I took her by the hand and said, “It’s better we didn’t meet in high school. The timing wasn’t right. You wouldn’t have given me the time of day.”
“Don’t be so sure,” she said. “I told you I was a stick as a freshman. I was anything but popular. Guys wouldn’t give me a second look, and people started calling me the poor little rich girl. The name stuck, and it even followed me to Central Valley.”
Trying to cheer her up, I said, “I’m sure you were a very attractive stick.”
She began to squeeze my hand.
“The boys in my school didn’t think so. My sense of self-worth took a beating. I felt so inadequate standing next to girls from the upper classes. It’s a feeling I don’t think I’ll ever overcome. Even today when I look into the mirror, I still see that skinny freshman looking back at me.
“Who could blame me? In all the years Eric and I dated, I don’t ever remember him telling me I was pretty. I told you all the names he called me. He had me convinced he was doing me a favor by going out with me. That’s probably why I stayed with him so long. As bad as it was with him, it was better than being alone.”
“That skinny freshman is long gone,” I told her.
She eased her grip on my hand and said, “I am so glad I met you. You actually believe that I’m gorgeous.”
She smiled as she said, “The night we met, you told me I was too pretty to walk the streets by myself. That may have been the first time a guy told me I was attractive. I just wished it was said by someone who didn’t have a serious head wound. Still, it sounded really good at that moment. Eric had called me an ugly bitch in front of everyone at the party. I stormed out the back door because I was too embarrassed to go out the front. I’m sorry you had to pay the price for him being an ass.”
I said, “He is an ass, but you’re a bargain at twice the price I paid.”
“Honestly, Randy, you’ve already won. Why don’t you give it a rest? So that’s how I started going out with Eric. He was the first boy to ever show an interest in me. He started calling every other night to ask about homework. After we had finished discussing school, he always found a reason to keep me on the phone for an hour.
“There was a big freshman-sophomore dance at school, and he asked me to go. I couldn’t believe a boy actually asked me out. I had to meet him there because my parents wouldn’t let me go with him. They said I was too young to date as a freshman.”
Jokingly, I said, “It sounds like your parents knew something, maybe you should have listened.”
She didn’t take it as a joke, “In hindsight, yeah, I should have listened.
“The next year when I was a cheerleader, two other guys asked me out. For some weird reason, I felt like I owed it to Eric to say no. He liked me when no one else thought I was worthwhile.”
“Loyalty is a measure of your character,” I told her.
“It wasn’t really loyalty. He was on the football team that year. The guys who asked me out were football players. I couldn’t respect someone who would do that to a teammate.”
There was a pause in the conversation as we both finished the last of our ice cream. The last of the pink sky faded away, and darkness settled over us.
With her ice cream gone, she picked up where she left off. “The sad part for me was that the better he became at football the worse he became as a boyfriend. I had other options, but they were guys like Eric. They acted like I should be thrilled they were giving me the opportunity. A small mind with a big ego does nothing for me.”
“How did you both end up at Central Valley?” I asked.
Once again, she started to squeeze my hand. “Don’t even get me started on that disaster! College was supposed to be my way out. I had no intention of going to the same school. In fact, I waited until he chose a school before I enrolled at Central Valley. Then Eric changed his mind and decided he’d go to the Valley as well. He had such a good senior season in high school that he could go to most any college he wanted. I was so angry I almost withdrew.”
“I’m glad you didn’t,” I said.
Smiling, she said, “In hindsight, I am too.”
She continued her story as she tightened her grip on my hand. “It was so frustrating because guys wouldn’t even talk to me at Central Valley. At first, I thought they might have been intimidated because Eric was the big shot football player. They may have thought I was his property. After a while, though, I began to have my doubts. I started to worry it was because I was a stupid, needy, ugly, bitch.”
“Hey! Hey! Hey!” I scolded. “Don’t ever talk that way about the girl I love.”
It took her a second to realize what I meant, then she leaned her head on my shoulder. I was afraid she was going to start crying, and I debated whether to change the topic of conversation. I always knew there would come a day when she would need to talk about what happened with Eric. This was the day. Her grip on my hand became even tighter.
“Eric became a nightmare that would not end. He was an alcoholic by the time freshman year was over. Whatever feelings I had for him were gone. All I felt was an obligation to try and bring him back from the brink. I hoped the sweet kid who called me about homework might still be in there somewhere.”
With a smirk, she said, “Then I met you. Eric was drunk when I told him I didn’t want to see him anymore. His only response was to guzzle another beer. When he sobered up and realized what happened, he was plenty angry. Maybe he realized what he lost . . . or maybe he just didn’t like losing.”
With disgust in her voice, she said, “Like an idiot, I was actually happy for him senior year. He stopped drinking and finally became the quarterback everyone expected. It was as if he had finally grown up. It even seemed like we would be able to be friends. After all the years together that’s how I wanted to end things. Sadly, it was all an act. He was just setting me up for payback.”
Her shoulders drooped, and she stared blankly at the ground. Her grip on my hand became painful.
“When I woke up, I actually thought I was in your apartment. I thought I was with you and everything was okay. After a few seconds I realized who I was with and what he had done to me. I screamed, and he punched me until I stopped.
“I don’t know . . . maybe Eric took too many hits to the head. I never would have believed he was capable of hurting me so badly. I’m grateful you beat the shit out of him. He paid for what he did to me; that makes it easier to live with it.”
That may have been the first time I heard her curse when she was sober. I didn’t think she had the ability. She stared off into the darkness for a time.
Finally, she said, “I’m sorry I talked your ear off about the bastard. You said I could talk about him if I felt the need. I’m finished with life in Williamsport, I needed to leave the pain here.”
Her grip on my hand eased. As if she had turned the page, her smile returned and she asked, “How would you like to go see party rocks?”
Glad to have happy Meghan back, I replied enthusiastically, “Of course I want to see party rocks! But I have to ask, what’s a party rock?”
“It’s where we’d sneak off to when someone could get their hands on a keg of beer.”
I acted like I was shocked at the revelation. “Were you one of those bad girl partiers in high school?”
“To be honest, I was only there a couple of times. It’s a little out of the way, but I think you’ll agree it’s worth the drive once we get there.”
We drove about ten miles out into the boondocks. Party rocks was an abandoned quarry well off the beaten path. She parked the car and switched off the ignition. When the headlights faded away, the only light came from the sliver of a moon above.
With a mischievous grin, she said, “Let’s try out the back seat.”
Bottom of the Sixth Inning
The next day was Meghan’s graduation party, and her dad spared
no expense. There was a cavernous tent in the backyard with seating for a hundred people. The party was catered, and servers were constantly offering me food. Even though there was a full bar, I drank iced tea the entire day. All her relatives were in attendance. I didn’t want to make a bad impression.
It was Meghan’s party, and I intended to remain inconspicuous. I thought it would be easy. The previous year, very few people bothered to talk to me. On this day, most everyone sought me out and wanted to be introduced. I guess the word was out that I might be around for a while.
Monday evening, her parents exchanged their goodbyes with us. Meghan’s mom smiled at me and then gave her husband a dirty look. She said, “I hope you had a more enjoyable stay this year.”
My emotions were mixed as I drove home to Central Valley. There was sorrow that my vacation was at an end and excitement that my new career would begin the next day. Meghan was following me in her new car. It was loaded down with everything she and her mom bought on their shopping excursion. I was alone with my thoughts in the Pinto. It occurred to me that I had learned more about Meghan in the previous two weeks than I’d learned in the previous two years.
I couldn’t help contemplating our relationship. There was nothing overly complicated about us. For reasons that defy logic, I made her happy. I didn’t want to overthink her happiness. It just seemed that she couldn’t help smiling when we were together. Thankfully, my knees didn’t buckle anymore, but her smile still affected me. She was well aware of her power and loved using it to her great advantage.
We were happy being together, and for the moment that seemed to be enough. There had not been much discussion of forever. It didn’t seem necessary. She made it perfectly clear to me that I shouldn’t even think about taking a job in Nebraska. The job she took at Central Valley Hospital was not her best offer. Chet and Dolores were very perceptive. I would need to start saving for an engagement ring and a house.
Never having had a nine-to-five job I was intrigued with the concept. While studying to be an accountant, I even had expectations of one day working those hours. It wasn’t to be. Lesson number one in my new career was that the money was awesome, but the hours were awful. It was exhilarating to watch my bank balance leap forward each payday. The thrill, however, came at the expense of something known as a normal life.
Keeping my apartment was a relatively easy decision. It’s not like I was going to spend a lot of time there. With all the hours I worked, it would have been a waste to pay for space I didn’t use. Besides, the place came furnished, and I didn’t own any furniture.
After seeing Meghan’s new Camaro, it was more difficult to hang on to the Pinto. I made a point of not looking at the automotive section in the Sunday paper. Adding to the bank balance was a higher priority than driving a new car.
That’s not to say I didn’t splurge on a few luxuries. A phone and cable television were added to my apartment. I had grown up with four channels on a black-and-white television; I now had thirty channels in my cable package. If it wasn’t for the baseball games, though, I’d probably have canceled the cable and gone back to listening to the radio. How can you have thirty channels and find nothing to watch?
I also decided it was time to upgrade my wardrobe. A college kid can get away with wearing blue jeans and a t-shirt every day. As a budding restaurateur and businessman, I felt it was necessary to do a little better. Each payday I stopped at Goldman’s to see what was new.
One thing you could say about Mrs. Goldman was that she never forgot a favor. After her husband died, Chet sent breakfast, lunch, and dinner over to her for days. Even though she had plenty of money, he wouldn’t take a dime from her.
Chet and Mrs. Goldman were neighbors. She didn’t like driving in the snow, so Chet often drove her to and from work when the weather was bad. He even had me drive her when he was too busy. Every time I shopped at Goldman’s, she waited on me personally. No matter what I bought, it was always on sale.
Keeping the Grill open longer was Chet’s reason for hiring me. We discussed the best ways to do more business. Chet started opening an hour earlier each morning. We also stayed open two hours later Monday to Thursday. I came in at noon and usually had an hour or two of bookkeeping to do before taking over at the grill. Closing time was nine and I was out by ten.
From my experience as a student, I knew college kids were always looking for somewhere to go Friday and Saturday nights. Curfew required house parties to break up at midnight. After the parties broke up, not everyone could go to a bar.
Like the fool I have often been accused of being, I volunteered to work until one o’clock on Friday and Saturday nights. Staying open late on weekends was profitable. There were plenty of drunk, hungry college kids and even a few high school kids roaming around town. As a student, I’d never fully appreciated how annoying drunken college kids could be, but, annoying or not, they had money to spend, so I tolerated them. The one o’clock close often became two o’clock.
In exchange for giving up my Friday and Saturday nights, Chet gave me Sunday off. I talked him into taking Mondays off and worked open to close for him. It took some doing to convince Chet to make a few upgrades to the restaurant. We argued over installing a television. He believed customers enjoyed conversation with their meal. It was my opinion that customers would have more to discuss if they could see the morning news with their breakfast. I also believed that the second shift cook would love watching baseball games on summer evenings. Additionally, a jukebox added a little entertainment for the late-night crowd.
One of my other ideas was to stay open all night during finals week. I remembered pulling all-nighters while cramming for exams. There were plenty of times I would have killed for a cup of coffee and a sandwich in the middle of the night. We each worked twelve-hour shifts to keep the caffeine and food flowing.
The odd hours didn’t make a big difference in my social life. Being new at the hospital, Meghan frequently had to work second or third shift. Since some people insisted on being sick on weekends, she often had to work Saturday and Sunday. Chet took an interest in making sure Meghan and I had time together. He often switched our schedules for a day or two so Meghan and I could see each other.
We still had friends on campus. TM had a year to go after losing time to the army. Meghan had friends in her sorority and on the cheerleading squad. We’d go to a few football games and occasionally meet up with people, but that was about the extent of our outside social life. The idea of attending a keg party and fighting fifty other people for access to the tap suddenly seemed childish.
Due to our work schedules, a date often involved breakfast or lunch. We spent more time watching television together than going out on the town. If we got a night out at Donny’s, it was midweek.
There was a profitable side to Meghan’s work schedule. She complained that the hospital cafeteria closed at seven o’clock in the evening. Often, on second shift, she didn’t get a break in time to eat. If she worked third shift, there was nowhere at all to eat.
From the restaurant I could drive to the hospital and back in five minutes. One Friday, while working late, I made Meghan a sandwich and brought it up to her at the hospital. The next night she phoned in a half dozen orders for her coworkers. The following Friday it was a dozen orders, and the night after that it was two dozen.
Seeing an obvious business opportunity, I had some menus printed. Meghan circulated them to her colleagues, and we began a regular delivery service to the hospital employees. If we couldn’t deliver, a security guard came down to pick up the orders. It made me believe there was more business waiting to be found.
As the summer faded into fall, my Phillies made the improbable look possible. They had progressed through the playoffs and were in the World Series. They had teased their long-suffering fans in the past. Just as when I had my first date with Meghan, I didn’t want to get my hopes up.
She became so
mething of a Phillies fan during their playoff run. We watched as many games together as our schedules would allow. If I was working, she would sit at Chet’s and watch on the new television. When we were both off, we’d go to Donny’s.
The Phils finally came through in the clutch. I will always remember the feeling of astonishment as the last out was recorded for the franchise’s first championship. I was too stunned to cheer. Everyone around me was going nuts while I just stared at the television.
If the Phillies could win the World Series, anything was possible. A week after the Phillies win, I made up an excuse to walk down Main Street with Meghan. We passed by Main Street Jewelers, and I slowed to look at the engagement ring display in the window.
She took the bait. With a sarcastic tone, Meghan asked, “Looking for anything in particular?”
Trying to sound disinterested, I said, “I don’t see anything as dazzling as your smile. What do you think of them?”
“It’s difficult to tell from here. Maybe we should go in and take a closer look,” she nonchalantly replied.
Calling her bluff, I said, “Alright, let’s go see.”
I felt her hands clamp down on my arm like a vice. She was shaking nervously, or maybe it was my arm shaking nervously. I was so nervous I couldn’t tell.
“Are you serious?” she whispered.
“Christmas is coming, and I suppose you’ll be expecting a gift,” I replied.
She loosened her grip on my arm just long enough to smack me on the shoulder. We spent an hour looking and sizing. I got a feel for what she liked and what I would have to spend.
At Thanksgiving, I had the promised conversation with her dad. He and I walked outside for some firewood while Meghan and her mom were in the kitchen. I drew a deep breath, looked him square in the eye, and asked if I had his permission to propose to Meghan.
He laughed and said he had been expecting to have this conversation. Meghan and I were planning on spending Christmas in Williamsport. I told him I had bought a ring and was planning to propose over the holiday. He told me he looked forward to it.
A Life On College Hill Page 16