Stalling for time, I said, "So, are you home for the weekend or something?" Quickly, I added, "I mean, I heard about your wrestling scholarship. Congratulations, by the way."
His face split into a huge, happy grin. "You knew about that?"
"Yeah." I tried to smile back. "You, uh, sent me the news clipping. Remember?"
He was nodding now. "Yeah. But, I wasn't sure you got it." His smile faltered. "I mean, you never called or anything. You saw the number, right?"
His phone number? Oh, I'd seen it, alright. It would've been hard to miss, considering that he'd scrawled it across the article in big red letters, along with a personal note that may – or may not – have been a joke.
If you want to wrestle, give me a call.
Even years later, I didn't quite know what to say. Going with the less-is-more approach, I managed to mumble, "Well, I was seeing someone, so…" I let the sentence trail off, hoping he wouldn't ask for details.
"Oh yeah?" he said. "Who?"
I gave a nervous laugh. "That was, wow, how many years ago? Three? Who can remember that far back, right?"
"Uh, yeah. Right." His eyes brightened. "So, how about now?" He leaned further out the window. "Are youstillseeing someone?"
Oh, crap.I wasn't, actually, but I hated the thought of saying so. I made a vague gesture with my hand and said, "Oh, you know how that goes."
But from the look on his face, he didn't. His eyebrows furrowed, and he squinted through the darkness, as if searching for something in particular. But what?
My car? My boyfriend? My sanity?
He could squint all he wanted, but if he sawanyof those things, he'd be hallucinating, bigtime.
Suddenly, his gaze popped back to me, and he said, "Hey Mel."
"What?"
His voice boomed across the short distance. "Happy Birthday!"
Startled, I stumbled backward. "Uh, thanks. How'd you know?"
"Like I could forget." He grinned. "It was our first date, remember?"
Technically, it hadn't been a date. It had been one dance, literally, meaning one song.
There hadn't been a second dance, much less a second date. It's not that I didn't like him, even then. It's just that when, after one dance, someone shows up on your doorstep, uninvited, wearing a T-shirt with your picture on it, things tend to get a little weird.
Chester laughed. "Man, that was a crazy night, huh? You know, Istillhave that shirt?"
"Uh, really?"
"Yeah. Check it out." And then, to my infinite horror, he reached into the glove compartment and pulled out a blob of white cotton. He shook out the fabric, and there it was, an image of my own smiling face, taken from my junior yearbook photo.
Well, that wasn't creepy or anything.
I took another step backward, even as I managed to choke out, "Oh. You, uh, kept that, huh?"
"What? You think I'd throw it out." He was still grinning. "It still fits, too." Abruptly, he retreated back into the truck and called out, "Don't move. I'll put it on."
Oh, no.That Army-Ant feeling was back with a vengeance, prickling my skin and making me feel just a little bit twitchy.
Seeking some space, I glanced around. If I backed up any further, I'd be dipping my heels in ditch water. Suddenly, that wasn't sounding so bad. The water wasn'tthatdeep. Was it?
I was still pondering that when a second vehicle roared out of the darkness and squealed to a stop directly in front of the pickup. Thanks to the pickup's headlights, I could see the new vehicle as clear as day.
