Perfect Pairing (23 page)

Chapter Fifteen

“Cape Cod.” Quinn read the big green road sign as they turned onto Interstate 495. “We're going to Cape Cod?”

“That's the plan.”

“I thought you didn't have a plan?”

“Well, maybe not a plan so much as a hope,” Hal said, and she did feel hopeful. She and Quinn seemed to have entered a new space, a peaceful one that included all their fun, witty banter, only with much softer edges. “I'm allowed to hope, aren't I?”

“I should think so,” Quinn said, “but you set the bar pretty high last night.”

Hal smiled, satisfied with her work. “The event went well. And our afterparty went even better. And now I've got a pocket full of cash to show for our efforts.”

“I hope you took payment only for the first part of the evening and not for the show we gave the folks up on the balcony later.”

Hal laughed. They may have missed a good portion of the fireworks while they made out on the roof of the truck. Still, nothing crossed into the type of behavior people would pay to see. “We kept everything PG-13.”

“At least until we got into Natalie's guest room.”

“Well yeah, people would've paid a lot more to see that part.”

“I might be willing to pay a hefty price for a repeat,” Quinn said, reaching over and resting her hand on Hal's thigh. A myriad of images flashed through Hal's mind so vividly, she had a hard time seeing the road: Quinn naked on top of her, under her, pressed against her from behind. Not the type of things one wanted to think about while merging onto the Bourne Bridge.

“So, Cape Cod,” she said, her voice coming out a little strangled.

Quinn bit her lip as if trying to hold in a laugh, but she gave Hal's thigh a little squeeze before mercifully moving her hand. “Yes, tell me about Cape Cod.”

“Well,” Hal said, “it's expensive and busy this time of year, and not easy to get around. Be prepared for traffic.”

“You're a wonderful salesperson.”

“Just preparing you for what we'll have to go through in order for me to tell you it'll all be worth the trouble as soon as we roll into Provincetown.”

“Provincetown? That's like a pretty gay place, right?”

“It is, but not like San Francisco or the Village. It's not some city mecca. If you took the people off the street, you'd think you were in the middle of any little New England fishing village. It's cute and homey and overflowing with so much charm, you can hardly stand it.”

“Sounds lovely,” Quinn practically sighed.

“It is. Even on its own it'd be a nice spot to visit, but when you add the people, you inject a whole ‘nother layer of wonderfulness, and the Fourth of July weekend is one of the busiest of the whole year.”

“So it'll be crowded?”

“It will, and a huge portion of the crowd will be gay,” Hal explained gleefully. “Hundreds, maybe thousands, of gay men and lesbians owning the streets. Pretty streets, nice streets, friendly streets. Shops and restaurants will cater to us, straight families will move in and out of the groups, the minority for once, and they're generally just fine with that.”

“I can't imagine. I mean I've never had any trouble in Buffalo, but I've always been the minority. I've never been anywhere where queers outnumbered straight people. I've never even given any thought to that possibility.”

“Well now you can. We both agree Buffalo is amazing, but there are other amazing places out there, Quinn. You just have to give yourself the freedom to wander.”

Quinn didn't respond right away. Had Hal pushed too hard? She hadn't meant to be heavy-handed. She just wanted to make sure
Quinn saw what she saw in the world: the magic, the adventure, the beauty. Hal looked over, hoping to search her eyes, but Quinn had turned to stare out the window.

She was stunning there in profile, but she was equally gorgeous from every angle. Hal felt an increasingly familiar tightness in her chest. She wanted to take her hand, pull her close, make her feel the mix of emotions she felt. Mostly, though, she wanted to see her smile, a broad, genuine flash of effervescence. That desire was not convoluted like the others. It was pure and strong and sprung from someplace deep inside of her. Whatever intentions she'd still had for their trip, one in particular now stood out above all the others: she wanted to make Quinn happy.

“Once we get to Ptown, the schedule is all yours,” she offered.

“You don't have anything on the agenda?” Quinn asked.

“Not really,” she said, unwilling to reveal any of her most pressing goals. “Well, other than a lobster roll. Wait, excuse me, a lobstah roll.”

“Lobstah roll?” Quinn repeated the phrase with the classic Boston accent. “Why do I have a feeling I'm about to get another culinary lesson?”

“Nope,” Hal said. “No lesson. Lobstah rolls aren't something someone can talk about. They must be experienced.”

“Well then, I'd better experience one. That's what this trip is all about, right? New experiences?”

Hal thought for a moment before nodding slowly. The trip was becoming about so many things, some she'd intended and some that had caught her by surprise. But with everything she'd done and felt so far, she could say without a doubt that the last twenty-four hours had certainly been a new experience.

They strolled down Commercial Street, which Quinn had learned was the main thoroughfare of Provincetown despite the fact that it was barely one lane wide and clogged with tourists almost to the point of inaccessibility to cars. When Hal had wrestled Cheesy Does It into a jam-packed lot at the edge of town and said they'd be walking from
there, Quinn got nervous, but she shouldn't have. Apparently almost every place in the small fishing village turned gay Mecca was walkable, and the town was even easier on the eyes than on the feet.

The late afternoon sun cast a summer glow across everything, making even the most weathered Cape Cod cottage-turned-art gallery seem bright and inviting. Quinn wanted to look in them all, and maybe on this weekend of whims she actually might, but for now she couldn't imagine going inside anywhere. At least not when she could still get a peek of the shimmering azure waters of Provincetown Harbor. Surely no painting could accurately capture such a perfect scene, though she fully understood why a hundred years' worth of artists had tried.

“Hal, look at the boats,” she exclaimed as she caught another glimpse of the main wharf between a restaurant and a hat shop.

Hal smiled. “You like sailboats?”

“I guess I do.”

“You guess?”

“I know people sail them on the lake in Buffalo, but not anyone I know. I don't recall ever having given them any thought until right now. But they're so beautiful. It looks like the opening scene to some movie about someone throwing away their eighty-hour a week job to sail around the world.”

“And what about you?” Hal nudged. “Would you star in that movie?”

Quinn stopped walking. She hadn't really thought of this as anything more than a day in paradise. Had Hal? Is that why she'd brought her here? “I'm not ready to sail off into the sunset, if that's what you're asking.”

“I wouldn't dare,” Hal said, “but we could get a closer look at one of the boats. If you'd like?”

“Oh, I would,” Quinn said, forgetting her concerns about the thought. “Do you think they give rides?”

“Rides?” Hal asked.

“Like around the harbor?”

“I think they call them cruises, but yes, I'm sure they do. They also give whale-watching tours.”

“Whales?” Quinn said in wonder. “You don't see many of those in Buffalo.”

“No.” Hal laughed. “You sure don't.”

As they passed out of view of the harbor again, Quinn allowed herself to look around in other directions. There were actually a lot of things around Provincetown she'd never seen in Buffalo, like men clad in all leather sauntering alongside lesbians pushing twin toddlers in a double stroller. Street performers stomped out a rhythm while nearby someone tried to hand them a flyer for a women's oil wrestling contest. Hal reached out to accept, but Quinn shook her head.

“Hey, a girl can hope.”

“Hope,” Quinn repeated. They did seem to keep coming back to that theme today. She didn't generally believe in signs. She liked the practical, the concrete, the objective. But she had to admit, something about this place and its creative energy did make her wonder. If a little town thrust out into the Atlantic Ocean, vulnerable to the sea and surf, could find a way not only to survive, but to thrive, what else was out there for her? If Portuguese fishermen could strike a balance with radical queers and Cape Cod yuppies, what other crossroads could be built to bring people together? A place like this shouldn't have worked. The populations were too different, the location too remote, the infrastructure seemingly insufficient to support this many businesses. And yet here she stood, watching the most beautiful, happy, energetic crowd of people amble by.

“We're in no hurry,” Hal said. “Just let me know if you see anything you want to try.”

She scanned the stores around them: a bike rental place, a seafood restaurant—no, two of them—next to a leather goods dealer. So many interesting choices, but nothing in particular pulled at her chest until her eyes fell on two women walking toward them holding hands. They didn't look at all different from any of the other couples on the street, and that was exactly the point. Two women, totally wrapped up in each other, fingers interlocked right in the middle of a crowded walkway, and not at all out of place.

Quinn nodded toward them subtly. “I'd like to do that.”

Hal looked around, seeming to miss them completely. “What?”

Quinn reached out and took Hal's hand in hers, enjoying the sight of the different skin tones coming together as their fingers laced through one another's and held tight. When she looked up, Hal was watching her, the corners of her mouth quirking up slightly. “This.”

Quinn shrugged, suddenly aware of what she'd just done and the multitude of implications it might have. Still, instead of letting go she started walking again, this time more slowly, their bodies closer together. As they settled in, she relaxed. Hal's hand was soft, warm, comforting. She'd seen other people hold hands of course, but now she finally understood the appeal. “This is a new experience for me.”

“Me too,” Hal admitted.

“Really? You seem like the kind of person who would've held hands with a lot of girls.”

“Don't believe everything you read in
Spree
,” Hal said quickly, then added, “I guess I've just never let myself get close enough to someone to trust they wouldn't pull away from me.”

Quinn gasped. “Hal.”

“Hey, it's okay. My choice, mostly,” she said, then swallowed noticeably. “Don't get all sappy on me. It's your first time too. There must be a reason.”

“Fair enough.” She thought for a moment. “I guess I just never took the time to let myself want to. You may've noticed, when I set a goal, I can get a bit single-minded.”

“No. You?”

“Shocking, but yes. Holding hands on Commercial Street just wasn't in the five-year plan.”

“No, I guess not.” Hal seemed to think about that for a moment, her lips pursed slightly. “Funny, I never let anything go on too long, and you plan everything out so far you never let anything else get started. Now we're a couple of grown women who don't know how to hold hands the way a couple of teenagers could easily.”

“Oh, I wouldn't say we don't know how.” Quinn gave Hal's hand a little squeeze. “We seem to have figured it out. We must be fast learners.”

“We're brilliant really,” Hal agreed. “Hand-holding geniuses.”

The lightness of the moment overwhelmed Quinn, and she felt like she might actually be able to walk on air if not for her complete desire to keep both feet firmly planted in this moment for as long as possible.

They swung their arms lightly together as they reached the center of town and the entrance to MacMillan Wharf.

“Let's go out on the pier,” Hal suggested, and Quinn readily agreed. They turned down the wide, wooden walkway, and as they passed the last of the big buildings, they stepped right into the expansive harbor view she'd been seeking.

It was like walking into a painting. The water spread out around them on all sides, bold, blue, and glistening in the sun. Gulls called overhead, and hundreds of sailboats bobbed around the docks. In the distance, a stretch of land curled out around the harbor where a lighthouse rose tall and white from the sandy dunes.

“I've never seen anything like it.” Quinn just couldn't find enough effusive words to describe such a place. “It's just so mind-bogglingly pretty.”

Hal grinned proudly. “I'm so glad you get it. The first time I came here, I was eighteen and almost didn't leave. I ran into a man who said he'd been coming every summer for more than thirty years. He told me the place always called him back. I thought it might be the same for me.”