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I told him jokingly that nothing less than a tour of the Eastern Sea Cost would do. He looked at me, getting serious, and told me that he would like nothing better. I asked him if he was serious, and he answered that he still had three weeks left, and nothing better to do. He was at my disposal.I quickly changed the topic, telling him that his first task would be to get me something to eat, as I was starving. He laughed, and we got dressed, packed up, and left the hotel. We found a greasy spoon on our way to the interstate, ate a quick meal, and made our way to Boston. I had several hours to mull over in my mind all that had taken place. I had given myself to him with no reservation. Afterwards, I felt no guilt. What did that mean? Deep inside, I knew. When we arrived in Boston, I directed Jean-Marc to the marina. I asked him if he would wait for me. He looked puzzled, expecting to have dropped me off, never to see me again. I asked him if he wanted to see me again. We locked eyes,. I didn't fall in, but I was the center of attention of everyone around. Anyone who missed what had happened was told (loudly by the boy who had spotted us) how I lost my balance trying to kiss Patrice. So much for discretion. I also knew Bill would hear about it and we'd get a talking to about doing that in public, not to mention almost overturning the canoes and endangering campers.In an attempt to maintain a little dignity, Patrice held up her paddle with one hand, pointed to mine with her other hand, and sternly said, "Concentrate on your paddling, Tim."She couldn't maintain the false seriousness. She busted out laughing all over again and I ended up joining in. Before long, everyone had a laugh at my expense. I didn't hear the others, though. I was listening only to the sound of Patrice's laugh.I never tried that trick again. I was sure we were both being watched very closely. Later in the afternoon, Bill pulled his canoe to the shore at a clearing under some trees. I looked.
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