The next five days are utter torture as my mother continues to blame me for ruining “the best thing that ever happened in my life”, that is when she pauses long enough from her sobbing to speak to me.
I’ve since grown tired of running that day over in my head trying to figure out what really happened and where Stanley got the idea I didn’t want to see him again.
I even wonder if I suffered some kind of stroke or blacked out during the date and therefore can’t remember the events exactly as they happened.
Whatever went wrong, I resigned myself to the reality that my date with a man, last Saturday, was likely my first and my last.
I mean, what were the odds my mother was going to meet another friend with an available son my age? And I wasn’t really drawing 'em in on my own. So it was time to move on and get back to life pre-Stanley.
Walking into the kitchen on Wednesday evening, I noticed my mother on the phone. When she sees me she quickly ends her call and leaves the kitchen — likely a call with Florence to mull over what a horrible person I am, again.
Whatever. I’m the bad guy. I get it. I was over it at this point. I walk over to the kitchen counter and grab the roast chicken and sides I brought home from my shift a Bertson’s earlier that night and begin to lay everything on the table for dinner. I glance at the clock, and quicken my pace. I have a half hour to get us fed before my show comes on.
There’s a new Masterpiece Mystery on at eight and I’ve been looking forward to it all day; a bright spot in my now otherwise gloomy existence.
Just as I’m about to call my mother to sit down to eat, the phone rings, but before I can get to the receiver my mother pops around the corner and grabs it herself.
“Yes? Well, hello there.” I hear my mother saying super politely. “So nice to hear your voice. Yes, she’s right here, just hold on a moment.” my mother sings sweetly into the receiver then extends the phone in my direction with a smile.
I look at her confused.
“It’s Stanley” she whispers under her voice, then she covers the receiver with her hand and adds, “You be nice. You have no idea what it took his mother to get him to call you again.”
What? Stanley’s calling ME? I reach for the receiver as my hand begins to shake.
“Hello?” I squeak out in a whisper.
“Hello, Ruby? This is Stanley. How are you doing this evening?” How am I doing? He’s talking like we're old friends catching up on our day.
“Um, uh, fine?” I respond in a muffled tone.
“Good. So, I was wondering if you would like to go to a concert in the park this Saturday?” Stanley asks all politeness.
“I, uh, Saturday?” What the heck is going on?
Mother overhearing my hesitation chimes in loudly, “Saturday, hmm, you said you didn’t work this Saturday isn’t that right Ruby?” I look over at her and she has a look of pleading desperation in her eyes mixed with a scowl that I’ve come to know means business.
“Um, I ‘m not doing anything Saturday.” I respond in disbelief. “Okay, I’ll pick you up at two pm. good evening.`` Stanley responds in a rush.
“Okay”.
Silence.
“Hello?” The drone of the dial tone responds back to me. My brow furrows as I move to place the receiver back in it’s cradle.
“Well, there you go.” my mother sings, “Boy are you lucky he’s willing to give you another chance after what you pulled. Just don’t blow it this time. Appreciate what you have and make it work”. There’s a sharp edge to her last sentence.
What in the world is she talking about? Make it work? “I didn’t…” I begin to respond to her accusations then think better of it and kept my mouth shut.
Besides, deep down, I can’t help but feel elated. For once, my mother did something right. I don’t know how she did it, but whatever she did, I have a second date with Stanley — which means there’s still hope for me.
The next two days drag by, the way time does when you have something amazing coming up and each day feels like the distance grows further instead of closer.
I can barely contain myself at the thought of a second date with Stanley, even if I don’t understand the why or how.
However, in an effort to at least avoid another mishap— I decide to talk to Eveey for another perspective.
I tell her about our strange first date, over lunch at work the next day, and how after the date how Stanley tells his mother I didn’t want to see him again; even though I never said that. But then out of nowhere he calls and asks me out again.
After listening intently while Eveey munches her peanut butter and jelly sandwich, her daily staple, she pauses, then shrugs her shoulders and says, “Men are weird, don’t ask me to explain em.” Then she proceeds to talk about the new lime green nail polish that she was stocking in health and beauty aids this morning.
That’s Eveey. She was always so carefree and easy. Nothing seemed to phase her or even surprise her. Even after her grandmother died. It seemed like she never skipped a beat. She kept reporting to work business as usual with a skill on her face and a bounce in her step.
It’s like she was bullet proof. I didn’t understand how she did it, but I sure envied her tenacity.
In the spirit of the second date, Eveey suggested, I paint my nails, specifically with that new OPI shade of lime green.
After her talking her down we settled on a compromise. A pale shade of pink, but only if I let her paint a rose on my right index finger nail. I barely ever wore nail polish let alone artwork on my nails. Although the potential back lash from my mother scared me, I felt exhilarated by trying something new. Especially s one thing that made me more like Evvey. Eveey’s nails were currently bright orange with white and yellow daisies painted in the center of each nail.
She was really artistic, and her eclectic nails went perfectly with the rest of her look — which was a cross between 70’s hippy and 80’s neon.
We spent the rest of our lunch break flipping through a fashion magazine where Eveey found the perfect hairstyle for my date. It was down with braided sides held back with Bobby pins.
She was so confident it would be amazing on me, I couldn’t help but agree. Even if I knew I couldn’t come close to duplicating it on Saturday.
The remainder of my day flew by, with me sporting a big smile on my face, not just for my pending date, but because I really felt like my friendship with Eveey was growing closer. We usually just stuck to talking about what we saw on the BBC during our lunch break, but by sharing my date story with her today it really seemed to change things. Which meant I could end up with a boyfriend and a close girlfriend all at the same time.
Yes, hope was alive again and I couldn’t help but wonder what the future might hold, specifically where Stanley was concerned.
Whatever caused him to get the wrong idea about me during our first date was long forgotten. He was willing to give me a second chance and I wasn’t going to blow it.
Although the rest of the week continued to move at the pace of poured molasses, eventually Saturday arrived and I found myself sitting in Stanley’s car as he backed out of our driveway — yeap he picked me up this time.
I smiled and waved at my mother in response to her enthusiastic waving as Stanley pulled away — even my mother and my relationship had turned an amazing corner. Being around her over the last week was a delight.
Stanley and I spent the next hour walking through the park, stopping periodically to listen to a band play their version of “Smoke on the Water” or “Crazy” — depending on what part of the park we were in.
Stanley talked more about his job, his time at college, and his career goals. He seemed to loosen up a bit and the more he relaxed the more I found my breathing returned to normal and my stomach unclench.
At one point we decide to make our way over to a pond located in the center of the park, away from the heavier throngs of people, and so we could get a closer look at the ducks paddling around.
Stanley stepped off the cement walkway as he talked and onto the grass, then stopped in front of a dandelion turned and said in a laugh, “Those darn flowers are my nemesis. When I was a boy I was waiting to go to church on Sunday in my new dress pants and I was bored, so I wandered outside into the backyard. I saw a dandelion in the grass” Stanley paused and bent over and picked the dandelion holding it up for emphasis. “I bent down to take a closer look. I was curious if it smelled good, but I couldn’t smell a thing, so I got on my knees and pressed my nose against the dandelion and took a whiff. I remember the smell to this day, it was a kind of buttery sweetness. Anyway, I took a few more whiffs then stood up. That’s when I noticed my knees of my new pants were covered in grass stains. I started to rub them, desperately trying to remove the marks, when my mom called me to leave. So, I ran around the passenger side of her car and got in quickly placing my hands over my knees to try and cover the damage.”
“Mom didn’t say anything and I thought I was in the clear until she turned her head to back out of the driveway and her eyes stopped on my pants. Let’s just say this did not end in a peaceful Sunday for me.” Stanley finished with a nervous chuckle.
Then he looked up at me shyly as his cheeks flushed in embarrassment. “Too much information maybe?” he said with another nervous laugh.
My cheeks rose in a smile, happy that he shared such an intimate story with me, even though it wasn’t the best memory.
His story reminded me of a similar moment when I was young and before I could think it through I began to tell him my story.
“I had something similar happen when I was a child. I was trying to play hopscotch. If only I could find something to draw my game out on the sidewalk.
“ I remember how focused I was, all I had to do was find the perfect rock, one with an edge sharp enough for drawing, and I was good to go”.
“I walked on the curb in front of my house balancing on the edge while looking for rocks along the edge of the street” I walk along the edge of the grass demonstrating to Stanley what I mean.
“Then I spied the perfect rock. I was sure it was just like the one my cousin Lucy had used when she taught me this game at a family reunion the previous weekend. So I picked it up and scrambled across the lawn to the sidewalk in front of my house and bent down to draw.” I pause in my storytelling and look over at Stanley who was listening intently, so I continue.
“So I bent over and tested the rock by drawing a line on the sidewalk and it worked. I was so excited” I smile up at Stanley and he smiles back at me.
“I continued drawing until I had scratched out a perfect hopscotch court on the sidewalk. I was so proud of myself as I lined up at the beginning of the court, aimed my rock and threw.” I acted out throwing a rock and hopping forward for Stanley as I continued.
“I think I was just getting ready to aim for the sixth square, I was on one foot, trying to balance while throwing when my mother screamed my name causing me to lose my balance and fall hard onto the cement. The impact of the fall created a small tear in my jeans over the right knee” I pointed to my right knee for emphasis. “Boy was my mother mad when she saw it. That is until she noticed the hopscotch court drawn on the sidewalk. For a minute, I thought she’d might be impressed by the great job I’d done, but that wasn’t the case. She went from mad to furious. She said I ruined the sidewalk.” I feel my eyes start to well up from the memory.
“She said the neighbors would be really angry. I even think she said we might have to move? I look up at Stanly feeling my cheeks flush, as I realize I too now may have revealed too much. All I can think is, there goes another date with Stanley. I blew it. I look don again in shame, blinking my eyes to force the wetness to disipitate.
Why did I remember that day? I hadn’t thought about it in years. I mean what was the big deal, not like it was unusual for my mother to yell at me or be mad at me for something I’d done. But that day it hurt a little more for some reason.
I need to stop thinking about this before I ruin what's left of this date. Stanley hadn’t said a word since I finished my story leaving me to deduce it may already be too let. My hands began to tremble slightly at my sides, at the thought of what I’ve done. Then suddenly a warmth spread over my left hand and I look over in time to see Stanley’s hand cover mine.
I feel the gentleness of his fingers as they curve over mine. It so intimate I almost pull away, but instead, I just stand still mesmerized by the feeling.
Then I slowly bring my eyes up to meet Stanley’s, not knowing what will greet me only to see Stanley’s smile waiting to greet me. Then he says, “I get it.” That’s all. Just those three words.
It was all he needed to say. Because I knew he heard me and he understood. My heart began to beat loudly in my chest as I stood there looking at him a lump forming in my throat.
A teen-age boy ran past us and jumped up to catch a Frisbie a few feet away screaming out at his success jolting us from the moment. Stanley’s hand slips from mine as he takes a step forward back in the direction of the park.
The rest of the day was like a romance movie come to life. We ate hotdogs and ice cream and sat on the grass listening to different bands play.
We didn’t touch during the rest of our date, but it didn’t matter. That one moment was enough to carry me through the rest of my day — my life probably. All I could think as we headed home in his car was — Stanley understood me. I was no longer alone.
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