My Redacted Life: Chapter 21

What could match as a follow-up to such splendiferous date as I’d had Friday evening? I think I whistled all morning, off key, of course. I went to the office, where a group had gathered to put the finishing touches on some project. They had found out about the date and wanted to know details. It got a little testy when someone asked an untoward question, but I shut that up right quick. This wouldn’t be a topic for jokes, now or forever.

I lunched at the Burger Chef hoping I might run into Brenda, or at least her severe twin. Nope. Just the usual Saturday crowd of folks sat around trying to cure a hangover from Friday night. Lucky me, I had neither a hangover nor unhappy prospects. I was beginning to believe the civilian life was better than the Navy. The food wasn't as good, but other things were better.

Back at the apartment, I had better luck. The girls were just getting back from having lunch somewhere else. They were all wearing shorts, although Brenda was wearing hers most spectacularly, I thought. There wasn’t one bra between the three of them. My neighbor was arousing particular attention from men on the parking lot. I only had eyes for one of the three, though. If she noticed, she didn’t let on.

They stopped to exchange greetings. They lined up three abreast (no pun intended) directly in front of me and queried me about what I had been doing. I struggled to keep my eyes elevated and my smile noncommittal. Then, as if following a screenplay, the other two left Brenda with me, exiting with knowing smiles. After they had gone a few steps, their heads turned away and I’ll swear I heard giggles.  Once alone, I asked Brenda if she might like to catch a movie that evening. “Which one?” she asked.

Which one? Hell, I didn’t know. I didn't care. What did that have to do with it? That woman had the best knack for keeping a man off-balance that I’d ever seen. I activated my storehouse of stupidity. “I’ll surprise you,” I said.

Not much of a movie.
But one fine date.

“I don’t like surprises.”

“Then I’ll check the newspaper and get back with you.”

“Do that,” she said. Then she sashayed away like Cleopatra leaving the royal barge.

The movie turned out to be one called Two-Lane Blacktop, a silly, but harmless, flick staring James Taylor and Dennis Wilson, two singers who couldn’t act their way out of a wet paper bag, and the immortal Warren Oates, who held the whole thing together. I think there was a girl in it but I hardly noticed.

As the great Paul Newman once said, "you don't notice hamburger when you're with steak," or something like that.

For Brenda and me, the film's main attraction was that some of it had been shot in Arkansas, more specifically in a part of the state with which we were familiar. This included scenes along Highway 15 near the city of England, Arkansas and the once-famous drag-strip at Carlisle.

It kept us entertained. When we had finished our popcorn and drinks, I ventured to hold her hand, a small step for me but a grand step for history.

She didn’t slap it away.