Tomorrow I was going to get my license, a girlfriend, and a life-changing date.
My dad and I were at the driver’s exam office a half hour before it opened.
“You’re in luck,” said the clerk at the license counter. “Our first appointment canceled. We can fit you in right away.”
Everything was working out perfectly.
My examiner was a short, round man with a fluffy white beard that reached his waist. “Call me Sam,” he said, shaking my hand. His eyes were bright and his cheeks were pink. He looked as much like Santa as the man they hired each Christmas at the strip mall. Then I realized that he was the man they hired.
As Santa struggled to make the seat belt reach across his lap, I reviewed the parting advice my dad had given me: “Drive like you’re afraid, Steven, and that examiner will think you’re a coward. Drive with confidence, and you’ll earn his respect.”
“You can start the car when you’re ready,” said Sam.
With a strong, sharp twist, I cranked the ignition, hoping Sam noticed the confidence in my wrist.
He instructed me to pull out onto the street. I did so, swiftly and boldly. Sam nearly rolled over on top of me. “Whoa, take it easy!” he exclaimed, rolling back to an upright position.
Okay, maybe that was a little too confident. I checked my speed, then proceeded down the street.
It had started to snow. Not little sugary flakes, but thick, wet, sticky flakes that splattered against the windshield. I turned on the wiper blades, but they only smeared the snow around into a blurry film.
“Go ahead and take a right at this next corner.”
I squinted through the windshield. Did Sam mean this first corner coming up, or the next corner after it?
My confidence began to slip.
I didn’t want to sound stupid by asking which corner he meant, but then again, I didn’t want to turn at the wrong place either.
The snow was coming down harder now, like fat gray moths attacking the car.
Best just to make a decision. Be confident, my dad would tell me. Be decisive. Show this guy you know how to handle a car. I chose the second corner and prepared to turn.
That’s when I noticed the stop sign.
I hit the brakes hard, but the car didn’t stop. Instead, we glided into the intersection, spinning like those amusement-park rides where you twist the wheel in your cart until you get sick and throw up. Street signs, streetlights, three-story office buildings sailed past as we spun in a circle. When we finally stopped, we were pointed in the direction that Sam had asked me to turn.
Sam didn’t say anything. Neither did I. Maybe, just maybe, he hadn’t noticed. It was my only hope.
I proceeded forward.
“Take another right turn,” said Sam.
This time my stopping and turning were models of perfection.
“And another.”
Exquisite execution.
“And one more right.”
Professional to the extreme. I could have starred in an instructional movie on perfect right turns. Surely I must have proven that I was a master at turning. Surely Sam could see that.
“And pull up to the curb.”
We were back in front of the exam building.
“That’s it,” said Sam. “You failed.”
Failure was not on my schedule for the day.
“You went through a stop sign,” he continued. “Automatic failure.”
He unfastened his seat belt and pushed open his door. I grabbed his arm so he couldn’t get out. “But I can’t fail!” I told him. “I’ve got a date!”
The Santa Claus twinkle was gone from his eyes.
“Sorry, son,” he said. “I hope she lives within walking distance.”
“Fathead city employee!”
My dad was driving me to school.
“What does he know? I’ve gone through plenty of stop signs in my life, and does that make me a bad driver?”
I didn’t answer. I was too busy trying to think of a way to rescue my date with Bree.
“The world is full of jerks, Steven. Don’t let the idiots stop you from getting what you want.” He pounded on the steering wheel for emphasis. “We’ll come back next week and show that moron that you can drive circles around anyone on the road.”
I had already shown Sam that I could drive circles. I needed to show him that I could stop at stop signs.
We arrived in front of the school.
“Dad, about my date today …”
It wasn’t the ideal solution, but it would have to do.
“… could you drive us to the movies?”
“Can’t,” he said. “I’m working late.”
My plans were falling apart faster than I could rewrite them.
“But Dad, you don’t understand!”
My voice was louder than either of us expected.
“Calm down, Steven. It’s not the end of the world. Take the girl out next week.”
She wasn’t available next week. Or next month, for that matter. Maybe not even next year. If I wanted a date with Bree, it had to be today.
It was only when we were boarding the bus to go home that I finally managed to locate Bree. I helped hoist her backpack up the steps.
“Thanks, Steven,” she said. “I’m really looking forward to this evening.”
“Me too,” I said. “But first, I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
She and her backpack took a seat. I sat down behind her.
“I’ve been incredibly chauvinistic. It was wrong for me to assume that I’d be the one driving. Maybe you want to drive. Plenty of people find driving therapeutic and restful.”
She smiled her beauty-queen smile. “You are such a thoughtful guy,” she said. “I’d love to drive.”
Yes!
“But I don’t have a car and my mom doesn’t get home till six.”
She pulled a stack of tiny flash cards from her backpack and handed them to me. They were covered with strange abbreviations. “I’m taking an online chemistry class. Would you mind helping me with my inorganic compounds?”
I shuffled the deck and held up the cards, one by one. “Come to think of it,” I said, “I didn’t even ask if you liked movies. If you want, we could meet at the park and go skating.”
“Calcium oxide. Sulfur dioxide.”
“Or sledding.”
“Sulfuric acid. Carbonic acid.”
“Or maybe we could just go for a walk. Who doesn’t like walking in freshly fallen snow?”
“Sodium hydroxide. Hydrochloric acid.”
She rattled off the words faster than I could flash the cards.
“Steven, is there a problem with going to the movies?”
Bree had blazed through the entire deck of thirty cards without a single mistake. Not only was she a beauty queen, she was a scientific genius. How could I admit to a talent like Bree that I couldn’t even pass a simple driving test?
“No, there’s no problem. It’s just that going to the movies seems so ordinary. This is our first date and I want it to be special. Memorable. Hey, I know! Why don’t you come over to my house and we can play Scrabble?”
She combed her auburn hair with her long, slender fingers. Each of her nails was perfectly manicured. “That’s real sweet, Steven, but a movie sounds better.”
“Terrific! Then that’s what we’ll do.”
We had reached Bree’s corner.
“See you at four,” she said, shouldering her pack.
“I’ll be there,” I replied.
It was snowing again. At least if it had been summer, Bree and I could have ridden our bikes.
I stared out the kitchen window and watched the snow cover the barbecue grill in the backyard. It wasn’t fair. If I was capable of driving my dad’s pickup all the way to Round Lake, didn’t that prove I was a responsible driver? Why shouldn’t I be allowed to drive the few miles to the movie theater?
The clock in the hallway chimed quarter to four.<
br />
Wasn’t my future happiness more important than the whims of an overly critical driving examiner?
The answer was obvious: Of course it was.
My dad’s pickup rattled into Bree’s driveway and lurched to a stop. I turned off the engine and walked to her door.
“Sorry I’m a few minutes late,” I said. “I ran into some unexpected delays.”
“No problem,” she said. “It gave me time to reprogram my cell phone.”
I escorted her to the pickup and pulled open the rusty passenger door.
“Howdy,” said a voice from inside.
“And this is my dentist, Dr. Newel.”
Dr. Newel was the only adult in our family’s address book who had been available at such short notice. He was a Superman collector like I was, and for months had been asking to buy my 1967 Superman lunch box (complete with original thermos). When I’d called and told him I was willing to sell, if he rode with me on this date, he had canceled a late-afternoon root canal and was at my house in five minutes. When he’d pulled up in his red Porsche, I was thrilled. Dr. Newel, however, insisted it was strictly a two-person car. That’s why we ended up with my dad’s truck, a junk heap on wheels with room for three.
“I know it’s kind of weird bringing your dentist along on a date, but I —”
“You’re Steven’s dentist? That’s fantastic!” Bree extended her hand and Dr. Newel pulled her into the cab. “I’ve been thinking about a career in oral surgery. You don’t happen to have any good recommendations for undergraduate schools, do you?”
Dr. Newel exposed a grin full of oversized teeth. “You bet I do!” he said. “All five of my daughters have dental practices themselves. Nothing makes me happier than guiding a young person into the rewarding field of mouth care.”
By the time we got to the movie theater Dr. Newel and Bree were already arranging a summer internship program. From the enthusiastic intensity of their discussion, I was afraid I wasn’t going to be able to separate them.
“Here’s an idea,” I said. “Why don’t you write up a list of dental scholarships, Dr. Newel, while Bree and I are watching the show. By ourselves.”
“Excellent thinking,” he told me, taking a ballpoint pen shaped like a toothbrush from inside his coat. “I’ll be waiting for you in the lobby when the movie lets out.”
My time alone with Bree was dwindling. I needed to make every second count. At the ticket window I bought two admissions to the most romantic-sounding show playing, You and Me and Love. Then I steered Bree toward the refreshment counter. I was going to spare no expense to make this a first-class event. “Order anything you like,” I said gallantly. “Cost is no —”
I stopped midsentence. A life-size cardboard cutout of Bree was staring back at me from the other side of the counter. She was dressed in a gown and a rhinestone tiara. In one hand she held a hockey stick; in the other, a tray of snacks. A sign above the cutout read,
TRY A ROYAL COMBINATION: A KING-SIZE SODA AND A QUEEN-SIZE POPCORN
“A modeling contract came with the title of Miss Hockey Stick,” explained Bree.
We ordered two Bree Caruthers Specials. I paid while Bree signed autographs for the concession workers.
By the time we entered the theater, the movie had already begun. Bree pointed to a pair of seats in the center. An elderly couple in the same row spotted us and waved. At first I thought they were more of Bree’s fans, then I realized they were waving at me. It was Morris and Mavis Swenson from the Busy Bees, dressed in their dancing clothes, catching an early show before tonight’s dance.
“Friends of yours?” asked Bree.
I hesitated. Bree already knew that I drove a pickup with holes in the floor. She knew that I brought my dentist along on dates. She did not need to know that I was a square dancer as well. “Missionaries from church,” I whispered. “Let’s sit down front. I don’t want to miss a thing.”
We settled into our front-row seats and stowed our trays at our feet. I helped Bree off with her coat, then ever so casually draped my arm around the back of Bree’s chair, allowing my hand to rest lightly on her shoulder. I had watched enough couples on television to know that this was the proper position for a boy and a girl.
Yes. This was the way the date was supposed be. Me and Bree alone, enjoying a romantic film. I leaned back and stared up at the giant screen, savoring the perfection of the moment.
The movie seemed to be about a couple of brothers, or best friends, who traveled around together. I think they were looking for girls. To be honest, I didn’t give it a lot of thought. Instead, I thought about all the people in the lobby who had seen me out on a date with the most popular girl at school. If each of those people told four other people, and those four people told four more, by Tuesday morning all of Beaver Lake would know how much I enjoyed dating women.
Then I began to wonder how long it was going to take before my close proximity to Bree triggered some sort of physical interest. To be fair, it had only been a few minutes. I had the rest of the date to develop an interest in girls.
But mostly I thought about how much my arm hurt. On television, the boy with his arm wrapped around the girl’s shoulder always looked comfortable and relaxed. Then why was my arm beginning to cramp, and why did my shoulder socket feel like someone was driving a nail into it? But I didn’t move. I wasn’t about to break the intimate mood of our date.
I turned my attention back to the film. Maybe that would distract me from the pain in my arm.
The two best friends were lying on a beach. I guess they still hadn’t found any girls yet. Turquoise waves rolled onto the shore. A tropical breeze made the distant palm trees dance. I wondered when the romantic part of this movie was going to kick in.
Just then, one of the guys (the one with muscular arms and very short swim trunks) laid his head on the other guy’s lap (the guy with emerald eyes and a black goatee). They smiled at each other and interlocked fingers.
The pain in my shoulder vanished.
The guy with the goatee bent closer toward his friend and they stared deeply into each other’s eyes.
I leaned toward the screen.
Their lips got closer and closer, until at last …
I melted into the cushions of my seat as the two young men towering above me engaged in a long and passionate kiss.
“Ewwwww!”
The noise from behind us snapped me to attention. The guy on my right gagged, and somewhere a row of high school girls giggled.
I tightened my grip on Bree’s shoulder.
What had I been thinking? How could I have forgotten the purpose of this date? I was here to have fun with a member of the opposite sex, not become dreamy over a pair of handsome actors falling in love.
Had anybody caught me watching that kiss? Was Bree slowly moving away from me? I was never going to see a movie again without thoroughly checking the reviews.
The movie continued, and whenever the two guys appeared together (which was pretty much all of the time), I closed my eyes tightly and willed myself not to listen. I was not going to risk being distracted by something so counterproductive to this date.
I prayed for the film to end, but we were obviously watching the longest movie in the history of modern cinema. Hours turned into days. Days turned into weeks.
An eternity later, when the credits finally appeared, Bree stood up and my arm fell limply onto her seat.
“So, what did you think?” she asked.
I shook my bloodless arm and rolled my head in a vague, noncommittal manner.
“I agree,” she said. “It was pretty predictable.”
I filled my mouth with popcorn and hoped that this was the end of our post-movie recap.
“I’m impressed that you picked this film, Steven. Some guys would have been freaked out by a gay love story.”
“Gay?” I said. “Those guys were gay? I didn’t notice. I think I dozed off for a while.”
“I’m pretty sure my life coach is ga
y,” continued Bree. “He’s never been married, and he’s always talking about his roommate, James.”
“I’m planning on getting married before I’m twenty,” I said. “Maybe even before I’m eighteen.”
“And I bet my Uncle Mark is gay too. He moved out to San Francisco to be closer to his best friend, Craig.”
I busied myself picking up candy wrappers and popcorn boxes at my feet. Why hadn’t I chosen a horror flick, or better yet, a Disney film?
“So, Steven, do you know anyone who’s gay?”
A hundred popcorn kernels choked the back of my throat.
“No,” I said. “Absolutely, positively not.”
The theater had pretty much cleared out by now, including the Swensons. I held up my wristwatch to Bree.
“Boy! Look at the time! We don’t want to keep Dr. Newel waiting. And you’ve got those important violin lessons to teach.”
Bree and Dr. Newel picked up their dental conversation right where they had left off. They continued all the way to her house. As we pulled into the driveway, the two exchanged phone numbers.
“Thanks for the date, Steven,” said Bree as I walked her to the door. “The popcorn was stale, but your dentist seemed real nice.”
We stood under her porch light looking at each other. It was my last chance to salvage this date. In fact, it was the most important moment of the evening. I knew what I was supposed to do next, I just didn’t know how to begin.
Luckily, Bree did.
“You can kiss me if you want,” she said.
“Of course,” I told her. “That’s exactly what I want.”
I took a few steps closer and closed my eyes. This was where everything would finally fall into place. Even if I had blown the entire date up to this point, it wouldn’t matter if I could pull off this kiss.
I aimed my head in her direction and leaned foward until our lips met. I waited for that physical attraction to start.
Maybe I was supposed to press harder.
Or maybe I was supposed to pucker more.
Or maybe I was supposed to rub my lips back and forth. The guys in the movie had definitely moved their heads back and forth during their long, intimate kiss.
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