Egyptomania makes it hard for me to fathom this mortifying admission.
“I mean, I think ancient Egypt seems interesting enough, though I don’t know that much about it. But I’ll bet Gabe does,” says C. J.
“As an archaeology major, everyone expects me to be obsessed with the subject, but for some reason the era leaves me cold,” confesses Gabriel.
“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. What time period are you into then?” I ask, curious.
“The Viking invasion of Britain,” he announces, as though it’s something to brag about.
There’s no way to fully hide my disappointment. But I swallow it. “It’s like I don’t know you at all,” I say, and Gabriel chuckles.
“Wait a minute. You don’t find the Vikings fascinating?” he demands.
“Meh,” I reply with a shrug.
“Have you ever heard of the Maine penny? It’s also known as the Goddard coin. It was found at a Native American burial site in Penobscot Bay. There’s a lot of controversy surrounding it, but assuming it’s legit, that means the Vikings came to the coast of Maine! For all we know, they could have been right here — in this very spot!”
Gabriel grows moony imagining that scenario. It doesn’t seem quite as romantic to me, seeing as I’ve virtually traveled to ancient Egypt, which is far superior.
“Tell me more,” C. J. says mockingly.
“Give it time. You’ll catch Viking fever, Annabeth. It’s contagious.”
“Really? Because I’m pretty sure I was vaccinated against that,” I say flippantly.
Gabriel takes my gloved hand, easing his fingers into the spaces between my own. Instead of luxuriating in the moment as I would’ve done earlier, I watch C. J.’s face, searching for a response. But there is none. At least, not one that’s discernible.
“Only two dates in, and we’re already at an impasse,” Gabriel says as he leads me to my house.
“Well, thanks for walking me,” I drone as I drop Gabriel’s hand like a hot potato.
I move to undo the rusty latch to the front gate. Situations like this are always a little awkward with a third wheel around. But it heightens considerably when said third wheel — the one who is not my date — is my first love.
Was my first love.
“You live here?” C. J. asks quizzically.
“Yep. This dump is mine,” I say, hoping that owning the obvious will make it less embarrassing.
“No, I mean…We’re home too,” C. J. responds.
“Huh? Are you going to live with me? Because you’ll have to share a room with my brother. And he’s a mouth breather.”
“Not exactly. Our family just moved in there. Today.”
C. J. points to the slightly asymmetrical house next door. It’s a tall brick number with emerald - green shutters. A house I’ve been inside a million times since my childhood, some years more often than others, depending on how well my parents got to know the cavalcade of neighbors who’ve marched through.
“Are you serious?”
“I was going to tell you tonight. I wanted it to be a surprise,” says Gabriel, looking irritated that his brother beat him to it. “Our parents are the ones who bought it. They just closed the other day.”
I sigh, unable to determine if this new development is catastrophically bad or fantastically good. It feels like a bit of both. Why can’t something be black or white for a change? All this gray is fatiguing me. I bet Gabriel would be impressed if I told him it made me experience ennui. I stole that word
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