Ascent

by M. C. Zappitello

  Will got out of the car, strode over to us, and stopped in front of me. "Paperwork complete?" he asked.

  "Paperwork complete," I responded.

  "So everything's official now?"

  "Yes."

  He picked me up―backpack and all―in an energetic hug. "Kiss me, graduate," he instructed. So I did. We beamed at each other for a few seconds before he put me down.

  "Maybe I will just take the bus home on Fridays, Cassie. You two are totally embarrassing," Melinda muttered as she ducked into the back seat.

  "What was that about?" Will asked as he opened the car door for me.

  I didn't answer immediately because I was distracted by what was on my seat. There was a flower―a dark red rose. I expected that. But it was lying on top of what looked like―oh, dear. It was. A cap and gown in silver, one of our high school colors. (It actually looked more like gray putty.) Complete with a tassel. I picked the pile up with both hands and, thoroughly puzzled, turned to Will.

  He looked rather sheepish. "The flower is from me," he explained. I figured that. He didn't seem inclined to continue, until I raised my eyebrows at him. "The rest is from Mark and Gina. They would appreciate it if you would put them on before we get to the house. Or, at least, before we get in the house."

  "Your house?"

  "Yes."

  I didn't particularly like the picture of pending events forming in my mind. "And what is happening at your house so that I have to put these on?" I asked warily.

  Will sighed. "It's just them and my family. Mark and Gina want to celebrate your graduation. Since it's already official and you’re not going through the formal ceremony in May, they want to do a sort of mini-graduation ceremony for you. They've been planning it for some time. Mark even pulled some strings to get your diploma all ready for you today―although the office wouldn't release it until all your paperwork was finished." (I had obviously been doing a thorough job of keeping input out―I hadn't caught a hint of any of this. Probably ought to rethink that . . . .)

  It didn't really sound too bad. As long as there were only the two families (my two families, as I thought of them) present. Just to make sure . . . .

  "What else?"

  "Graduation cake, presents. Special dinner. The usual graduation stuff." He searched my face, but refrained from searching my mind. "You okay with this?"

  Now that I had more details and was getting used to the idea, it even seemed . . . tolerable. "Yes. As long as I don't have to wear these," holding up the cap and gown, "in public."

  He chuckled. "I can't say that I blame you. Just put them on in the garage."

  That was acceptable. I nodded at him and got in. After he got in, he leaned over to kiss me on the cheek. "You're a good sport."

  "Thanks." I wondered if I would still seem like one by the end of the day.

  On the way to his house, visions of millions of balloons and miles of streamers formed in my mind―all in dull black and putty gray. Fortunately, when I had donned my cap and gown and we entered the house, there were no streamers at all. And the only balloons were multicolored and in a reasonably small bunch tied to a chair by the dining room table, each touting a different graduation message. There were a few presents, a large sheet cake inscribed with "Congratulations, Cassie!", and a large vase with what looked like a full two dozen dark red long-stemmed roses in it.

  "There are only twenty-three on the table. The twenty-fourth is in your hand." It wasn't until Will pointed this out that I realized I had carried it in from the car with me.

  "Congratulations, Sweetheart!" Gina hugged me. "We're so proud of you!"

  Then it was Mark's turn. "Way to go, Kiddo!" His was a bear hug. "You made it!"

  I felt the color rise in my face―more from pleasure than chagrin at the attention, surprisingly. I must be making progress. "Thank you," was all I could think of to say, though I really felt much more.

  "Is it time for the ceremony?" Melinda piped up, addressing Mark.

  "Sure is," he responded.

  Melinda went to one end of the table, where, as it happened, there was a portable CD player. (She was evidently in on all this.) She pressed a button, and the traditional graduation music started playing.

  "Let's see. Where did we put it?" wondered Mark.

  "Here," Gina answered, handing him a silver, water-marked satin covered something. "Just a second," she added, moving the tassel on my cap to the right side, and taking a step back.

  "Thanks, Hon’." Mark pulled himself up to his full height, shoulders back, and inhaled preparatorily. "By the power vested in me by the school district and the high school, I now pronounce you, Cassandra Campbell, officially graduated." He smiled, then continued, "I just made that up, but it's still official." He handed me the diploma with his left hand, putting out his right hand to shake mine. I shifted the rose to my left hand with the diploma, then shook his right one.

  "Move the tassel to the left side now, Cassie," Gina coached me. So I did.

  Then I opened the cover and looked at my diploma. There it was―my name, today's date, and the official declaration that I had successfully completed high school. It was definitively over.

  But the party was apparently just beginning.

  "You have to open your presents now," Melinda told me.

  "Why don't you bring them over here in the living room, Melinda, so we can all sit down," suggested Mrs. Stuart.

  Melinda answered, "Okay." Along with, "You're really going to like these, Cassie." She carefully gathered the few packages of various sizes and headed into the living room with them.

  I used the momentary break to put the rose I was carrying into the vase with the others, and take the card from among the leaves and stems. I opened it quickly, and read:

  Dearest Cassie,

  You are amazing!

  All my love,

  and admiration,

  Will

  He admires me? I couldn't help wondering to myself.

  "You bet I do. If you like―when we have more time―I'd be happy to elaborate," Will offered as his arm came around me. I wasn't sure what to think. I was utterly convinced that he loved me―I experienced irrefutable evidence of that every day. But, admiration? That hadn't even occurred to me. I was truly touched.

  "They're waiting," he whispered, guiding me toward the living room. We sat together on one of the sofas.

  "Why don't you give her Mark and Gina's first," Mrs. Stuart suggested to Melinda. So she did. It was a small black box with a silver bow on it. I wasted no time in opening it. Inside was a neatly printed note indicating that their gift was one "preowned car" which I was to choose with Mark's assistance. (Along with sports, he was well versed in automobile mechanics―though he had long since decided that he preferred to have others do the work on his.)

  "Thank you," I said as enthusiastically as I could manage. I didn't like to drive, as confirmed by the fact that I hadn't gotten my license until well after I turned sixteen and had barely driven since. At the same time, this was very generous of them.

  "We know you don't particularly like to drive, Sweetheart. But, sooner or later, you're going to need a car. Just let us know when, okay?" explained Gina.

  "Okay." I got up and went to where they were sitting to give them each a hug. "It's great of you to do this for me. I really appreciate it."

  "Happy to do it, Kiddo," responded Mark.

  "Who's next?" Melinda pressed on.

  "How about yours? "I suggested, assuming that she hadn't passed up a chance to buy something for me.

  "Okey-dokey," she said, grabbing the largest box wrapped with pink paper and adorned with a large sparkling white bow. "Now don't go getting upset with me. You were going to need one sometime anyway."

  What was she talking about? Puzzled, I opened the box. I should have known. Deep in the folds of white tissue paper was a red dress―dark red, like Will's roses. So that's what she meant. Ever since she had unpacked for me at Thanksgiving and witnessed my limited wardr
obe, she had been after me to get "at least one dress, for heaven's sake."

  "Here, hold it up," Melinda directed, taking the box from my lap so I could stand. I obediently stood up and held it in front of me. The top was in velvet, fitted, with a sweetheart neckline and long sleeves. The skirt was well past my knees, but not floor length, gathered at the waist, and made of a stiffer material of the same color.

  "Shall I get the rest out?" she continued, kneeling by the box.

  "The rest?" What else could there be?

  I found out as she continued to delve into the recesses of the box in front of her. First, a pair of shiny moderately-heeled black pumps which she placed on the floor by my feet. "Gina helped us with your shoe size," she explained. Then she handed me a small black purse, beaded all over. An evening bag, I guessed.

  "So, what do you think?" she asked as she stood up.

  "It's all beautiful, Melinda. Thank you." But where and when was I ever going to wear it?

  "Mom and Dad's next," Melinda said as she took the dress and handed me another smaller box. At that point, I felt everyone watching me intently, and Will reaching out to read me. Why?

  In the box were three envelopes, labeled "Dinner,” "Parking," and "Tickets," respectively. I looked up at Will's parents. "Thank you."

  "Go ahead and open them, Cassie," Mrs. Stuart encouraged me.

  So I did. In the "Dinner" envelope was a substantial prepaid credit card. In the "Parking," cash. I tried to ignore my nerves, and opened the "Ticket" envelope, wondering if I was ready for the crowd that would undoubtedly be attending an event of this apparent magnitude. There were two tickets inside.

  "'The Nutcracker'?" I exclaimed. Will had been reading me, alright. So this was what he had been so careful to keep from me lately. I had seen ads on the television and billboards for the last ten years about the annual performances at Christmas time, and had always despaired of being able to go―both because of my aversion to crowds and the expense involved. So I had never said anything to anyone. He was still watching me closely. I held up the tickets. "You and I?" He nodded.

  But was I ready to enjoy something of this scale? I looked to Dr. Stuart. He didn't have to read my mind to know what I was thinking. "We got you box seats, which should make it easier for you. But I don't know that you really need them. You are ready, Cassie," he assured me.

  Alright. I took a deep breathe, letting it out slowly. "I've wanted to see 'The Nutcracker' for a long time. Thank you."

  Mrs. Stuart responded this time, "You are most welcome, Cassie."

  It felt like I was in a pleasant dream. What could possibly be next? Will was the only one left. Had he gotten me something besides the flowers?

  "Yes," was his answer to my silent question. "I'd like to do my own, please," he advised Melinda.

  "Figured," Melinda responded from where she had already sat down on a chair, holding out a box for him. He got up to retrieve it from her, then came and sat by me again. He placed it in my hands.

  This one was very different from the others. It was a black velvet-looking box, like a jeweler's ring box, only larger. There was a dark red ribbon with a bow around it. I slipped the ribbon off carefully, then paused.

  "It won't bite, Love."

  Are you sure?

  He grinned at me, and I grinned back at him. Oh, yeah―Mark and Gina were here. I'd better get on with it. So I opened the box. Inside was a pendant necklace on a yellow gold chain with matching earrings. They were red heart shapes, the necklace larger than the earrings, with tiny diamonds all the way around them. And they were . . . exquisite. How can I . . . ? I stopped myself because I knew Will would be listening.

  He frowned at me ever so slightly. "You're going to have to tell me later, you know."

  He continued out loud. "They're garnets. I looked at rubies, but decided this red was prettier. Do you like them?" he asked.

  "Yes. They are . . . lovely, Will." I didn't think I'd better kiss him like I wanted to in front of Mark and Gina. So I kissed him on the cheek instead. "Thank you."

  He knew what I was doing and smirked at me. "May I expect a more effusive expression of your gratitude later?"

  I smirked back at him. Maybe.

  "Uh-huh." He went on, "These usually come only in pierced styles. But Gina said you don't have pierced ears, and I didn't think it would be right to expect you to pierce them on a moment's notice because of my choice of present. So, the jeweler was kind enough to customize these for you."

  I took one of the earrings out to check and, sure enough, they had a clasp kind of mechanism on them, complete with a little cushioning pad. I hoped they would be reasonably comfortable. I hadn't worn any before, but I had heard veritable horror stories from Sam about the sometimes painful experience of wearing earrings of various types. She was probably exaggerating, I told myself. "That was very thoughtful, Dar- . . . ." Oops. Mark and Gina.

  Will smiled. "I think we'd better come clean with them sooner rather than later. As if they'll be surprised anyway."

  Yeah. "So, when are we going?"

  "Tomorrow night."

  So soon? "What time will you pick me up?"

  "Actually, Cassie," Gina started, "Melinda begged to help you with your makeup and hair and all. And Mrs. Stuart offered to take you shopping for some makeup, since you don't have much." Not much was an overstatement. I only had mascara, and even I knew that wasn't sufficient for an occasion like this. "I would take you myself, but we won't have time tonight. And Mark and I both have to be at school all day tomorrow."

  "That's okay. I understand."

  "I thought you would. Mrs. Stuart and I have already settled about the money for the makeup. You are not to pay for any of this," she added, somewhat firmly. Then, to Laura, "Are you sure you don't mind picking her up tomorrow?"

  "Not at all, Gina. But maybe it would be simpler if she spent the night here. Then she could sleep in as long as she wanted in the morning and we could go straight from here. In fact, as late as they're going to be tomorrow night, I was going to suggest that Cassie just stay the night then as well.

  "Didn't you mention that you and Mark have something tomorrow night?"

  "Yes, we do," Gina answered. "It's the school district's holiday staff party. They're really going all out this year. It's at a hotel downtown―someone's relative or friend is the owner or manager―and they've arranged for rooms to be available at a discounted rate for anyone who wants to spend the night. I guess we didn't even really consider staying, but if Cassie is here . . . . Mark, would you like to?"

  "To what?" He had been talking with Dr. Stuart.

  "Would you like to stay over at the hotel downtown tomorrow night after the party?" Gina asked.

  "You know, I hadn't really thought about it." He paused briefly. "Yeah. Let's stay."

  "Okay," Gina confirmed, smiling. "Thanks, Laura. We're just so out of the habit of thinking we have the option."

  Mrs. Stuart nodded knowingly. "Cassie is going to need some things from home then. Will could run her over to get them right now while we fix dinner."

  "Will, would you mind?" Gina asked him.

  "Not at all."

  "Then let's go," I encouraged, standing up to leave.

  "Uh, Cassie . . ." and Will gently tugged at the sleeve of my graduation gown.

  "Oh, yeah." Will removed the cap while I took off the gown, and we placed them neatly on a chair in the dining room on our way out.

  We got all the way to my house and inside before Will brought it up. I was heading toward my bedroom to gather some necessities, but he caught my hand and stopped me. "First things first," he said, as he faced me and took my other hand in his. "How do you feel about the car?" He was reaching for my inner response as well.

  "Nervous. But it's great of them to do it, and I will need it. I have no idea what make or model I want, though."

  "Sounds like you're okay with the car. How about the clothes?"

  I chuckled. "Melinda is funny. It's so sweet of h
er, and she has very good taste. I kind of figured your mom helped her though."

  "You're right. She did. So you like the clothes. How about the evening out from Mom and Dad?" Where was he headed with this?

  "I agree with your dad. I'm ready. You and I have been out to eat enough that I think I'll be fine with that. I've never been to something like the ballet before, but I'll be with you. And the box seats will help, don't you think?"

  "Yes, I do. We'll be pretty much by ourselves instead of in the middle of a crowd of people. And I wouldn't even consider taking you if I weren't confident that you could handle it well. I hope you will enjoy it immensely." He reached farther inside me before he went on. "Now, about my present . . . ."

  That's where he was headed. Should have known.

  "They're lovely, Will. And you probably spent too much on them."

  He could read that this was genuinely troubling me. "Cassie, I'm careful with my money. I wouldn't have spent it if I couldn't afford to. Besides, it was nowhere near the cost of a car." Referring, no doubt, to Mark and Gina's gift. That was supposed to make me feel better? That his present didn't cost as much as a car?

  "And, I've got several Christmases―not to mention birthdays and other important occasions―to catch up on." He might have a semi-valid point there. But that wasn't the primary cause of my uneasiness.

  He drew me to him, wrapping his arms around me. I rested my forehead against his chest. "What is it, Cassie?" he asked into my hair.

  Why was it still so hard to tell him some things? Because I knew he would disagree? Because he might be right? Well, it usually worked best to just get it out there before he went in after it. He wasn't going to let it go until I said it myself, anyway―

  "Your present is so beautiful. And I'm . . . not." I waited. And waited. I tried sensing him, but he wouldn't let me in. That new shield of his. Darn it.

  Finally, he spoke. "Do you want me to take it back?" he asked. I didn't have to be able to sense him to know that he was hurting. And to perceive that he had put a lot more into selecting this specific gift for me than I had realized.

  I gently pushed myself back from him until I could look him straight in the eyes. "No. I don't," I answered. "I love you, and your gift, and what it symbolizes." I put my hand over his heart. "And I want us both to be happy and excited and have a wonderful time tomorrow. But I sincerely doubt that I can carry off the dressy look. I'm not classy, or sophisticated. I'm just me."