The irony of that summer was how the two of them invaded my life simultaneously and symbiotically. Both haunted by memories of girls who were lost to them, both looking to me as a source of consolation, and both wreaking sweet havoc on my game... and my heart.
That day was a perfect example of how life went with the two of them. After all the days of waiting on Parker and resisting Cole, everything had to happen at once. There wasn't time to pick one over the other; they both got to my heart at the exact same time, every time. Parker's message was short and sweet: he got my number from my dad, which I already knew; he wanted to see me. I knew that, too. I had almost given up hope, but then, when Cole's confession changed the game, he wanted to see me. What did it all mean? I didn't know but I texted him back later that night after I had a chance to recover as much as I ever would from Cole's news.
Wanna do something sometime? he texted back.
What does that mean?
I pick u up. I take u out.
We talk, hang out, have fun ...
He didn't put anything in there about sex. That's where a lot of guys failed because they started sexting right off the bat and I struck them out.
You want to go out with me?
Yep, yep :)
I have rules. You have to play
by them or I say no.
Your game I remember!
I'm down
Lol my game, you're the player
meh, not really much of one ...
too scrawny
Lol. You wanna call me?
Truth be told, Parker was a little on the skinny side, strong, fit and muscular, but thin. I learned later that he was self-conscious about it. He said his dad was the same way; when he talked about his dad his demeanor always changed. Something told me his dad wasn't good like mine was.
Two seconds after the text, he called. "I can't get you out of my head. You're stuck in there. I keep seeing you around the fire, dancing. You put a spell on me."
"Yeah, right!"
"Seriously, you did. So what's next? Your game remember? I passed level one."
"Oh, please. My game is sooooo not a video game. I hate video games."
"Really?"
"Yeah, they suck the life out of normally functioning human beings and turn them into zombies ... I hate the undead."
"You're awesome," he said, "Wanna know a secret?"
"Yeah."
"Do you think I'm going to say I hate them, too?"
"I don't know. Are you?" I asked.
"No, I love them. I'm playing one right now while we're talking. I'm addicted. I can't get enough!"
"You're joking."
"Yeah ... but I do play them. Does that disqualify me?"
"No ... unless you can't have a conversation without bringing them up. Don't even bore me with the titles," I yawned.
"So I still have a chance to level up then ...?"
"Nope, it's baseball, stud. You just stepped up to bat. My dad was the practice swing."
"Your dad?"
"Yeah, he approves all my dates."
"And you like it that way?" he asked, "How old are you?"
"How old do you think?"
"I thought like twenty or something. You're graduated, right?"
"Way graduated I'm twenty-two."
"Does he have to approve forever?"
"No, only until I find the one."
"Ahhh, the one ..." awkward silence. "I can tell you right now, I'm not him."
"Calm down, turbo, I'm not looking for the one right now. Well, I am but I'm not. There's no harm in having a good time with a good guy, is there?"
"You're saying I'm a good guy?"
"I have a feeling about you."
"Good. I have to see you, Tatum. I'm telling you, there's something about you."
"I don't get it."
"I don't either. I can't explain it. You're safe. Can I see you again soon?"
He said it like he couldn't go much longer. There was something about him, too. I felt it that night at the fire. I was losing, and it was my game. I had to keep my head in the game. Follow the rules, Tatum; follow the rules! I reminded myself.
"Here's the thing: you passed my dad; now you gotta get past me. I've been ruined with crappy dates. Dinner and a movie will so not cut it. I mean maybe, when I'm seventy, dinner and a movie will be a wild night out, but I've got spunk. I need to be wowed. If you want to impress me you better do something we'll both remember forever."
"Like what?"
"Well ... if I have to tell you, where's the fun in that?"
"What kind of dates have you been on? ... so I don't repeat and get thrown in the boring bag because it's already been done."
"Boring bag?"
"It's an alliteration ..."
"A what?"
"Literary term," he answered. "It's when you string words together that all start with the same letter. I like them."
"You're a writer?"
"Yeah, songs."
I remembered the guitar, the music, "Sing me something you wrote."
"Not so fast, girl. What am I up against? Give me the best date and worst."
"Oh, well, worst is easy: it was supposed to be a romantic back woods drive to a city look out one night. I was thinking soft music, sitting out on the hood of his car, looking at the lights and stars, but no ... it was an invitation to his back seat and he tried to score. Totally ruined the whole thing!" I said. "That could have been a best date ever and then ... no."
"Strike?"
"Ha! Try pop-fly straight into a glove. Dude was out!"
"I'm starting to think your dad was the easy one. Sounds like a good place to score to me."
"On a first date? That's for hookers." That made me a hooker with Cole, right? I didn't know why I even said that.
"Only if you get paid. If it's for fun ..."
"Having sex on a first date is stupid, not fun."
"Are you a virgin, then?" he asked. I could hear the smile in his voice.
"It's none of your business. I am what I am. What I'm not is the kind of girl you're to get on a first date." I refused to tell him that was exactly the kind of girl I had been.
"So you are a virgin!"
"You're pissing me off."
"Fine, fine, I'll stop. I can't ruin my chance now that I just got permission. I gotta see you. Anyone make it to first base?" he asked, "That's like a kiss right? I mean we're talking the same baseball everyone knows, yeah?"
"Yes and yes; plenty have made it to first. I like kissing ... a lot."
"Mmm. ... I might wanna kiss you this time." It was so sweet how he said it, but he sounded sad too. I knew it was because of the girl that stopped him before.
"Hmmm, I might wanna let you this time."
"Might?"
"Well, you have to impress me."
"Oh, yeah. You distracted me; we were talking about dates. Got worst covered; how about best?"
"Best is easy, but there are three, it's hard to pick which was the best-best." I laid down on my bed and let my left leg hang over the side and swing. I felt like a school girl. "OK so, best dates ever ... one boy had a song dedicated to me on the radio the night of our first date. He found a drive-in that was still showing movies and we drove there and the song came on while we were getting there."
"What was the song?"
"Meet Virginia ..." I answered with a smile remembering the night. The boy was Tyson and he owned the sweetest set of brown eyes I had ever beheld. I fell in love with him ... I fell in love with them all; that's why I had to play the game and follow the rules.
"Aha! You messed with his mind, too."
"I mess with everyone's mind. I'm an enigma ..."
"Yes, you are," Parker whispered, then continued in a normal voice, "but that was just a movie."
"But it was a cool way to watch a movie. He was creative, not boring and standard."
"OK, noted: you love long rides and novelty. I'll take it into consideration. Next one?"
"Well, the next one was this guy named Mark. He took me to a driving range and we hit like five buckets of balls and then he took me out to a golf course and we ate lunch there and played nine holes, which was good because I suck at hitting little balls."
"That's probably a good thing for me," he laughed.
"Is it? I thought you had big ones," I laughed back.
"Nope, I'm a wuss."
"Whatever. I think you're pretty cool." I laughed.
"Time will tell ... carry on," he invited.
I slipped my flip-flop off and balanced it on my big toe and dangled it up in the air and tried to spin it around, it fell and almost hit my face. "Well, then after that, he took me to putt-putt golf where I actually had a chance. I still lost, but it was fun. And then the other one was kind of a summer run of dates with the same guy. The summer I graduated, there was a guy from school--Juan—he had a list of things he wanted to do that summer and we did one each month. Zoo in June. It was the Woodland Park Zoo, long drive ... so you're right, I like long drives." I never realized it about myself until Parker pointed it out. I chalked it up to my wanderlusting soul. "We stopped at some old Podunk dive of a restaurant on the way ... there's your novelty," I paused, I laughed, but wondered how Parker already knew me. "He said they had killer pancakes—they were delicious! Then we spent the whole day going around the zoo. Water park in July ... he bought me a bikini and matching sarong and flip-flops and had them delivered to me at work with a bouquet of balloons. August we were supposed to follow the Patriots on all their away games within two hours of home ... but then things sort of fizzled."
"Why?"
"'Cause I have a tattoo of another guy's name on my butt and he saw it. ... Just kidding. I don't know. I mean I liked the plans and adventures ..."
"Ahhh, but he was too much into planning?"
"No ... not that," I lowered my foot back to the ground, remembering, "he wanted to steal third. I'm telling ya, I'm all about the game. You can't cheat or you get kicked out!"
"What is third again?"
"Well, duh, if the girls come out at second, all the rest is in play at third, right?"
I heard him sigh and laugh under his breath. "All the rest?"
"Well, not scoring. I figured that was a given."
"Works for me. Girl ... you're awesome."
"I know. My momma told me boys like a good challenge. I'm the best kind and I have to tell you, my girls are well worth the work to get to them," I teased. I shouldn't have but I liked him. At that time, I wouldn't have minded being exclusive with Parker.
"What's a guy gotta do to get to second with you?"
"That will stay a secret for now. I don't want to scare you away before we even go out ... but you can try to figure it out if you want."
"What if I don't want to go to second?"
"Don't play then. Nobody's forcing you ..."
"Calm down! I wanna play, but I need to go really slow. This is all new for me."
"Fair enough, but most guys don't want to go slow."
"I'm not most guys."
"You got me interested," I said.
"Ha! You've had me a lot interested since your little dance around the fire. I'm coming for you; be ready."
"Wait ... when?"
"Sunday."
"I'm a lucky girl! ... but you're not gonna get lucky."
"Good, 'cause I don't want to."
"Good, 'cause you're not going to," I laughed.
"What's your address?"
I told him; then we talked a little longer before hanging up.
We texted and talked back and forth between the days but Parker refused to give anything away. He said if I had my secret rules for the game, he could keep the date a secret. The anticipation and teasing was wonderful.
We talked more about my game. I let it all come out, except the secret parts, like the fact that I was one of the lucky eighteen percent of the population with herpes. He said he liked me even more for having a game. He said it made me safe. He didn't want to rush into anything; he wanted a lady's company. He never talked much about where he came from but said that growing up, his two best friends, his only friends, were Haylee, his girl, and their friend, Lizzie. He was used to being around girls and the Air Force wasn't exactly crawling with them. Parker helped me to understand that not all guys were like Cole, not everything had to end with sex.
The plan was to meet early on Sunday. He told me to be ready at four o'clock in the morning. Some girls might not have it in them to be up that early on a weekend but some girls weren't me, with an early morning job and a military schedule running through their veins. He said we wouldn't be home until late ... if that was OK with me.
"I'm a big girl; I don't have a curfew."
"OK, we're good then ... see ya bright and early, girl!" he gave a whoop as he hung up.
I laughed and held my phone to my chest, smiling, wondering what I was in for.
***
Four o'clock sharp I looked out our curtained front window; before then would seem desperate, but not a second after either, my dad said keeping someone waiting was one of the deepest kinds of disrespect. He was there, leaning on the side of his white Toyota 4runner, arms crossed over a dark hoodie, one leg kicked over the other. He wore simple jeans, no fades or holes, and well-worn hiking boots. Illuminated in the apartment's floodlight he looked kind of like James Dean, only without the smokes, tee shirt or pompadour, so actually I don't know what it was about him that reminded me of the rebel without a cause. Maybe it was the confidence in the way he waited, not anxious, rushed or insecure. He knew I was coming to him; he didn't force it—it was either that, or he didn't care one way or the other.
I grabbed my stuffed-to-the-seams gym bag and quietly closed the door behind me. The day before he gave me a list of things I "may or may not" need for the day, including: a bathing suit, towel, shoes to walk long distances in, jeans, sunscreen, a pen and paper, the book I was currently reading and a loaf of my favorite bread. The bread didn't fit in my bag so I carried it separately.
It was surprisingly cold for a mid-summer morning and I shivered when I got to him, goosebumps fully erupted on my arms.
"Hang on; let me get a coat."
"Got it covered, girl," he grinned.
He pulled off his hoodie. There was the white tee-shirt--he was James Dean, with hiking boots.
"I don't need it. I can go get something."
"It's fine," he said, trading my bag and the bread for his sweatshirt. His warmth, cologne and chivalry chased away the chill as I shrugged it on, and flooded my senses with memories of the night at the bonfire.
"It's supposed to warm way up."
"Oh, really," I smiled. He was so close; I wanted him already and the sun wasn't even up. I didn't know why he affected me that way.
He put his cheek next to mine, breathed me in deeply, and whispered into my ear, "I want to kiss you right now."