by Jack Weyland
I said to her, “I woke up early this morning, and couldn’t sleep, thinking about how little time we have left.”
“It’s over a month.”
“That’s true.”
“When I woke up this morning, I felt so guilty about what we did last night. Did you?”
“Not really,” I said.
“Have you ever felt guilty for something you did wrong?” she asked.
“Well, yeah. That’s what Mormons do—feel guilty.”
She laughed but then asked, “So what did you do about it?”
“I went to my bishop and talked to him.”
“What did he say?”
“He worked with me. And now it’s taken care of.”
Her eyebrows raised at the word now, but she didn’t say anything.
“That’s what happened to me,” she said. “It was in high school. But even though it’s taken care of, once in a while, I still feel guilty.”
“No need to.”
“You’re right.”
I paused. “We’re not going to tell each other what it was, are we?” I asked.
“No, we’re not.”
“Good. I really don’t care what yours was.”
“Me either.”
After that we shared scriptures that deal with repentance and forgiveness.
And then we talked about the Savior.
We both felt the Spirit.
It felt good.
So good.
“Thomas and I never talk about things like this. He never seems to have the time to just talk. He’s always going a mile-a-minute.”
“He’ll slow down once he’s passed his bar exam.”
She put her elbows on the table and rested her chin in her hands. She sighed and said, “I don’t think he’ll ever slow down.”
“You just have to tell him what you want.”
“Maybe so.” She closed her scriptures and stood up. “I need to go. Thomas said he’d call me later today so I’d better be there.”
She headed for the door. “Don’t bother to see me to my car. I’ll call you tomorrow. Maybe we can work out at the club again.”
“That’d be great. I’ve missed Chanteille.”
When my grandparents got up from their nap, they felt badly that Brianna had left.
“Well, maybe it’s just as well,” my grandmother said. “We need to talk.”
“We think you need to tell Brianna how you feel about her,” my grandfather said.
“How do I feel about her?”
“You’re madly in love with her,” my grandfather said.
“I am? Thanks for telling me.”
“You are, and you need to tell her.”
“What for? She’s practically engaged.”
“Maybe she’d have second thoughts if she knew how you feel,” my grandmother said.
“There’s that restaurant with the cliff divers,” my grandfather said. “They put on a real good show. Why don’t you take her there?”
“She might like that,” my grandmother said.
And so, against my better judgment, on Friday, I took Brianna to the Mexican restaurant my grandparents had recommended. The restaurant was three-stories high, with tables situated on little balconies where customers could get a good view of the divers.
I had carefully worked out what I was going to say, even writing it out beforehand and practicing it in front of a mirror. But I pictured a quiet table, where I would softly say, “Brianna, I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. My grandparents love you, and I’ve grown to care about you a great deal as well. If things don’t work out between you and Thomas, please remember that I’m here for you.” And then I would reach out, hold her hand, and give her a rose.
But once we arrived at the restaurant, the reality of the situation was much different than I had imagined. Our table was next to a waterfall that was so noisy, we could barely hear each other. What with the noise of the falling water and the music blaring during each show, it was hard to even carry on a conversation. In addition, someone in a fake monkey suit was perched on an artificial rock ledge just a few feet from where we were sitting, and the monkey kept staring at us.
After one of the shows, and before we’d been served our food, I saw my chance.
“Brianna, there’s something I need to tell you!” I yelled above the noise of the waterfall and background music.
“What?”
“The reason I brought you to this restaurant is—”
“What?”
“Restaurant!”
“Restrooms?” she yelled. “I have no idea where they are, either! But if I have many more glasses of lemonade, I’m going to need one pretty soon too!”
I leaned closer. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together!”
The monkey jumped down from his perch and started toward us.
I stood up and faced him. “Get out of here!” I shouted.
The monkey stood and waved its arms at me.
“You stupid monkey! Go away!”
The monkey shrugged his shoulders and left to go harass some other diners.
I sat down again. “I’m sorry that I had to yell at the monkey in front of you!”
“It’s not a real monkey!”
“What?” I hollered.
“It’s not a real monkey!”
“I know that!”
“I didn’t know if you did or not!” she yelled back.
A guy about my age, wearing red slacks and a pink flowery shirt approached us. “Hello, folks, how’s it going? Hey, guess what? I’m the Balloon Man! Would you like me to make a balloon hat for each of you?”
“No, go away,” I complained. “And tell everyone else to quit bothering us.”
“What about you, pretty lady? Have you seen any of the balloon hats I’ve made for some of our guests?”
“No, I haven’t, actually.”
“Well, come, let me show you.”
Brianna went to the ledge with Balloon Man. In pointing out hats he’d made for others, he put his hand around her waist and drew her in closer to him.
“We don’t want any stupid hats!” I shouted at him.
“I’d like one like that,” Brianna said.
He kissed her on the hand. “My pleasure, Señorita.”
A few minutes later she was wearing the most ridiculous hat I’d ever seen. I couldn’t look at her without wanting to laugh. An orange balloon encircled her head, and there was a green balloon flower stem coming out of the top of her head, and a red balloon fake flower that bobbed on the stem whenever she moved her head.
The good thing was that after the Balloon Man made the hat, he went away. There was also a momentary lull in the diving and the loud music that went along with it. Stupid hat or not, this was my chance. It was the quietest it had been since we got there.
I spit out the words as fast as I could. “I can’t tell you how much I’ve enjoyed the time we’ve spent together. My grandparents love you, and I’ve grown to care a great deal about you, too.”
“What did you say?”
The announcer’s voice suddenly drowned out all other noise. “Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, good evening! And now for the best diving show in New Jersey!”
I stood up and walked to the ledge. “Turn down the volume! It’s so loud in here I can’t hear myself think!” I shouted.
Apparently the divers did not appreciate me complaining. The first diver dove close enough so that the splash from his dive drenched me.
The monkey made the mistake of laughing. I went over and shook his little monkey shoulders. “I want to talk to the manager.”
“I am the manager.”
“You’re a monkey, for crying out loud! How can you be the manager?”
“Okay, okay, I’m not the manager! But he’s my uncle.”
“Whatever. Look, I need it quiet so I can—”
“Ask your girlfriend to marry you?�
� the monkey asked, his voice sounding hollow inside his fake monkey head.
“Something like that.”
“I can make an engagement hat for both of you!” Balloon Man said.
“Get out of here and leave us alone!”
Balloon Man looked very disappointed, and the monkey looked, well, like a monkey. But they did leave.
I sat next to Brianna while she watched the diving show. As soon as it was over, I leaned close to her so she’d be able to hear me. Even so, I had to speak real loud. “Brianna, there’s something I need to tell you,” I fairly shouted.
As she turned to face me, her extended balloon flower bopped me in the nose.
She started to giggle. “Sorry!”
Just then two waiters brought us our food. Just my luck—hers was on fire.
“That’s it, I give up!” I complained. I hunched over my food and ate it as fast as I could. I just wanted to be out of the place.
“You okay?” Brianna asked.
“Great, just great,” I muttered, with my mouth full of food.
“There’s something I need to tell you, Adam,” she said, raising her voice.
“Is it something serious?” I yelled.
“Yes.”
“Then take off that stupid balloon hat.”
She removed the hat. “Thomas called me last night!” she shouted.
“What’d he say?”
“He told me he thought I was spending way too much time with you!”
I figured she was about to tell me she couldn’t see me anymore. So, wanting to take her home as quickly as possible, I took another huge bite of food.
She looked at me in shock. “I can’t believe you can get so much food in your mouth in one bite.”
With my cheeks bulging, I could only scowl at her.
“Do you want to know what I told him?”
I meant to say, “Sure, why not?” but I’m sure she couldn’t understand a word I said.
“I broke up with Thomas last night!” she said.
“Huh?”
“I realized I don’t love him enough to marry him. Adam, I know you’re going back to Utah, so this is really bad timing, but the truth is, I really think I’m in love with you. It just sort of snuck up on me. One moment we were friends, and then, all of a sudden, bam, there it was.”
Shredded meat is very hard to chew up in a hurry. Especially half a pound of it. It seemed to take forever.
“Take your time. We’re in no hurry,” she said.
Finally I finished. “I was going to tell you the same thing.”
She got a silly grin on her face. “You broke up with Thomas, too?” she yelled.
“No, not that part. The part about being in love.”
“So that means that you and I—” she began.
The monkey was back.
Brianna stood up and waved her hands. “Get out of here, you stupid monkey!”
The monkey scurried away.
“Thank you,” I said, mouthing the words so she could read my lips.
“No problem.” She reached for my hand and leaned close to my ear. “I’m not sure what just happened here.”
“You mean with the monkey?” I asked.
“No, not the monkey. I mean the part about us being in love.”
“I know. That’s new ground for both of us, isn’t it?” I said.
“It is, for sure.”
“What are we talking about here?” I asked, sorry I had to say it so loudly.
“I don’t know. I haven’t dared think that far ahead.”
Unfortunately the monkey was onto us. “Engagement Time!” he shrieked.
Waiters came running toward us and put Mayan head-pieces on us and joined in a happy engagement chant. And then they shook our hands and took our pictures and brought us a free dessert.
Five minutes later, another show began.
“Let’s make a run for it while we can!” Brianna shouted at me.
We barely managed to escape.
I drove Brianna to her apartment, where we sat on the front steps and talked until we were both too tired to say another word. I walked her to her door, we kissed a couple of times and then she pushed me away. “Now that we’re in new territory, I’m booting you out of here,” she said.
Notwithstanding the disaster at the restaurant, I drove home a very happy guy.
11
That same night, as soon as I got home, I went to my grandparents’ room and knocked. “Grandmother? Grandfather? I need to talk to you both. It’s very important.”
My grandmother came to the door and opened it. “Is something wrong?”
“No. Everything’s great! Brianna broke up with Thomas! She told me she thinks she’s in love with me!”
“Oh, that is such good news!” she turned on the ceiling light. “Eddie, wake up! Brianna broke up with Thomas!”
He sat up in bed and rubbed his eyes. “She what?”
“She broke up with Thomas! Isn’t that great?”
“It’s an answer to prayer, that’s what it is! This calls for a celebration!”
They put on their robes, and we went down to the kitchen and had hot chocolate and Graham Crackers. They insisted I tell them every detail, which I was happy to do.
We laughed and ate and talked until past midnight, and then we had family prayer, gave each other a big hug, and went to bed.
After getting ready for bed, I went into my room and to my closet and retrieved my mom’s paintings as well as my sketches of Brianna. As I looked at each one, I tried to imagine what my first mom’s reaction would have been if she’d been alive to get to know Brianna. I was sure she’d love Brianna and be very happy for me.
At that one instant in time I felt so alive and happy and content with my life. Everything was going so well for me now. I had a better idea of who I was. And I was in love. And I would probably be getting married sometime soon. How could anything be better than that?
I sat at the harp and plucked a few strings. For some reason it seemed to anchor me to my first mom. I don’t know why, since she quit playing it soon after her folks bought it.
Even though I didn’t remember her, I felt a real connection to my first mom and wished I could talk to her. I remembered the story my dad had told me of when she knew she was dying and pleaded with me not only to say Mommy but to remember her.
Now it was me wondering if she remembered or thought about me, or if she was too busy in Paradise to think about her son.
“Mom, please remember me because I love you now.”
I glanced out the window. The sky was beginning to turn gray. I wanted to spend as much time as possible with Brianna on Saturday and needed to get some sleep. And so I slipped between the sheets and soon fell asleep.
I slept until noon. When I finally got up, I found a note from my grandparents, telling me they’d gone to get groceries.
I shaved, showered, grabbed something to eat, and called Brianna on her cell phone. When she answered, she told me she was at work and that she wouldn’t be home until six.
“Since when do you work Saturdays?” I asked.
“My boss called me at eight-thirty this morning. They have an important case that needs immediate attention. And guess what? He’s putting me in charge of the whole thing. That means no more making other people look good. I’m my own boss on this! Isn’t that exciting?”
“Yeah, sure, great! Good for you!”
“Thanks.”
At six o’clock I was sitting in my car in the shade of a tree in front of her apartment when she pulled into the parking lot.
We hurried toward each other and hugged.
“That’s what I’ve needed all day!” she said as we walked hand in hand to her apartment.
“Me too. I was going crazy waiting for you. I was so desperate I was about to commit a crime just so I could have you for my lawyer.”
She laughed. “I’d have defended you for free. My day has been awful too.”
“Wh
at happened?”
“Well, it’s fairly complicated . . . and boring, actually.”
I couldn’t help wondering if she thought I would never be able to understand what she did every day at work. But I didn’t let it bother me.
She let us in and then headed to her room. “I’ll be right back. I need to change. You’re welcome to anything in the fridge you can find.”
She came back in a few minutes, barefoot and wearing a pair of khaki pants and a T-shirt. She opened the refrigerator. “Have you eaten?”
“Not yet. You want to go out?”
“No, let’s do with what’s here.” She grabbed a carton of eggs and a green pepper, some cheese and a package of sliced ham from the refrigerator, then began to cut the green pepper into tiny pieces.
I came up behind her and wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her on the back of her neck.
“That feels nice.”
“I love you,” I said.
“I love you too, but I missed lunch and so, right now, I am starving! So let me work, okay?”
“How about if I go read your paper?”
“Sure, that’d be good. Oh, one thing, it’s the Wall Street Journal.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Well, it’s not the most exciting reading you’ll ever find.”
“Is that it, or is it that you don’t think I could understand it?”
She laughed. “Adam, I don’t know anybody who completely understands the Wall Street Journal. But, you go ahead and try if you want. Then explain it to me.”
I read a couple of articles in the paper but couldn’t understand them. I started turning pages. “They got any comics in this paper?”
She laughed. “That’s what I asked the first time I read one.”
We sat and ate and talked. And then, all of a sudden, it hit me. “This is so great!”
“You like the omelet that much?”
“No, not that. It’s you and me, sitting around the table, eating a meal together, talking about our day. I mean, think about it, we could be doing this, day after day, for the rest of our lives. It makes me really happy to think about us together.”
She leaned over and kissed me on the cheek. “It makes me happy too.”
I went into the living room and brought back the Wall Street Journal.