Love’s Border is a Cornfield?

(Note to the reader: this story continues where “One Person’s Trash” left off. To read the first story about Emma and Gus, click here.)

Yes, I, Emma does-most-things-right, invited a total stranger I met at the Waitsfield dump to come over for dinner. Yes, I was probably nuts. But, there, one day later, was Gus. On time, carrying a nice bottle of red wine and a bouquet of sunflowers. He had clearly made an effort, smelling of pine soap, clean-shaven, and a shirt that looked brand new.

I invited him in. We laughed about our dump meeting, opened the wine he brought, and made a pretense of looking for more giant pencils in my closets. 

“I only came for the promise of pencils, you know,” he said. 

“I bet you use that line with all the girls,” I said.

“Yup. All the girls with giant pencils at a dump,” he said with a smile.

“Transfer station,” I said. “I mean, I rarely pick up guys at the dump.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” he smiled and his eyes crinkled.

For a first date, it went really fast. That led to more dates, some dinners, a hike up Mad River Glen and our first kiss standing near the top of the single chair lift, the magnificence of the valley floor below us. He met Cassie and a few of my other close friends and they pronounced him a huge upgrade over former boyfriend Ty. I met his brother Matt, who worked at the IT company with him; I impressed him with my Marvel universe knowledge. Gus and I were becoming a couple. 

So as the date for my sister’s long-planned engagement party approached, I thought it might be a good way for him to meet my extended family. “Are you OK if I bring a date to your party?” I asked my sister over the phone. 

“Is he better than Ty?” she asked.

“How come no one told me how much they hated him while I was dating him?” I answered.

“I distinctly remember telling you to dump him,” she said.

I thought back on it. She might have actually said that. It would be like her. Blunt honesty was her go to. “OK, well Gus is WAY better than Ty. You’ll like him.”

“Fine,” she said. “But he can’t be in any family photos. I don’t want to have to Photoshop him out,” she said.

I sighed. “Your party, your rules.”

When I asked Gus if he wanted to join me, he was reluctant. 

“It’s only a few hours’ drive north in Sabrevois, over the Canadian border in Quebec province. We can make an adventure out of it. Stop along the way,” I said.

“I don’t know, Emma. This seems like a family thing.”

“It is,” I agreed. “But, it would mean a lot to me if you would join me.”

He capitulated. I smiled. We kissed. 

So, on the designated Friday afternoon, we packed my little Honda and headed north. The early fall weather was gorgeous, the sun shining, the birds singing. We held hands in the car and sang along to the radio. The farther north we drove, the more vibrant the orange, yellow and red leaves became. 

As we neared the border crossing with its two guard stations barely big enough for the customs agents and cornfields surrounding us on both sides, I noticed there were no extra buildings, not even a restroom or visitor’s center with vending machines and pamphlets. I smiled. No line at all. We could breeze right over. 

I checked my watch. We were cutting it a little close with all our stops, but it was only 5PM. The party didn’t start until 6PM and the place was less than 30 minutes away. We could shower quick. And I wouldn’t have traded our day together just for more dressing time. 

I pulled up to the checkpoint and the guard window. “Passports. And where are you going?” he asked, no trace of welcome on his face.

I babbled on about the hotel and my sister’s engagement party as I dug in my purse and pulled out my navy blue passport book and handed it to the guard. He looked at my photo and back at me, and asked a few questions about transporting guns, weed or people, before typing a few things on his computer and handing it back. He looked past me to Gus. “And you, sir? Are you also American?”

“Yes. Let me get my passport.” He patted his back pocket. Then his shirt pocket. Then pulled his jacket out of the back seat and combed through the pockets. His breath quickened. 

“It’s probably in my suitcase,” he said. He opened the door and jogged to the back of the car and popped the trunk. The zipper on his suitcase raced down its track.

“Find it?” I asked.

“No. Shit. No.” His voice sounded defeated. “I think I left it on the countertop next to my Nalgene that I also forgot.”

“What? How is that possible?” I asked, my voice raising an octave.

“I know, I know.” 

I turned to the guard. “We’re only going overnight. Just for my sister’s engagement party. Gus is going to meet my family…”

The guard held up his hand. “No passport, no entry.”

“What do we do?”

“You may discuss your situation over there.” He pointed to a small parking lot on the US side of the border. 

“We’re only going for one night. I promise we will come back,” I pleaded.

He gave what I suspect was an “I’ve-seen-it-all-before-and-no” shrug and pointed to the lot again.

Gus got back into the car and I reversed it and pulled into the lot. “I am so sorry, Emma. I’m so stupid.”

Doubt snuck into my heart. “Did you do this on purpose? Just to get out of the party?” I asked.

Gus stared at me. He blinked slowly and frowned. “No,” finally came out of his mouth.

I wasn’t sure I believed him. 

We sat in silence for a few minutes, then the passenger door opened and Gus got out. 

“What are you doing now?” I asked. “Where are you going?”

“Go. You need to be there. You can’t miss your sister’s engagement celebration. This is my fault and I will figure it out,” he said. He slammed the door and walked around to the driver’s side. He leaned in my open window and kissed my lips quickly. “Go,” he said. “You need to go.” 

“But what are you going to do?” I looked at the clock in the car. “I don’t have time to drive you anywhere and then try the border again.”

“I’ll dust off my hitch-hiking skills,” he said. “There’s a town about ten miles back. We are civilization adjacent, not in the Sahara.” He kissed me again. “And look at the peace in these cornfields. Maybe I’ll just lay down, wait for nighttime and stargaze for a while.”

He tapped the roof of my car twice and turned his back on my car. I watched his figure blend into the setting sun. 

My cell phone pinged with a text from my sister. Are you here yet?

I had to go. I hoped Gus would be fine. I typed back About 30 minutes out. 

***

I made it to the hotel just in time to change, run a comb through my hair and slash lipstick across my face. I hugged all the relatives, got a drink from the bar, teased my sister’s fiancee about joining the family, and had a smile plastered solidly on my face as the family photos started.

My sister stood next to me and furrowed her brow. “Wait, weren’t you bringing someone?”

“I was.”

“Didn’t work out already?”

There was no time for the entire story. The photographer was barking orders and moving us into positions. I felt a sting behind my eyes and a surge of anger. 

“Well, at least I don’t have to worry about him in the photos,” she said.

I wanted to pinch her arm the way I used to when we were little. Or muss her picture-worthy hairdo. But I sensed my mother looking at the two of us whispering and decided on the high road. “Maybe later, I will tell you where this wonderful guy is,” I hissed.

The party progressed without Gus. Photos were taken; the dinners were eaten; the toasts were given. My sister and her future husband looked happy, and I tried to be happy for them. I was the only one who missed Gus. The only one who even knew he wasn’t here. 

Hours later, as the party wound down, my cell phone buzzed in my pocket.

Made it all the way back to Burlington. Great story to tell. Staying here with friends for the night. 

I looked at the phone. He was safe. That was a relief. But he seemed to be enjoying his adventure a little too much. Where was the guilt? Had he even said he was sorry? The doubt roared back in. He was supposed to be here to meet my family. We were supposed to have our first night together. Should I be mad? 

On the other hand, he did get out of the car in the middle of a cornfield and figure out how to get home. He hadn’t whined. He’d figured it out. If it had been Ty, we’d still be arguing at the border crossing, or he would have convinced me to drive him home and I would have missed the party. So, Gus did the right thing, right? My head hurt.

I responded. Let’s do better next time?

Definitely. Good night.

I read the message a few times. I wanted more. That’s what it was. I wanted more. As I put the phone back in my purse, it buzzed again, and I pulled it back out to read Gus’ new message.

Sorry again. I wish I could have been there. I miss you.

OK, that was more. I smiled to myself. 

***

The next morning, over the requisite post-party next day brunch with my family, I had a chance to explain the missing Gus. My sister actually apologized for believing the worst about a man she’d never met just because I was dating him. Mom was impressed with his chivalry. Dad opened his phone map and tried to calculate how far Gus must have walked. Actually, it might have been the best way to meet the family after all. 

After brunch, we said our goodbyes, and I piled my bags into the car and headed toward Burlington to pick Gus up on the way home. How could I find a way to let him know I appreciated his action-oriented thoughtfulness?

As I stopped to fill up my gas tank, I saw the thank you gift. A glass jar near the register held a display of giant pencils. The icons covered all the regional highlights, a moose, a wheel of cheese, a bottle of wine, a natural stone bridge and ski mountains. Just what Gus would want.

I scooped the five pencils out of the holder and placed them on the counter.

“Vraiment?” the clerk looked at me. “All of these?”

“Yes, really,” I said. “Evidently, you can never have too many giant pencils.”