Meet Me at the Lake
: June 14, 1990

Peter’s helping me with my gardening project. Dad said I could plant ferns and begonias along the path to the cabins if I took care of them. We took a golf cart out today so I could show Peter where I want everything to go. I told him Eric and I agreed to be exclusive, and he almost drove us into a tree. He says Eric is conceited, shallow, and has nothing interesting to say. He says he’s not good enough for me. But considering Peter has said something similar about every one of my boyfriends since I was seventeen, it’s not exactly a surprise. I used to think it was because he’s five years older and sees me as a little sister. These days, I’m not sure.

Earlier this year, when Peter stayed the weekend with me in Ottawa, there was this moment. It was the night of my twenty-second birthday, and after everyone left, he started picking up empty plastic cups and told me to go to bed while he finished cleaning. I gave him a hug, and when I pulled back, he kept his arms around me. I swear he was going to kiss me. If I’m being honest, I was disappointed he didn’t. I thought I must have been imagining things. But now I don’t know.

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