My Redacted Life: Chapter 19 (Cont._3)

We pulled into the parking lot, Brenda and I, after our ride in my new car. She had agreed to go out with me. I think my heart was pounding. I still had presence of mind, though, to set a date for the coming Friday. She nodded, reached up, and undid the bun holding her hair. She let the long red strands fall and shook them loose.

“Call for me at seven,” she said. She opened the door, pivoted, and was gone. I stared into space for minute or two. I didn’t watch her walk away for I feared in doing so, I might faint. Then I got out and put the top back on the car. “What the hell have I gotten myself into?” I thought. Oh well.

Of course, my neighbor was just inside her screen door when I reached the building. She was in the process of putting on a pair of jeans and was halfway there as I approached. I stopped and looked the other way until I heard a snap and the sound of a zipper closing. Then I looked at her and nodded before she could ask. She did a couple of hops as she adjusted the jeans. “About damned time,” she said, wiggling back and forth to set the jeans firmly in place, as if they needed any help. “Her hair goes with the color of your car.”

“Yeah,” I said. “I noticed. Thanks for all your help.”

“What’s next?” she said.

“A date.”

“Well ain’t you the one? Where you taking her?”

“Any suggestions?”

“Maybe the Ritz Motel out on Asher Avenue? I had a first date that tried that on me once."

Was it time for some
serious contemplation?

I blushed and she laughed. “Seriously,” I said.

“Let me think on it,” she said. “Do you want to do the ‘serious young professional,’ the ‘hot-blooded veteran,’ or the ‘love-struck fool?’ routine?”

“Is there something in between all those?”

“You don’t understand much about women, do you?”

“What do you mean?”

“She ain’t expecting you to take her to a meeting of the Poetry Appreciation Club,” She said. Then she turned and bent over to retrieve a pair of sandals. I didn’t think her jeans could possibly stand the strain, and expected them to fly into a hundred pieces. Standing once more without a catastrophe, she slipped into the sandals. “I’ve done about as much as I can,” she said. “You’re on your own now.” She stepped back and closed the door.

Standing there, it dawned on me. I had no idea how to impress a beautiful young woman on a date. It had been years since I had last ventured into the world of decency as far as women were concerned. Life was about to crash onto me like a rogue wave. Would it be “gunnels awash?” I felt like I was a dog that had just caught a hubcap.