My Redacted Life: Chapter 20 (Cont._2)

People ask how our first date went. It went fine. I struggled with where to go. I didn’t know if she cared much for movies. I had seen them all anyway. There were a couple of fancy restaurants in Little Rock back then, but I had learned my lesson about spending big sums of money on dates that didn’t work out. Anyway, she didn’t seem like a fancy restaurant sort of woman, or so I told myself.

Actually, I didn’t know which Brenda would open the door, the free-spirited redhead or the severe “wig-lady.” I was delighted when I saw the former. She was wearing a pant-suit outfit that showed off her … let’s just say it fit her nicely. It had a red pattern that fit both her complexion and the color of her hair perfectly. Appealing but not suggestive is how I would describe it, or seductive but not slutty.

In short, she was perfect.

I had wisely left the top on the sports car and settled for an Italian place near the intersection of Cantrell and Mississippi. It was cozy but not stifling, authentic but not flashy.

In short, it was perfect.

We started to get to know one another over dinner. As I had guessed, we shared a similar background, rural but not redneck, an upbringing moored in modesty but not poverty.

In short, we were a perfect match.

She had gone into teaching because, “I didn’t know girls from my background could do anything else.” She wasn’t overjoyed with her position in life. She neither cared for kids as a sub-species nor teaching as a profession. She wanted to know what urban planners did, and on the third try I convinced her it was an honorable and interesting profession. “I see,” she said, but I could tell she wasn’t totally convinced.

She was, as Rita had told me, an only child, having served a dual role as her mother’s only daughter and her daddy’s only son. Yes, she drove tractors, didn’t every one? She had relatives up North, a favorite uncle in St. Louis, and a favorite aunt in the Chicago area. She had spent summers there babysitting and partying with a cousin who lived in a city close to her aunt’s. That explained the cosmopolitan theme that ran through her country-girl demeanor.

She had never been married. A high school boyfriend had offered her the opportunity to go to work after graduation, put him through college, and be satisfied if he just “told her what it was like.” She evidently told him to go … let’s just say she turned him down.

If a man ever mistreated her … after she finished with him, her daddy would kick his carcass clean out of the State of Arkansas. She said this as simple matter of fact, not as a warning. I didn’t get the impression that she relied much on warnings or threats. She seemed more like a direct-action sort of person.

Did I mention that she could dig
her own fish bait? With a little
help from her favorite aunt.

In what seemed like a few minutes, the meals had disappeared and the check arrived. She excused herself while I paid. When she returned a voluptuous layer of lipstick augmented her already perfect face. Her ruddy Irish-like cheeks glowed with promise. Her smile said. "I'm ready to be entertained, but that's it, Jocko."

I struggled with what to do next. Then I looked across the street at a small building sitting in the middle of a supermarket parking lot. An idea struck me.

We would descend into what passed as “hippie-hell” in Little Rock, salty but not sleazy, underground but not secretive, entertaining but not expensive.

In short, it was the perfect place.