To Protect My Honor

Emotional Stirring II

I can't decide if "whirlwind" or "doozy" is the word I would use to describe November. If anything, it just seemed like I always had something on my mind. Now, on the first Friday of December, I felt like I had nothing to do. And that was good. It was the first time in a while that I had nothing to do.

Of course, there were things going on in the world that I cared deeply about. Fourteen lives had been taken in an unspeakable act of violence two days before, only fifty miles away in San Bernardino. Coupled with an uptick in these kinds of attacks all over the world, my anxiety had more than enough to handle.

The highlight of recent memory, though, was Nancy's visit. We spent Black Friday together, as we did on Tuesday of that week. She seemed to be doing very well, and one thing piqued my interest especially.

On the eve of Thanksgiving, a cold day by Southern California standards, Nancy spent time with a young man named Ray, whose family her uncle knew. Given that they spent time on the beach in Malibu, an area I deemed romantic, I was curious about the status of their relationship. 

Especially since she told me about the experience, which to me sounded romantic. But who was I to judge?

My  discussions with Victoria continued as winter approached.  I had not told her anything to do with Nancy's visit, but it was on my mind all the time since then.

It was the following Wednesday, the day before my first final exam, that I impulsively messaged Victoria.

"Are you ready?"

"Ready for what?"

"I don't know," I typed.

"Well, how can I be ready if I don't know what I am ready for?"

"Fair enough."

"Haha, how are you," she asked.

"I'm doing well. Getting ready for finals."

"Ah, same."

"How's Texas," I asked.

"Warm," she said. 

"Same with Pasadena. It was 82 degrees today."

"Hey. Do you mind if I tell you something personal?"

"Go for it."

"I can be downright weird sometimes," I typed.

"Like, what do you mean?"

"I'm just atypical," I sent after finally deciding on the right word.

"Gotcha."

I remembered that I had to call my dad. He needed to know something.

"Hello," he answered.

"Hi, Dad. It's Milton."

"What's up, son?"

"Well, I want to come for Christmas after all," I said.

"I thought you said you didn't."

"I've reconsidered. If you can still accommodate me, that is."

"Of course I can. That's great to hear," he said.

After the conversation, I realized what was bugging me so much. I had to share what I learned from Nancy with someone. I needed to know if someone felt the same way.

I messaged Alexis.

"I have an idea for a story to write," I said.

"What is it," she asked in response.

I told her everything that happened with Nancy and Ray, to the best of my knowledge. She took her time typing her answer, but then said, "That does sound romantic."