11. Drew: Is this a Real Date?

Chapter eleven

Drew – Is this a Real Date?

The next day, I find Meg during her lunch break, apparently jonesing for a change of scenery. She seems to have something on her mind with that faraway look on her face, but I keep this thought to myself for now.

She offers to show me the best place to get homemade ice cream and I jump at the chance. Back home I rarely eat anything so decadent.

"I just don't get it," I say, as we sit outside the Ira's Ice Cream Parlor. We have the only table with an umbrella, so we've got a bit of shade.

"How can people be so happy in a small town full-time? Not to sound like a big city snob, but I think I would lose my mind. There's really nothing to do here."

"There's plenty to do here," Meg corrects me. "What can you do in back home that you can't do here?"

"Go to Starbucks, for one thing," I say, pointing out that the town only has one café.

"Yes, but you get the same cup of coffee for half the price and you know it won't be burnt," Meg replies. "What else?"

"Restaurants are limited."

Meg is on a roll and she quickly retorts: "How many do you need? We have pub food, an Italian place, you have to drive a bit further out if you want tacos or Asia food, but it's worth the trip."

"There's nothing to do outside of the beach and a few shops," I continue. "Yes, they're family owned and that's great and all, but doesn't it get boring sometimes?"

"Okay, sometimes, yes," Meg concedes. "Sometimes you have to make your own fun. A small town means people come together to put on events that everyone likes."

"Like what?" I challenge. She can hear the disbelief in my voice, I'm sure. Okay, I AM, in fact, a city snob.

"The Summer Festival this weekend," she responds proudly. "It happens every year and it's loads of fun."

As we eat our ice cream, she fills me in on the carnival-themed games with prizes of plushies and bragging rights. There are rides for everyone from the adrenaline junkies who aren't afraid of heights to those who prefer to stay firmly on the ground spinning in a blur of teacups.

The children run around with glitter animals and superheroes painted on their happy faces and cotton candy or popcorn in hand, as they race to the next ride.

"Oh, and there are fortunetellers," she adds. "You believe in that stuff? I think life is what we make it and if someone says we should be aware of certain things, then it can't really hurt," she shrugs. "I've never been told something absurd, like I'm going to marry a rich man on a white steed, or anything like that. It's mainly vague suggestions that can fit anyone. It's just fun."

When I look at her with skeptical eyes, I think she's embarrassed at what she just said. She's fiddling with her clothes and hair and looking everywhere but at me.

"It sounds like you really enjoy it." I can't help but enjoy her squirming around in her chair, so I want to see what's next. "Are you planning on going?"

"I was thinking about it," she admits quietly, watching me contemplate the idea. "You've been to Rome, right?"

"More than once," I nod, wondering what that has to do with our current conversation.

But then she adds: "What's that famous quote that the Romans say? When in Rome…"

"Do as the Romans do." I grin, now catching her point.

"As someone who hasn't lived in a small town, you have pretty big opinions about them without properly exploring them," Meg challenges, finishing her ice cream. "Interesting."

"It seems that I might be missing the mark then?" I grin. "Would it be okay if I accompany you to this infamous festival?"

Her prolonged quiet just endears me to her even more. Then she finally answers.

"I suppose."