Milo decided that the only place we could talk about something so personal and convoluted was by the catering station. So, while these guys in white hats and chef jackets are preening over the hors d’oeuvres, Milo and I are having a heated discussion about romance, making out, and the appalling nature of humanity. As if they’re not even there.
“I don’t know what you think you saw, but—”
“Milo. I think you should stop lying right now. Just get it all out on the table.”
“No, but I’m—”
“Milo, I saw you, okay? With my very own eyes in my very own face. I saw you with your tongue down her throat and all the groping and all the slobbering. By the campus center. Slobbering by the campus center.”
A waiter comes and take a grand platter of bacon-wrapped figs with some sort of cream involved. I wish I had an appetite, because normally I would eat the daylights out of that platter.
Milo sighs. Looks at me.
I look longingly at the bacon-wrapped figs before turning back to him. He’s calculating, figuring out if he should just spill the beans.
“Okay, okay. You’re right.”
“Thank you.”
“I’m sorry, Willa. I’m really sorry if I bummed you out.”
“If you bummed me out? Are you serious right now?”
“Well, what’s the big deal? Seriously. We’re just friends.”
“Just friends?”
“Yes.”
“I don’t do that with my friends.” Or anyone, I add silently.
“Okay, fine, we’re friends with benefits. It’s really no big deal, okay? You’re the one I’m crazy about. Didn’t you hear my mom? Totally embarrassing me?”
“Well, it is a big deal to me. Where I come from that kind of . . . groping is strictly for not-friends or more-than-friends or whatever.”
“Okay, okay.” He holds up his hands. “Honestly, I think what we have here is a cultural difference. This is like . . . when people go to Japan and don’t understand the high-tech toilets.”
“Toilets?”
“The toilets in Tokyo are very confusing. They kind of look like spaceships.”
“Really?”
“Yes. It’s like a bidet and a toilet and a washer and a dryer all in a toilet. There’s even a noise to make it sound like running water for privacy. It’s actually kind of brilliant, but that’s not the point right now. The point is . . . this is a cultural difference between us. Where I come from . . . this is nothing. Because it is. Where you come from . . . this is something. So we just need to create some kind of understanding here, okay? A cultural bridge, if you will.”
“Milo, I’m sorry, but I—”
“No, listen. I’m serious. Willa. I really like you. Like, I really, really, really think about you all the time and even told my mom about you, which I never do, and even brought you to the island, which I also never do. Please don’t be mad at me. Remy was going on and on crying about some guy, and I just wanted to make her feel better.”
“So you groped her?”
“Look, she was crying and acting crazy. I didn’t know what else to do!”
“Well, are you just always gonna grope her when she’s crying?”
“No. I’m not. Listen. Now that I know it bothers you, definitely not. I will never grope Remy again. Or kiss her or anything. Consider this like an Iowa friendship. Totally G-rated.”
From across the room, Milo’s mother gives a quick little wave to Milo and me. It’s a sweet thing.
“Look, my mom already anointed you my girlfriend, and that’s just fine with me, because I want you to be. I want to bring you home for Thanksgiving and somewhere snowy for Christmas and we’ll sip hot chocolate, like on a mountaintop, and maybe even take you somewhere superglamorous and kind of hilarious for New Year’s. If you’ll let me. I want to show you all sorts of cool things and see the look on your face when you see them.”
“Like the toilets in Tokyo?”
“Yes, Willa. Even the toilets in Tokyo.”
And my head is spinning now. I thought we were breaking up tonight. I really did. I thought we were breaking up and that was it. But now we are doing the opposite of breaking up, which is sipping hot chocolate in Christmas chalets and observing the cultural difference in bathroom fixtures.
And I know I shouldn’t believe him. And I know his story is thin. But I want it to be true. I want all of this to be true. I want to be Milo Hesse’s girlfriend. I want everyone to know it and to shout it from the mountaintops from here to Zermatt to Nepal. It’s the opposite of being from Iowa.
And now, total honesty: it’s all I want to be.