Monday, June 15 9:02 AM
Term of the Day: Raison D'etre -- Purpose for living
Some mornings you wake up with a sense of your raison d'etre. According to my mom's list, that raison should have been dusting the bookshelves. Of course.
I gave the bookcase a quick swiffering, at least until I found where Mom had hidden my phone (top shelf, beside a book titled WEBSITES FOR IDIOTS and a sticky note reading: Hint! Hint!). I started texting my friends. Craig: check. He'd contact Dave for me. Madison had a tennis lesson but she'd meet us later. Kiersten didn't reply.
Brady didn't want to skate. Was I interested in going to Jacob's cousin's to check out the new whatsit for the race car instead? I practiced the art of compromise. If Brady would skateboard with me that morning, I'd look at all the car thing-ma-who-sers he wanted in the afternoon.
What did I have to lose? No, that was totally the wrong way to look at it. What did I have to gain?
1. A chance for our whole group to have fun together (minus Jacob -- who I would conveniently forget to call).
2. A chance for Dave and Madison to realize how perfect they were for each other (without any possibility of first date foul-ups).
3. A chance for Brady to see that he had nothing to worry about (between Dave and me).
Happily ever after, here we come.
Or so I thought until Brady showed up ... with Jacob. Neither of them looked too pleased to see Dave Brown skate up behind Craig and me.
It wasn't awkward long though. The guys started doing their kick flips, their backside 180s, their five-0-s. I worked on my pathetic ollies. Everyone smiled. Even with Jacob around, I still had high hopes. So maybe Dave and Madison wouldn't fall in love, there would be other days for that. At least all my guy friends were getting along again.
Until it got hot. Really, freakin' hot. So hot that skating the three pitiful blocks of our downtown to get to the coolness of the coffee shop seemed impossible. We stood and we sweated. We sweated and stood.
"Have you ever been in the thrift store?" Dave asked.
I remembered hanging on my mom's arm there the year I was a mutant/princess/power pal for Halloween. But no, I hadn't been there lately. Neither had the rest of the boys. Nor were they sure they wanted too. In the end, a faded handwritten sign sealed our fates. 'Please close the door behind you,' it said. 'Air-conditioned inside.'
2:08 PM Thrift stores are cool, and not just because of the air-conditioning.
The first thing I noticed was: really, really, really, really, really old people work there. They talk slow. They move slow. I figured they probably thought slow too. Note to Self: Quit judging books by their covers. Even ones that are a little dusty might still have something fun inside.
The second thing I noticed was: the stuff they sell in the thrift store is almost as old as the employees. I was up to my elbows in a pile of ancient t-shirts when a silver-haired lady appeared beside me. She must have moved so slowly that I didn't register her approach. Either that, or the 'HELLO! My name is: GENEVIEVE' model of senior citizen comes equipped with stealth technology. She shook a grass green polyester jacket at me.
"This will fit you," she said.
I spotted Dave across the aisle, with an almost identical silver-haired lady next to him. She was shaking a cream colored suit coat in his direction.
He grinned at 'HELLO! My name is: PAULETTA', and slipped the jacket on over his Five Fly shirt. Once I stopped giggling, I pulled on the green blazer. Then it was Dave's turn to laugh. All the snorting and cackling brought Craig over. He spotted an old letter jacket with a giant 'C' on the front and 'Gordon' sewn in script across the back. A whole bunch of lol-ing later, the three of us let Genevieve and Pauletta pile our arms high with stacks of clothing. We took our prizes to the dressing rooms.
I picked a navy kilt, red and yellow striped toe-socks, jelly sandals and a Girl Scout beret to complete my ensemble. Craig found a letter jacket and added a pair of orange plaid pants. One of the old folks guaranteed the pants would "add five strokes" to his opponent's golf score. Ha. Who is Craig going to play golf with -- our dads?
Dave took a little longer to decide. "I don't know," he said from behind a swinging plywood door. "It needs something."
I spotted a hot pink, sequined tube top that had somehow survived the disco era. I tossed it under the door at Dave's feet.
"C'est parfait!"
Dave emerged from the dressing room sporting:
A crusty pair of green high top Cons, the cream colored suit coat, baby blue tennis shorts (so tiny the bottoms of his boxers peeked out) and a sparkling pink top -- which he used as an odd sort of cummerbund.
"Mercy sakes alive," Pauletta yipped.
But Genevieve kept her cool. "Young man, you look like a million dollars in that outfit but I won't charge you a penny for it," she said. "Now go on and get out of here. I'm sure you've got more shenanigans on your agenda."
Dave danced his way to the front of the store, blowing kisses at our new/old friends. When he got to the door he sang them lines from one of my favorite PaperKut songs:
Adieu, my lovely.
Though there's sorrow, it's sweet.
May our memories caress us
'Til the next time we meet.
P.S. When did Dave Brown turn into the perfect boy?
***
When did I turn into the world's worst girlfriend?
A better girlfriend would probably keep track of her boyfriend in a situation like this. She would have probably noticed, at least, if he'd left the store without her. I suppose, too, that a better girlfriend might recognize the crabby expression on her boyfriend's face when she found him waiting outside on the sidewalk. She'd probably stop herself before she pirouetted in front of him and asked, "What do you think?"
Maybe she'd even know how to respond when her boyfriend said, "I think you're not seriously going to walk around dressed like that. Are you?"
Alas, I am not a better girlfriend.
"C'mon Brady, it's not so bad," Jacob said. For a second I forgot how much I hated that kid. It all came back to me when he added, "She looks almost as pretty in her outfit as Davy does. Maybe we should double date."
You know what else? I bet that better girlfriend would not have to think so hard to figure out what to do next. I bet that she would not stomp her feet into place, cross her arms, close her eyes and squinch up her face like what she really wanted to do was slug somebody. Lucky her.
By the time I got myself back into semi-okay girlfriend mode and opened my eyes, Brady and Jacob were already gone.
"Where'd they go?" I asked.
Dave shrugged.
"Asshats," Craig said. "Who cares?"
I tried to find them. I did.
even a lousy girlfriend like me knew that was important. For at least five minutes I walked up and down the street, peering into store windows and down alleys. I probably should have kept looking but there's just something about hanging out with Craig and Dave that makes a girl forget all about what she should do. So, when Craig suggested we skate over to The Burger Barn to pick up lunch, I took one more quick glance around, then agreed.
And later, when Dave wanted to stop at the library, then head down to the park, I followed. It was nice. No worrying that I'd say or do (or wear) the wrong thing, no second guessing or considering how that better girlfriend might act.
We were sprawled in the shade of a gigantic oak tree, discussing the merits of late afternoon siestas, when Madison found us.
"Where have you been?" she asked.
I stretched and yawned. "Here and there," I answered.
"There and back," Craig added.
"Thither and yon." That was Dave.
Madison flashed a smile at Dave before she rolled her eyes at me. "Uh, you might want to get your thither together soon. Yon boyfriend awaits."
I sat up and yanked off the sandals and toe socks. I rustled through the thrift store bag for my plain old boring shorts. I ducked behind the oak tree and shimmied into them before I unzipped the skirt and let it fall to the ground. I scooped up the kilt and tossed it into the bag with the socks and the green jacket. I picked up my skateboard, shot a quick wave to Craig and Dave, turned to Madison and said, "Let's go."
"Hey wait," Dave said. "You forgot something." He held out the Girl Scout beret.
I reached for the cap but Dave pulled it away. He teased me with it, holding it behind his back, out to the side, above my head. I dropped the bag and the board. I jumped, and snatched the beret from him. He grabbed it back and used it to pull me in close.
"You don't have to go," he whispered.
"Yeah actually, I do."
I took his free hand, wrapped it around the beret, and snugged it close to his chest. "Keep this safe for me, k?"
<3
Author Note: If you get a chance, check out the sample of my new book, DATING ON THE DORK SIDE, written with my writing best friend, Charity Tahmaseb.