Paying for College - The Novel
Page 26
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I met Phaedra at the small mall the next day, the same one brothers, where I splurged on my girl with an expensive gift. Brothers, of course, I didn’t want Phaedra to see me riding the city bus, so I came an hour early and waited in the food court sipping mint tea.
After an hour, I entered Johnny Rockets – the old-fashioned burger place and grabbed a booth. As I walked through the doors, I entered simpler times in the 1950s, when gasoline costs twenty-three cents per gallon, a stamp was three cents, and an ounce of gold was thirty-five bucks. But, of course, customers pay contemporary prices to eat those nostalgic burgers and fries from a bygone era. Of course, brothers, I would be lucky to leave this place with fifty bucks still in my wallet.
Phaedra arrived fifteen minutes later and scooted in the booth across from me.
I asked, “How are you?”
She looked down while she played with her spoon and fork. “I’m okay.”
I reached over to hold her hands, “It’s been a while.”
“I know,” Phaedra said while looking around at the 50s memorabilia on the wall. “Do you remember the Nehi grape soda?”
“How I could I forget. Not my favorite. I remember my mom always bought RC Cola because it was cheaper than Pepsi.”
The waitress came to our table and wrote down our orders on her notepad. Then she left.
I let Phaedra’s hands go, and she started playing with the old-fashioned miniature jukebox at the table’s end. “You’ve got any quarters.”
I pulled out some coins and stacked them on the table.
She grabbed the quarters and fed the jukebox.
Then Dion started singing Wander around Sue.
“Speaking of music. I got you something special.”
Phaedra turned and stared at me. Then she smiled, “Really?”
“Of course. I think you’ll love it.”
I pulled out the picture frame with the Beatle’s album from the plastic bag. Then I placed the picture frame right side up on the middle of the table.
Her smiled deepened as her hands traced the picture frame, “Wow! What’s this?”
“What’s it look like?”
“An old record. But I don’t have a record player.”
“That’s okay. You’re not supposed to play this record anyway.”
“Why not?”
“Well look at it.”
“I see its’ the Beatles, my favorite group.”
“Yup. And it’s extremely rare.”
“How rare?”
“It’s rare enough that’ll you never want to take it out of its packaging. It’s a 1964 Capitol 45 Can’t buy me love.”
“So it’s expensive?”
“Yup.”
“How much?”
“It’s a gift.
Our food came, and I returned the picture frame to the plastic bag and placed it on the booth seat next to me.
I picked up my hamburger and took a bite while Phaedra poured honey-Dijon dressing onto her Caesar salad.
When I looked at her, she glowed. She loved her gift.
Finishing eating, we walked around the mall holding hands while she clutched the bag with the framed album in her other hand. She occasionally peered in my direction and blushed while her smile deepened.
As we walked by an upscale boutique, she tugged at my hand and led me inside the store.
I sat in a chair and watched Phaedra move from clothes rack to clothes rack. She would pull out a hanger with jeans and study it for a minute. Then she would return it and pull out something else.
A young sales girl who was very pleasing to the eyes walked over, “Can I help you.”
Phaedra turned to face the girl. “Can I try this on?”
The girl pointed towards the back of the store, “The dressing room is over there.”
“Great.” Then Phaedra grabbed a mound of clothes and headed to the dressing room.
I looked around. Then I fumbled with my cell phone and checked my messages. Perhaps I’ll play a smart phone game or two.
Phaedra reappeared with the mound of clothes, and she dumped them on to the sales counter, “Thank you, but none of them fit.”
She walked over, grabbed my hand, and we left the store. She turned to look at me, “I have class in an hour.”
“Great. Can you give me a ride to campus?”
“Didn’t you drive?”
“Nope. The car’s in the shop for repairs.”
“It seems like your car has been in the shop for quite a while now.”
“I know. It’s hard to find an honest mechanic in this town.”
As we walked out the mall and headed across the parking lot holding hands, I noticed a price tag sticking out from the bottom of her shirt.
I tugged at the price tag, “What’s this?”
She stopped and peered down, “I’ve must of forgotten to take it off.”
I read the ninety-nine dollar price tag, “Really?”
“Yes.”
“It’s from Glamour Boutique. Weren’t we just there?”
“Hmmmm.”
I tugged at Phaedra’s hand until we both stopped. I turned to look her straight into her eyes, “Did you shoplift this?”
Phaedra blushed and looked away.
“Phaedra, I didn’t see you pay for this.”
She let go of my hand and continued walking to her dark green Honda Accord. Phaedra placed the framed Beatles album into the trunk and got into the driver’s side.
I ran to the car and jumped in on the passenger side before she could drive off.
I continued, “You can’t steal things that don’t belong to you.”
“You sound like my father.”
“Perhaps your father’s right, or at least in this case.”
“It’s no big deal.”
“Oh, no big deal. I thought you said you wanted to be a lawyer? It takes only one criminal conviction, and the state will bar you from taking the bar exam. The state will not allow you to help seniors fill out voter registration cards.”
Phaedra looked over and shrugged her shoulders. She started the car and headed towards campus.
I opened the glove box and pulled out the album filled with music CDs. I spot a dozen hockey ticket stubs. I looked at her, “I didn’t know you were into hockey.”
Phaedra continued driving.
“Did we win any games? I think we won one game, but I haven’t kept up.”
Phaedra frowned and looked over, “We won two games.”
“Oh, I stand corrected. That should help our team get into the playoffs. That’s good. At least you are supporting the team.” I browsed through the stubs and noticed – complimentary – stamped in red across them. “Oh, that’s right. You know the water boy.”
“Captain.”
“Oh, I keep confusing the two.” I picked a Beatles CD - Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band and slid it into the CD player.
I turned the volume up, so we could avoid conversation. Of course, I didn’t want to make her too angry. It would be a long walk to campus.
She parked the car near the business building.
I looked at her, “Look, perhaps I been too drastic. I just don’t like you shoplifting.”
Phaedra kept staring ahead as if she didn’t hear me.
“I want to make this right, okay. I’ll take care of this.”
I reached over and yanked the price tag off.
Using my other hand, I turned Phaedra’s face towards me, and I leaned over to kiss her lips.
Phaedra turned her head again, and I kissed the hair on the back of her head.
I mumbled, “Thanks for the ride,” and climbed out of the car.
Brothers, what am I going to do with this woman? The next day, I returned to the mall and slipped the price tag and a hundred dollars into an envelope and dropped it into the mailbox of Glamour Boutique when no one was looking.
I didn’t care about leaving fingerprints on the money or envelop
e. How many shoplifters care enough to make things right? I may be a scumbag thief, but my girl doesn’t have to be. She can become the best attorney in the state.