“What is it, hon? What can Auntie Sue do for you?”
“I need some advice.”
“Okay, shoot.”
“I met this really cool girl and need a spectaculous idea of what to do on our first date.”
“So I guess you and Barbie doll broke up?”
“Ashley. And yeah, it was a bad idea for us to try to stay together while living so far apart.” I didn’t want to go into it. Time was of the essence. I needed her to help me plan my big evening, and we had less than twenty-four hours to do it. “Aunt Sue, our date’s tomorrow. Do you have any ideas?”
“Well,” she said, “tell me a little bit about her. What does she like?”
“That’s the problem. I don’t know her that well. I do know that she’s cute, and sweet and, very smart. She’s only sixteen and already graduated from high school.”
“She sounds terrific.”
Well, yeah.
“What can we do that she will like? You know, the sort of things all girls would like. Is there something like that?”
“How’s the weather supposed to be over there tomorrow night?”
I’m dying here, and she wants to talk about the weather.
“What?”
“The weather, Todd. It makes a difference.”
“Well, you wouldn’t believe it, but tomorrow’s high is supposed to be seventy-five with sixty as the low.”
“That’s Texas for you. My friend in Boston says it’s five degrees and snow flurries. Down here, it’s perfect.”
“Aunt Sue…” Enough with the weather report. What about the date?
“Here’s an idea. Take her on a picnic.”
Interesting.
“Pick somewhere safe, preferably by the lake or river, maybe in a park. Somewhere you can have a bonfire.”
I grabbed a pen out of the coffee table’s drawer and searched for a note pad. “Just a second, Aunt Sue. I want to write this down.”
“Ready?”
I flipped the water bill envelope over and readied the pen. “Ready.”
“Have everything prepared before you pick her up. Take a blanket, a tablecloth, an ice chest, and a picnic basket. I know y’all have one. I gave your mom one two Christmases ago.”
“Then what?”
“Go by the grocery store first and pick up paper plates, plastic flatware, cups, salt, and pepper. And get a pint of potato salad and a pint of slaw. Buy a bag of ice, sodas, bottled ice tea, and juice so she’ll have lots of choices.” She paused, then said, “Oh yeah, buy candles, the pillars.”
“Pillows?”
“No, silly. P-i-l-l-a-r-s.” She spelled it out. “That’s what they call short fat candles. Buy three of the four-inch ones. And don’t forget matches or a lighter.”
“Whoa, I can’t write that fast.”
She waited for me to catch up.
“’Kay.”
“Is there a Clucky Chuck’s restaurant in town?”
“There’s a Chick-Chick Chicken, it’s the same thing.”
“Get a little more chicken than you think you’ll need, both white and dark meat, and grab plenty of napkins. You know, maybe you should buy a package of nice napkins when you go to the store. Are you getting all of this?”
“I’ve got it, but what do we do next?” I asked.
“Next, you sit by the fire and talk. Look at the stars and enjoy each other’s company.”
“What if she gets cold?”
“Then you cuddle close, dummy.”
I like it.
“Is that all?” I asked.
“If you like, afterward, you can stop by some quiet little café for coffee and dessert. Somewhere nice but not too expensive. Expensive reeks pretentious.”
“Anything else?”
“Geesh, Todd, do I have to tell you everything?”
“I guess I can take it from there. Thanks, Aunt Sue.”
Before she hung up, she asked, “By the way, how are things going with your dad and his board? They still want to fire him?”
“Fire him?”
She clucked a fake-sounding chuckle. “I’m just kidding. He mentioned there were some problems, but I wouldn’t worry.”
I thanked her again and said good-bye. The ever-present gnaw at my gut grew stronger. I tried to shake the feeling that there was something to the getting-fired business but couldn’t. Dad and I needed to talk—later, though. For the moment, I had a date to prepare.
»»•««
Thursday morning I was hoping my last talk with Coach Newcomb might have helped with the loathing and hostility from the team, but it only got worse. It was clear that the coach hadn’t said anything to the guys, but Lance and Jamel had.
As I walked from one class to another, my teammates “accidentally” banged into me a couple dozen times. I knew what they were trying to do. They were trying to provoke me into taking the first swing.
After school, I dropped off Josh’s loot and an anonymous note outside of Brandon’s office door. Luckily, he wasn’t around. I didn’t want to get caught with his booty in my truck but didn’t want to snitch either.
I couldn’t understand the level of hate they had for me. They had always resented me as an outsider, and maybe they were uncomfortable because I tried to live a good clean life and not do some of the stuff they did. Pastor Brandon said that sometimes happens. If a person always tries to do the right thing, it can make those around them feel bad for not living that way themselves. My guess was that it was some combination of everything.
The funny thing was, I had been trying to live the Christian life lately, and deep in my heart, I didn’t think I was guilty of losing us the game. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t stop thinking about being wrongly accused. I took solace in the fact that I would pick Lisa up in a few hours for our perfect date.
Chapter Eighteen
I arrived at Lisa’s front door at six forty. Mom had taught me it was impolite to arrive too early to someone’s home, but patience isn’t always a virtue. My old coach in Houston always said, “He who hesitates is lost.” I know he was talking about football, but it could apply to dating girls as well.
Finding dates had always come pretty easy for me, but Lisa was different from other girls. Don’t ask, “Different how?” She was just different…special.
I straightened the collar of my dark blue overshirt and buttoned the pocket flaps. I hitched up the waistband of my Levi’s, gave the toes of my freshly shined boots a final buff on the back side of my pant legs, and rang the bell.
I could hear voices inside, but no one answered the door. I checked out the neighborhood as I waited.
The Brazos lived in a part of town called The Pines. Every house in The Pines was almost identical. White wood-framed exteriors, probably two bedrooms and one bath. Each house sat no more than ten feet from its neighbor on either side. Some of the owners had converted the original carports into garages, and others turned them into an extra room, like Lisa’s house.
Mr. Brazo finally appeared at the door. He wore khaki pants, a white undershirt, and an open green-and-blue plaid bathrobe.
Maybe showing up early wasn’t a good idea after all.
He looked me up and down. I searched his face for some sign of how I measured up to his inspection, but his hard eyes and weather-worn face offered no clue.
“Todd something, right?”
“Yes, sir. Todd Nelson. I’m here for Lisa.”
He grunted, or growled. It was hard to tell which. He stood to the side, and motioned for me to enter. “She is not ready. You’re early.” He pointed to an antique bentwood rocker. “Take a load off.”
I sat and leaned forward, expecting him to say more. He didn’t. I could see someone in the kitchen. Lisa’s stepmother? Maybe. I didn’t know much about Lisa’s family, but from what she said before, I didn’t think her mother lived there.
“What you got there?” Mr. Brazo asked, waved his hand toward the gold-and-green striped gift bag I’d set on the
floor beside the chair.
“Just a little something for Lisa.” I’d remembered Rule Number Five and had stopped at the Discount Mart for a little blue stuffed bear wearing a lab coat. I knew Lisa was going to go to Duke University next September, and that Duke’s football team was the Blue Devils. Duke’s mascot or not, I wasn’t about to bring Lisa a stuffed devil, so I settled on the blue bear.
The dark-haired woman from the kitchen stepped into the living room, definitely too young to be Lisa’s mother, but she bore an unmistakable family resemblance.
“Oh, Todd,” said Mr. Brazo, “this is my other daughter, Theresa. In the absence of an older aunt, she has agreed to be the dueña for the evening.” He flicked his hand at her. “Resa, go get your wrap. It may get cold tonight.”
“Dueña?” I asked.
“Yes,” he said. “She will be your and Lisa’s compañero para la tarde.”
“Compañera,” Theresa corrected. It’s compañer-a, Daddy, not compañer-o.” She turned to me and explained. “It means chaperone, your companion for the evening. You know, someone to make sure you are always a gentleman.”
I didn’t know what to say. Rule Number Three said a “few” ultratraditional families required a chaperone. “A few.” It was supposed to be a rarity today. Lisa never said her family was that conservative. An ordinary person would think old-fashioned just meant conservative, not archaic. Talk about your dream-date killer.
Lisa’s dad and I sat in awkward silence as Theresa gathered up her purse and heavy wool shawl. It took an hour for the next five minutes to tick by. Finally, Mr. Brazo turned his head and looked over my left shoulder toward the hallway. I tracked his gaze to catch sight of the most beautiful girl I’d ever seen.
I knew some people’s heart skipped a beat or pounded in their chest when they saw their special someone, but I swear, my heart stopped beating altogether. I had to remind myself to breathe.
Lisa wore an emerald-green knit turtleneck and designer blue jeans tight enough to give a good idea of her fit but curvaceous form, but not so tight as to look trashy. Her jeans were tucked into brown calf-high leather low-heeled boots. Killer.
She looked amazing, and I told her so.
She smiled and held up a black-and-yellow tote the size of a school bus.
“What’cha got in there, a Volkswagen?” I asked.
“No,” she said, “a peanut butter and jelly sandwich in case I don’t like what you brought, four cans of hair spray in case the wind kicks up, and six rolls of duct tape, if we have to rebuild a city or something.”
I love a girl with a sense of humor.
I handed her the gift bag as I took her tote bag.
“What’s this?” I wished my comeback could have been as spontaneous and witty as hers, but as Law would say, “My tang was toungled.”
I forced out a reply. “Uh. It’s just a little gift. I didn’t know if you were a chocolates or flowers kind of girl.”
“I like chocolates,” her dad called out from his chair.
Lisa grimaced. She reached into the bag and pulled out the stuffed bear. She squinted and looked up. I expected her to say something, but she didn’t. It was a dumb idea. She’s a college girl, not a kid.
“I know you are going to Duke in the spring, and I couldn’t find a stuffed Duke Blue Devil. Besides, I didn’t think it was a good idea to give a girl a devil.” My babbling didn’t help.
Lisa smiled and thanked me as she reached over and slipped the bear into the tote.
“Good evening, Mr. Brazo,” I said, as I swapped the tote bag over to my left hand and opened the door for Lisa and Theresa.
Lisa bent over and kissed her father on the top on the head as she headed for the door. As Theresa followed her out, Lisa asked her, “Where are you going?”
Theresa said, “With you two.”
Lisa raised her eyebrows and cocked her head to the side. Her father called out through the door as it closed, “She’s the dueña.”
Lisa froze where she stood between the door and the steps. Theresa trotted down the stairs and waited on the sidewalk. Lisa let out a low, “Oooooooh. I am going to kill you two.”
That caught me by surprise.
She grasped me with a hand on each of my shoulders. She said, “You wait right here.” She turned to her sister who was slipping around the front corner of the house. “You too, Sister. I’ll deal with you in a minute.”
I was thoroughly confused. I stood alone on the porch, while Theresa continued her scurry around the corner. I heard a car door close, and an engine start. A moment later, Theresa backed down the driveway. Once in the street, she slammed the car into “Drive” and sped off into the dusk at a speed that would have made a NASCAR driver proud.
I couldn’t make out many of the words through the closed front door, but I caught the tone clear enough. Lisa was angry and letting her dad have it. That did not fit with my idea of an ultraconservative Mexican family. I edged closer to the door.
“…do that to me?” she yelled. “What is he going to think now? I wouldn’t be surprised if he has already sprinted back to his truck and sped off.”
“Pumpkin, I was just having a little fun,” said her dad. “I couldn’t help it. He was so serious yesterday.”
I heard him laugh.
Lisa said something in a whisper. I couldn’t make it out. The truth was beginning to sink in, and I could feel my face flush. I was half a second from doing exactly what Lisa said she wouldn’t blame me for doing when she stepped back out onto the porch.
She said, “Todd, my dad has something to say to you.”
“Not cool. I don’t talk to people who make fun of me.” I could feel my embarrassment turning to anger. The anger thing never seemed to be far from me lately. Lisa put her hand on my arm, and I pulled away. My jaw tightened, and my breathing slowed and deepened. I turned to leave. I don’t need this crap.
“Please, Todd, wait.” I looked at her over my shoulder. Pools of tears were building in her eyes. She wrinkled her face as though in pain.
I stopped but didn’t say anything. I didn’t know what to say, but seeing her so sad and vulnerable, I couldn’t leave.
“Todd, I am so sorry. My dad thinks he’s a comedian. He can be a real jerk sometimes. He doesn’t stop and think other people might not find him so funny.”
She leaned her head against my shoulder and wrapped both her arms around my right arm, squeezing it in a firm, desperate hug.
I didn’t pull away as I had before.
“Don’t be mad at me. I’d never do anything to embarrass you. I swear I had no idea what they were going to do.”
I felt the warmth of her breath through the material of my shirt. I tilted my head down toward the top of her head. She smelled of soap and flowers. My anger melted away, and I wanted to turn her to me and hold her in my arms, but I didn’t want to risk it. The way I felt at that moment, she could be the one.
I said, “I don’t blame you…or even him. I’ve been a little touchy lately.”
I caught a glimpse of her dad waiting for me inside the partially open door. I should have given him a chance to apologize, but instead, I took Lisa’s arm and guided her down the steps to my truck. I decided to shake off my wounded pride and concentrate on the opportunity at my side.
Chapter Nineteen
Mooney Park’s parking lot was full of cars. When I checked the day before, only four or five cars sat in the lot. A handful of moms watched their children play on the swings and slides in the adjacent playground. I expected Thursday to be the same. It wasn’t.
In all my careful planning, I had forgotten about the park’s two soccer fields. I should have guessed that, sooner or later, soccer games would be played there. Well, yeah.
Cars overflowed the main parking lot, filled the picnic area’s lot, and ran down both sides of the street for blocks. Lisa and I had to park on the street almost a mile away. Lisa struggled a bit with her big tote as we left the sidewalk and trekked down the sto
ne path to the river. I offered to take it, but she said, “I’m a lot tougher than I look.” She stopped and turned to face me. “You guys seem to think we fems are poor, weak little things who can’t do anything.”
“Not true,” I said. “That’s not how I see women at all. You may be feminine and smaller than most guys, but I happen to know women can be tough as steel. I learned that from watching my mom.”
Her expression softened. “I never really got a chance to say how sorry I was about her…uh, passing,”
“Thanks. It’s almost like I’m being punished for something.”
“For what?”
“I don’t know. I never considered myself that bad of a guy.”
Lisa didn’t say anything, and we continued our walk in silence.
No one had set up in the spot I had chosen. At least one thing went as planned. The sun took on a soft orangeish-gold glow as it settled behind the treetops to the west. For once, things were looking like they just might work out for ol’ Todd Nelson. A welcome change.
The soccer game noises, while continuous, remained muted and subdued. I guess the ten-foot-high wood fence erected between the soccer field and the river helped contain the crowd noise. No doubt, the city built the fence to keep errant balls from rolling all the way down the grassy slope and into the water.
Lisa and I could have been the models for some famous painter’s depiction of young lovers on a blanket under a majestic oak. We ate fried chicken, coleslaw, and yeast rolls with canned sodas instead of French cheese, crusty bread, and wine, but it was nice.
Lisa looked fantastic. Her black hair glistened in the failing sunlight. It looked wet, but from when she grabbed me on her front porch, I knew it wasn’t. She wore her bangs long, down to her eyebrows, giving her face an air of sensitivity and vulnerability. Her complexion was flawless, and her lips were full. I melted every time she smiled.
I leaned back against the tree trunk and closed my eyes. I was in heaven, and for the first time in a very long time, I was at peace with heaven and earth. Mid-December or not, the temperature was a perfect seventy degrees until the sun completely disappeared. Mom’s picnic basket came with an old-fashioned hand-painted thermometer attached to the lid. The temperature dropped into the low sixties soon after we ate. A short half hour later, and it had dropped into the mid-fifties. I tossed some wood and a Fire-Lite stick onto the fire ring and lit it.
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