My Redacted Life: Chapter 29 (Cont._3)

Here I was, in the summer of 1972. I had asked the most beautiful woman I had ever been out with to marry me. She had said yes. What do you think about that? More importantly, what was I to do next? I think maybe I kissed her or something. I can’t remember. My head was about to rotate, a funny feeling shot around in my head like a pinball bouncing off bumpers.

We were way out on the edge of west Little Rock overlooking the sun as it set over the river valley. I put my arm around her and we leaned against my car. She rested her head on my shoulder and we watched the last rays of the sun settle behind Pinnacle Mountain. I remember thinking that my life was about to change.

We rode back the apartment complex without saying much. I parked the Green Angel and we started, hand in hand, toward my apartment. “Don’t look now,” she said, “but someone is watching us from above.” She leaned into me.

I couldn’t help peeking. Vernell was standing on the second-floor balcony, her hands on the railing and a smile on her face. What was that all about?

When we neared my door, we heard a loud “Ahem.” We looked to see my neighbor standing in her doorway, allowing the light to shine through her sheer peignoir and looking like a marble statute. She grinned but said nothing more.

Do women enjoy mental telepathy?  I’ve harbored a suspicion since that night.

We went inside and I poured us two glasses of wine. I sat beside her and we toasted to whatever it was that was happening. We sat close together and didn’t speak for long minutes. Then she sipped her wine and moved away far enough that she could turn toward me. She broke the silence.

“I want to set a date as soon as we can,” she said.

This girl was anxious. She must really be in love. If she was in a hurry, how could I deny her? I considered myself a generous and empathetic fellow, especially for this poor lonely girl. My ego swelled.

“I won’t keep you waiting,” I said with raised eyebrows.

“Good,” she said.

“You’re not afraid I’ll change my mind, are you?” I can’t imagine what possessed me to say something so stupid. Maybe my mind was more befuddled than usual.

“No,” she said. She drank wine and set the glass aside. “I just want to get it over with before school starts so I don’t have to go through a change of my name with a bunch of third-graders.” With that, she reached for her purse and a package of cigarettes.

It wouldn’t be the last time she put me in my place, wherever that was.

Would she ever
come into focus?