know you too well, Stacy. Don’t lie to me.”
Trying to change the subject, I smiled and asked, “So where are you taking your date, or should I say – where the heck are you taking me for this practice date?”
I could tell he didn’t want to drop the subject, he wanted me to confess my pain and sorrow – like a best friend would. I just couldn’t. I knew it was for the best and I could live with what happened.
“Squirt, don’t change the subject,” he finally said, looking through his rearview mirror. He flipped on his directional and proceeded to edge his car into the next lane toward an exit ramp.
“I’m not lying,” I continued to lie – please God don’t strike me dead, they’re only little white lies.
He closed his eyes for a second and shook his head displeased. “When you’re upset, I’m upset.”
A pang of guilt swept through me. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. What are best friends for?”
Another awkward silence settled between us. I folded my arms across my chest and leaned back into the seat. The seatbelt practically cut into my neck, obviously not designed for short passengers. With my free hand I pulled it down into the folds of my arms and stared aimlessly out the window.
Buildings of all shapes and sizes passed by like a blur, still covered in late winter’s snow. It was almost Spring, but cool enough to keep the snow from melting. I had absolutely no idea where we were going. None of the area surrounding us appeared familiar at all.
“Are you going to keep your date in the dark the entire time, also?” I finally asked.
He didn’t answer.
“’Cause, well, it’s kind of creepy not knowing where you’re going with someone you’re just going on a first date with.”
“Don’t girls like surprises?” he asked, still staring forward. Unrelenting.
I rolled my eyes. “Well yeah, but come on – give me the benefit of the doubt here. Imagine you were in her shoes. Some kid she didn’t know too well asked her out, and then doesn’t tell her where they’re going. Kind of weird, isn’t it?”
“Who said she didn’t know me?” he shot back.
I sighed rather overdramatically. “Well, I still don’t even know who the heck she is! I can only assume ‘cause you’re not being forthcoming.”
He laughed, obviously pleased with his little – rather big – secret. “You’ll see.”
“I’ll see what? Are you going to get even creepier and put a blindfold on me before we walk in or something?”
He feigned a look of hurt. “I didn’t know you thought of me like that, Squirt. Should I join some kind of psycho kidnapper cult or something?”
“Quit joking and just cough it up already. This is your idea and so far it’s been pretty sweet and genuine – except your lack of conversation skills.” I thought about that for a second. “Then again, for a first date you’re both a bundle of nerves so there are a lot of awkward pauses.”
He flipped on his directional again and I saw that we were turning into a parking lot behind what looked like an old theater. He didn’t say a word, but kept a smile plastered on his face. He unbuckled his seatbelt, turned off the ignition and opened his car door. “I’ll get your door,” he said smoothly, before shutting his door and walking around the front of the car.
I smoothed the front of my shirt and waited. Fine, I’ll just go along for the ride.
He opened my door, offered me his arm for guidance and helped me up.
“I’m pretty amazed, Keith. You’ve never done that before.”
He didn’t say anything, instead he led me to the front of the theater and just as we were about to see the sign of what was playing, he stopped me and placed his hands upon my shoulders. “Don’t squeal, ok!” he stated.
“Squeal?” I asked, trying to look beyond him but he deflected my view.
“I got us tickets to see a play you’ve been dying to see– can you handle it?”
I could feel the excitement tingle through my body – did he just say he bought me a ticket to my favorite play?
I nodded, trying not to show my excitement.
He looked me square in the eyes and slowly pulled away from me, revealing the marquee which proudly announced …
“Oh – my – God!” I breathed, nearly fainting.
“You said you wouldn’t squeal,” he warned. He pulled out two tickets from his jacket pocket and handed me one of them.
The tears in my eyes blinded my vision. I was overwhelmed with emotion. I couldn’t read anything other than, “Andrew Lloyd Webber presents The Phantom of the…”
“How? How did you do this?” I asked, completely shocked.
A devilish grin, showing teeth and all, spread across his face. “I cannot share my tricks, it’d ruin my charm.”
I laughed. Never, in the years that I’ve known him, has he done something like this for me. I mean, he’s acknowledged my birthday and holidays with a homemade card and some kind of trinket, but theater tickets to my favorite play – make that, expensive theater tickets in the city!? I was completely bowled over.
“But…but, seriously, Keith! Do you realize how much you’re going to be spending on this first date, not just on your actual date – but just in practicing for it?”
I couldn’t forget that we weren’t on the actual date together; I was only there to help him get through it, so that he could do it for real with his new girlfriend.
“I already told you not to worry about it, you’re helping me. Remember?”
I nodded slowly. Feeling another rush of emotion flow through me, I jumped up and threw my arms around his neck. “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” I breathed in his ear.
He laughed again and pulled away. “You’re very welcome, Squirt. Now let go, you’re giving me a backache.”
We separated and I hopped up and down with pure excitement.
"We're going to see The Phantom!" I squealed.
The rest of the evening went by like a whirlwind. After the play he drove us to a nearby park where we talked about what we wanted to do for summer and what we wanted to do after school.
We sat side-by-side, popping bits of cotton candy into our mouths and giggled as the sugar melted upon hitting our tongues. It was chilly, but it was fun to see the staunch faces of the people who passed by. We’d point someone out and try to figure out what was going on in that person’s life.
“I’m going to guess, mid-30’s, spinster and has ten cats,” Keith guessed as a heavy-set woman with graying hair came bounding past us.
“What about that one?” I asked, pointing to a pretty brunette in a tight-fitted black dress and silver heels. Her slough eyes stared down at the concrete as she walked, hands stuffed in her black leather trench coat, and a forlorn expression wrinkled her delicate face. She continued her slow pace, oblivious of the people that bustled past her. Keith sucked in his bottom lip and squinted hard. “Hmm … she’s a hard one.”
I stuffed another tuft of pink cotton candy in my mouth and revealed in the sweet, syrupy, cherry taste as it slid down my throat. I can’t even tell you how long it had been since I had cotton candy – it had to be well over ten years.
“Come on, you’re good at this,” I finally said. I had an idea, but I didn’t want to share it until I heard his.
“I bet,” he paused as he licked some loose cotton candy from his thumb and forefinger. “I bet she’s sad.”
I rolled my eyes. “Well, duh, Sherlock. How’d you guess that one?”
“It’s elementary my dear, Watson, elementary.” He pretended to smoke on a pipe and blew out a puff of warm air before he continued, “Her eyes, they stare to the ground suggesting she doesn’t wish to look up. What does one do when they’re sad? They look down.”
I pretended to be sad and slid the tips of my index fingers down my face from the corners of my eyes as though I were crying. “That’s so sad.”
“What?” Keith quipped. “So sad, that she’s sad?”
I sm
iled. “Of course. Don’t you get sad when someone else is sad around you?”
He looked away, staring off into the distance, avoiding my gaze.
“Well…”
He finally looked at me. His blue eyes locked on mine and a serious expression settled on his face. “Of course I do.”
“Well, there you go.”
He took in a breath and pulled the sleeve of his jacket up so that he could glance down at his watch. “Oh!” he said startled, sitting up from his slouched position.
“Oh?” I asked, sitting up as he had done.
He flashed me another one of his devilish smiles. “You ready?”
“Ready for what?”
“Like I’m going to tell you.” He laughed.
Before I could object, he pulled me up from our perch by my hands, stuffed the remaining cloud of cotton candy into a nearby garbage can and slipped his arm through mine.
The way he did it reminded me of one of my favorite childhood movies, The Wizard of Oz. I couldn’t help but hum the tune as we walked down the path, practically brushing past the forlorn woman in her trench coat.
“You hungry,” he finally asked as we headed back toward his car.
“Eh, I’m ok.”
He looked down at his watch again.
“Why do you keep doing that?” I asked when he opened his car door for me.
“Keep doing what?”
I pointed to his watch and saw his face become crimson. “Oh, that? I’m just checking to make sure we have time.”
“Time? Time for what? What else have you got plotted for this evening?”
He closed my door and didn’t answer me. Once again I watched him from the rearview mirror as he walked behind the car to his door.