I'm home. I'm dressed. And I'm waiting. I'm pathetic, really, waiting right by the front door like some desperate teenager. Which I am. My makeup is done, thanks to Isabelle, and I'm already itching to rub my eyes and wipe it all off. I'd leave dark mascara tracks down my cheeks. My smoky eye would turn into a zombie kind of look and scare Thomas away.
Speaking of Thomas. He's not here yet. It's 5:55 and no sign of him. I know we said 6:00 but I'm wondering if the next five minutes will go by and then it will be 6:00 and then five more minutes will go by and then five more. Then he'll officially be late and will never show up.
I'm always on time. Early, even. Ridiculously early. Once, I had to go to this girls' house after school to work on a group project and I was an hour early. I waited in the car until some of the other group members showed up and then walked to the front door. I hoped I looked casual like I just got there but they probably saw me sitting in my car, doing some deep breathing exercises with my eyes closed. This is part my personality and part anxiety. What if I get lost and show up late somewhere? What if my car breaks down? What if, what if, what if. These are the words I live by.
So for Thomas to not be early says something to me. It says that he doesn't care enough to be here until the very last minute. It also says that he's not all that anxious to see me. What it really says, though, is that I'm nuts and that normal people usually show up on time and don't sit down the block in their cars waiting for the perfect moment to arrive.
My mother appears behind me in the front hallway. "What the hell are you doing out here?"
I jump and nearly fall back into her. "I'm waiting!"
She rolls her eyes. "Out here? Like, where he can see you through the windows in the door? You don't think that looks a little, you know, desperate?"
Once again she read my mind. But this time I don't find it spooky. I find it irritating and I roll my eyes back at her. "I just want to be ready when he gets here, mom."
She narrows her eyes at me and puts her hands on my shoulders. "Into the kitchen. Now."
She turns me around and marches me back down the hallway. I look over my shoulder back to the front door and hope to hear the chimes of the doorbell. I'm disappointed at the silence but I'm also telling myself that it's no big deal. So what if he doesn't show up? It's not like he really likes me.
My mother plops me in a chair and bends down to look me in the eyes. She looks irritated but I swear I see a smile behind it all. She thinks I'm amusing. I'm not amusing. I'm pathetic.
"Listen." I cringe. No good conversation ever begins with the word listen. "He's not late. If he were here by now, he would be early. You have five minutes until he gets here. Quit hanging out by the front door like a big weirdo and take a few deep breaths."
I lean back as far as I can in the chair and stare at the ceiling. It's not easy for me to take breaths, although my mother seems to think that's the solution to all my problems. It's like when you have a stomach ache and the first thing one of your parents asks you is if you've gone to the bathroom or if you need to.
I imagine myself breathing deeply while sitting on the toilet. It's a gross image but I can't get it out of my mind.
"Carter?" I focus my eyes to find my mother's face inches from mine.
I scoot my chair back a little. "What?"
"You went away there for a few minutes. What were you thinking about?"
I don't want her to know I was imagining myself doing some deep breathing exercises while in the bathroom. She'll think I'm crazy. Or crazier.
"I was just wondering where the hell he is..."
She opens her mouth to lecture me again when the doorbell rings. Saved by the bell. Literally.
I start to dash to the door but my mother flings her arm out to the side, stopping me in my tracks.
"I'll get it" she says very slowly as she walks down the hall. I hear my father's steps on the stairs and sink back into my chair. This is probably going to get worse if both parents attack him as soon as he walks through the door.
I watch my father walk past me and hear both parents nearly shout, "Thomas! It's good to finally meet you!" Like they've been waiting their whole lives for him to walk through the front door. He must think this is their biggest thrill ever.
I think I hear Thomas say something but I can't be sure of what it is. My parents are still speaking very loudly, drowning him out. Maybe they're both hard of hearing. They are getting old. My mom will be 50 in a few years and my dad is only a few years younger than she is but it's not like he's young or anything.
Or maybe, just like me, they're both nervous. They're not used to their only daughter going anywhere, let alone on a date with a boy. A boy she really likes. So, we're all nervous. Except Thomas. But what if he is?
It's at that moment that I realize I don't know much about him at all. When I get nervous or upset, I tend to make lists. Lists of the things in my room, lists of my favorite songs or movies, lists of all the clothes in my closet, and lists of my many pairs of Converse.
To calm myself down before my mom and dad drag Thomas into the kitchen where I'm currently pacing back and forth in front of the table, I quickly make a list of all the things I know about this guy.
I know he likes punk music. I know he flips his hair out of his eyes about four or five times a minute. You'd think that one would irritate me but I could watch it all day long.
I know he plays bass and does it well. I know he has a great singing voice but only sings backup for me when he could actually be the lead vocalist for our group. I heard him one day but he still doesn't know I was there. The band took a break from practicing and Isabelle, Eli, and I all went into the kitchen to get some water.
I went to find the bathroom and when I passed by the patio, I saw Thomas all alone, playing around with Isabelle's keyboard. He was humming and while I hid behind a column like some sort of creepy stalker, he started playing When the Levee Breaks by Zeppelin. His voice was so clear, so amazingly crystal clear, especially when accompanied by the keyboard.
I could have stayed there and watched him all night but I heard Isabelle and Eli coming down the hall behind me. Thomas must have heard them too because he stopped singing and playing and went over to pick up his bass.
Isabelle stared at me before we walked out onto the patio. "See something you like?" She whispered, winked, and pointed at Thomas.
I smacked her arm. "Stop!"
She laughed and she and Eli pushed past me to join Thomas on the stage. I didn't look at him for the rest of the night just in case he could tell I saw him during what was obviously supposed to be a really private moment.
And now here he is, in my house, trying to politely get away from my parents. I look up and see that he's now standing in the kitchen with my parents on either side. From the looks on their faces, I can tell that they've been watching me daydream and undoubtedly mutter to myself for a few minutes now. I should be embarrassed but I'm not. My parents have done enough of that for our entire family for today. What could I possibly do to outdo them?
I shouldn't have asked.
"Hi!" I practically scream at them.
Or, really, at Thomas. His head snaps back like I slapped him but, to my amazement, he starts laughing. Truly laughing, not some little nervous chuckle or anything like that. I'm not sure why he finds my lack of volume control so funny but I start laughing too. I can't help it. When I'm around him I feel nervous but happy. I'm going to hold on to the happy as long as I can and try to push the nervous to the back of my mind where I keep my other fears and weird thoughts.
How did I not notice how incredible his smile was? His mouth pulls up at one corner and he doesn't just smile with his mouth. I know it sounds weird, but it reaches all the way to his eyes. They crinkle at the corners and shine with a kind of, I don't know. Wickedness? My grandma would have said that he has the devil in his eyes and I should stay away from him. Maybe she's right but I'm not going to stay away.
He looks back and forth at my parents and sees their confused expressions. This makes him laugh even harder and by now I'm doubled over and practically sound like a deranged hyena.
My parents, not ones to be left out of any situation, start laughing too but theirs is an obviously nervous laughter. They have no idea what's going on and that's OK. They think they know everything, especially my mother. Let them be a little unsure of themselves. It'll be good for them.
Once the over the top laughter subsides, my parents get down to business.
"Where are you two going? What time will you have her home? You haven't gotten any speeding tickets, do you?"
Thomas blinks rapidly at them before responding. "We're going to get some pizza-gluten free, don't worry, and see a movie, we should be home around midnight if that's OK, and no, I've never had a speeding ticket. At least not yet."
They stare at him for a second before laughing at his little joke. I'm afraid we'll all start laughing like idiots again so I grab Thomas' hand and pull him toward the front door. "Let's go!"
We escape from the house and I nearly sprint to his car, throw open the door, and jump in the passenger seat without waiting to see if he's going to be a gentleman and open it for me.
Before we speed off I look at my front door to see my parents frantically waving at us. I slouch down in my seat, put my hand on Thomas' arm, and whisper, "Go. Go now!"
He laughs and steps on the gas. As we speed away from my house and my odd family I realize he is laughing again and doesn't seem all that freaked out by my parents and their weird behavior. Either he's just as weird as they are, which would probably be the only thing that would scare me away unless he has a weird stalker ex, which would be a total deal breaker
We head to the pizza place in silence until I blurt out "Unexpected Hiccups!"
Thomas takes his eyes from the road and glances at me.
"You...OK?" He sounds a little worried like maybe I also have Tourette's or something like that. Wouldn't that be a bitch? Tourette's on top of all the other crap I have wrong with me. His eyes are darting back and forth, as if he's wondering if he can just dump me on the side of the road and speed away before anyone notices that I was ejected from a car skidding onto the shoulder of the highway.
I close my eyes to center myself. It's a trick I've been trying recently. Too much stuff going on around me makes me feel super anxious but let's be honest here. What doesn't make me feel anxious? Shutting eyes so tight until I can only see those weird bursts of color behind my lids is a way I can distract myself from the insanity of the outside world while I get my thoughts in order.
When I finally open my eyes again I notice that Thomas is still frantically glancing from the road in front of us, back to me, and then back to the road again. This tells me two things.
First, he's obviously a safe driver. Another check in the pro Thomas checklist I've been compiling in my head. And second, it makes me think he might actually care about what's going on in my odd brain. Both realizations make me feel all warm inside, right near my heart, but that second one, where I start to feel that he really might care for me. That one helps the flutter in my chest accompany that warmth. I could get used to these feelings.
"Sorry!" I practically shout over the music blaring on the radio. When did he turn that on? Maybe during my weird eyes closed trance. I just thought of that band name earlier today and wanted to tell you about it before I forgot. What do you think?
"I think it's weird." He keeps his eyes entirely on the road in front of him this time and doesn't look over at me, not for one second. I feel like a popped balloon with a slow leak and I melt a bit into my seat and stare out the window.
"Hey" he says as he gently grabs my hand. A spark shoots up my arm and my eyes dart over to meet his again. He slowly pulls into the parking lot of Vito's pizzeria and finds a space at the back of the lot. He kills the engine and turns to me, still holding my hand in his. It's dark back here and maybe I should be nervous but I'm not. I feel safe even though I don't know what's going to happen next and I can barely see him.
"It's OK that I think that band name is weird, you know. I think all of the names you guys come up with are weird. I like weird. I like you, don't I?"
I feel light headed and don't know what to say. Looking down at my hands, I mumble, "I like you, too."
"What? I didn't hear you."
I feel my face flush with embarassment until I look up at him to see him smiling. My heart lifts a little bit and I feel a sense of hope and promise for the first time tonight.
I shrug and repeat myself, this time a little louder. "I like you, too."
"That's what I thought you said."
It's hot in the car and I can barely breathe. Thomas' face is inches from my own and I close my eyes as his lips touch mine. The kiss is so soft that I barely feel it but it's there. Thomas is kissing me and I put my hand on his cheek and we just sit there together like that. It's over so quickly but seems to last forever.
He pulls his head back and looks through the windshield at the flashing sign on the side of the building. "Want to get some pizza?"
I nod and then find my voice. "Sure. Let's go."
Thomas jumps out of the car and runs around to my side, flings open the door, and holds out his hand. I take it and don't let go as we move on to the next part of our date. I'm not sure how it can get much better than that kiss in the dark but I have a feeling that it just might.