Sam hated Candytopia as much as I’d expected, but, the iron-clad provisions of our yes date agreement required he be completely game for whatever activity I proposed. I, on the other hand, loved Candytopia. I loved everything, from the Wonka-esque gates that welcome visitors to the dreamy gallery where all the art was made from candy and all the exhibits were edible. When we arrived at the pool of marshmallows you could jump into and swim around in, Sam stopped dead in his tracks. When I suggested we take a “dip” he looked at me like I was absolutely insane.
“Do you know how many kids have had their mouths on those marshmallows?” he asked.
I sat down to untie my shoes and patted the ground beside me. “The sign says no shoes.”
“You’re really going to make me go in there?”
I stopped untying my shoe and looked up at him. “Samuel Calver, are you going to force me to recite the formally agreed upon stipulations of the yes date contract?”
He motioned for me to go ahead. I cleared my throat and started, “Clause One states, the planner of the yes date may request any activity whereas the attendee must comply with all said requests. Heretofore, the attendee is under strict obligation to participate in all said activities and do so with a smile on his or her face. Clause Two stipulates the word ‘yes’ is the only acceptable response to any question asked on the aforementioned date.”
“Heretofore? Aforementioned?” He rolled his eyes, took off his coat, and sat down on the ground to slip off his loafers. “I am only doing this because I love you.”
I got up from the ground and pulled my socks up over my ankles. “That’s a good enough reason for me. Ready?”
He mumbled something vaguely resembling the word sure.
I crossed my arms over my chest and threw him my most winning smile. “Sam. Yes date. Are you ready?”
“Yes!” he yelled and hurled his body into the pool. He emerged from under a pile of marshmallows with a huge grin on his face. “What are you waiting for, Jo? Water’s great!”
I opened my arms and pushed off the edge, sinking into the tank. Sam was there, waiting to catch me.
“See, is this so terrible?” I asked.
“I can definitely check swimming in a pool of marshmallows off my bucket list now.”
“I didn’t know it was on your bucket list.”
“I have to have a few secrets, right? So, what’s next on the hit parade? Scuba diving in Jell-O?”
“I have a feeling the next activity will be a little more your speed.”
His smile gave way to a sexy grin. “Either way, what choice do I really have?”
“Well, look at that, someone is finally getting the concept of the yes date.”
We pretended to do different swimming strokes in the pool, both of us finally landing on our backs, floating atop the airy marshmallow pillows.
I turned to him. “You know what we need? Some chocolate and graham crackers.”
He pulled me close and kissed me hard. A few minutes later a dozen or so toddlers, all guests at the same birthday party, came sprinting toward the pool.
Sam stood up and wrestled his way over to the ladder. “Come on, kid, what do you say we get out of here before we’re wading through a pond of marshmallow fluff.”
I nodded and followed him out of the pool, where he pretended to towel off. I loved the more playful side of Sam. I didn’t know if it was the pressures that came along with his job or a general maturing, but in the last few years he’d lost a little of his silliness and spontaneity. Lately, it seemed he was more into keeping up with the Joneses, or in his case, the associates and partners of his firm.
Sam grew up in Moreno County, California, about an hour outside Orange County. His good grades and musical talent got him a full scholarship to our high school. Sam’s dad was a mechanic, who owned a small garage, and his mother was a preschool teacher. While he loved and respected his parents, it wasn’t hard to see he was impressed with the big houses and even bigger wallets of our classmates.
I remembered the first time he came to pick me up for a date. He borrowed his dad’s prized possession, an electric blue 1964 Mustang convertible he’d practically built from the ground up. My father was one of the top plastic surgeons in Orange County, and we lived in a beautiful home with expansive ocean views that spanned all the way to Palos Verdes. I waited for Sam on the paved circular driveway, hoping I could help him avoid an awkward first meeting with my parents. The minute he pulled up, I could see his entire demeanor change. He must’ve assumed I was well off, since most of the kids at Oakridge Prep were, but now he knew for certain.
My father came out of the house to meet Sam, who immediately started rattling off a list of academic accomplishments and life goals. He told my father all about his scholarship to Columbia and plans to work in finance after he graduated, but none of that mattered to me. Sam didn’t just have good grades, he was also editor of the school’s newspaper, president of the student council, and drum major of the marching band. He was that guy. The guy every girl wanted to be with, and he liked me.
Maybe because of how I grew up, Sam felt he had to impress me with things like a big engagement ring and an apartment in Tribeca. No matter how many times I told him I didn’t care about materialistic things, he didn’t believe me. Even our wedding was slightly more his speed than mine. After touring dozens of places, we settled on The Pierre Hotel.
The Pierre was a beautiful venue but not quite what I had in mind. Growing up, I couldn’t imagine a more perfect place to get married than my very own backyard. Our house sat on the highest point of Crystal Cove enclave in Newport Coast with breathtaking views of the Pacific Ocean and SoCal Mountains. The house and gardens were my mother’s pride and joy. She spent hours clipping hedges and tending to the roses, and I just knew that was where I would eventually say ‘I do.’ But that dream was one that would never come true. My father couldn’t bear to be in the big, empty house without her. He put it on the market less than six months after she died and moved to a small condo in Marina Del Rey.
After Candytopia, we headed back home to freshen up and change for drinks at the Carlyle Hotel. I left Sam for an hour to go get a blowout at the Drybar across the street from our apartment. With working out at Benji’s Boot Camp almost every morning, I couldn’t be bothered to style my hair and had been pulling it into a simple ponytail after showering. Lately, it seemed Sam was either seeing me in workout clothes heading out to the gym in the morning or in pajamas asleep, after he got in from work late at night. Tonight, I wanted to step it up a notch.
Last week, I had spotted a little black sequined cocktail dress in the window of a boutique on Prince Street. It was short, super fitted, and glittery from head to toe. Even after living in the city for close to a decade, my style was still more California than Manhattan. I preferred loose, button-down shirts, peasanty tunics, sundresses, and ripped jeans. This dress was a serious departure from my usual look. It took two salespeople and a random shopper to convince me to put it on, but once I did, I knew I had to have the dress for our yes date.
I finished putting on my makeup in the bathroom and changed into the dress. When I came out, Sam was lying across the bed, checking his work email on his phone. I cleared my throat a few times to get his attention.
“One sec, Jo, let me send out this one…last…thing. Okay, done. I’m all yours.” He lifted his eyes from the phone, and they practically fell out of his head. He sat upright. “You look sensational. What’s this dress?”
I spun around. “I got it for tonight. You like?”
He stood up. “I love.”
I handed him his coat from the dresser. “Ready for the second half of the yes date?”
“I don’t know how you’re going to top a pool made entirely of marshmallows, but I’m game to see you try.”