From Festus, With Love
by Douglas Young
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Table of Contents parts 1, 2, 3 |
part 2
When Friday’s Spanish class at last arrived, Juniper and Huxley were each self-conscious enough not to look too interested in the other, but they enjoyed getting to pair up in a class conversational exercise and giggle their way through broken Spanglish. Huxley was relieved that the uber-confident girl was not a genius and could laugh at herself. Juniper was pleased that her kind classmate had a dry sense of self-deprecating humor and was not trying too hard to impress.
Their interaction went so well that, by the end of class, Huxley wondered if he should ask her out. But he dared not risk rejection, determined not to sour an otherwise joyful class or cast a shadow over the weekend. Nor did he want to look pushy or desperate. Instead, he fished for whether she was dating anyone.
“So what are you up to this weekend?” he asked as they left the classroom.
“Working and studying. Such is my exciting life.” She rolled her eyes. “You?”
“Alas, pretty much the same, I reckon. We live in a fallen world.” He sighed and she chuckled. When it was time to head in different directions on the sidewalk, they both paused, eager for the other to say something, but each froze. After a few awkward seconds, first she and then he laughed and said goodbye.
All weekend he wished he had asked her out, surprised such a lovely-looking lass was apparently dateless the whole weekend and reminding himself not to miss an opportunity, especially with such a bona fide knockout. Girls like her never seemed to remain unattached for long. With fervor, he resolved to ask her out, and soon.
Part of Juniper had hoped he would ask her out when they parted Friday. She already found him more engaging than the guys she had dated and, despite his being a little introverted, he exuded a remarkably open quality she found refreshing. If he’s too shy to ask me out, maybe I should break my rule and ask him out. So much for all those cute macho guys eager to go out with me but with little substance or dependability, she noted bitterly. Definitely not much there, there, to paraphrase Gertrude Stein.
The next week of Spanish class continued to go well for Juniper and Huxley. They got to class earlier and earlier to visit, first to chat in their seats between classes and then in the hall before the previous class let out. They appreciated each other’s humor and talked ever more uninhibitedly. Juniper especially enjoyed it when Huxley joked sotto voce during class, and he was elated to see her try to hide her laughter from Señora Fuentes.
By the end of Wednesday’s after-class walk together, Huxley sensed she would go out with him. Even if she turned him down for a date, he felt sure she would at least meet him for lunch as a friendly acquaintance or, he dared hope, a real friend.
“So would it be forward to ask you to dinner this weekend?” he inquired.
“That sounds delightfully delicious and, if you don’t, I might ask you.” A trace of a grin graced her face.
Before he could catch himself, his eyes widened above a full, toothy grin. She could not help giggling at his excitement and they agreed he would pick her up Friday at five o’clock for dinner at The Deep End, a popular seafood restaurant, followed by a movie at seven.
* * *
Arriving at her apartment, he was entranced when she opened the door, for she wore more makeup, an attractive green blouse with yellow flowers, and a white skirt. She was pleased he was on time, freshly shaven, and dressed well enough for church, sans a sport coat and tie. She thought of all the times she had dressed her best only to find her date unshaven, with his hair uncombed, and wearing a loose shirt, short pants, and invariably old sneakers. How refreshing, she noted.
“Wow. You look awesome,” Huxley blurted out before worrying he may have been too forthcoming.
“Why, thank you, sir. You look pretty swell yourself.”
When he opened and closed the car door for her, Juniper tried to recall the last time any man other than her father or grandfathers had done that. It felt good to be out on a date again a month after her worst breakup. But he’s still a man, girl. One step at a time, babe. Just one, she noted as she caught herself looking nowhere for an instant.
Though nervous to be out with such an attractive coed, Huxley was nevertheless more relaxed than on previous first dates, owing to Juniper’s coming across as so unpretentious. He loved her laugh, especially when he induced it, and he relished how casually frank she had been with him from the start. As much fun as they had already had on campus, how much better a time could they create now? But careful, boy. She’s still out of my league. So just be grateful for the evening, he cautioned himself.
Led by the hostess to a corner booth in the restaurant, Juniper evinced the slightest smile as Huxley waited for her to sit first. Another box checked, she observed. My, my.
Surveying all the exotic seafood entrees — Juniper was just relieved not to be at another chain eatery — Huxley amused her by talking about recently buying a can of “opossum” meat at a store in charming Chipley, Florida, on the panhandle.
“My cousin Sam asked, ‘Now, cousin, do you eat opossum with a red wine or a white wine?’”
“How about not at all?” Juniper got out between laughs. “Opossums are cool because they eat ticks, and they’re so ugly they’re adorable. So how was it?”
“Oh, man. When we opened that can, the ‘meat’ was all gooey, pale pink, and really smelly. So we just threw it out.”
“Wise choice. I suspect it could have been a culinary catastrophe.”
When their beverages arrived — ginger ale for her and lemonade for him — he sampled his and instantly realized it was made entirely from freshly squeezed lemons. The drink was so succulent that he took a full gulp and drank it slowly to savor the flavor, closing his eyes as if in the midst of a prolonged kiss.
“Woah, there, Huxley. Just what’s in that lemonade?” He passed it to her.
“Terrifically tasty indeed,” she confirmed.
The pre-meal conversation had a relaxed flow, and each silently marveled that it had been but nine days since they met. Huxley’s lobster bisque appetizer was so delectable that he unwittingly moaned while eating it, causing Juniper to giggle. Catching himself, he apologized profusely and she laughed louder than at any time since Señora Fuentes’ “hot flashes” reference.
After their entrees arrived, Juniper appreciated how Huxley neither ate with his fingers nor with his mouth open. I should thank this guy’s mom. When she complimented him on his table manners and detailed how terrible George’s had been, his face became contorted.
“So did you throw up at the table or get to the bathroom in time?” he asked with a look of mock horror, prompting her to laugh again.
“You’re too straight,” she announced.
Caught off-guard, he decided to make light of it.
“Ah, I just assumed you figured I was heterosexual,” he remarked with a look of concern.
“No,” she laughed. “I mean you’re too polite and proper. Don’t you have any bad habits or scandals to hide? I’d love to learn Huxley Madison’s faults. Lord knows, I’ve got plenty.”
“Well, as Abraham Lincoln said, ‘It has been my experience that folks who have no vices have very few virtues.’”
“Exactly. So what are your vices? Come on, Mr. Huxley. If you don’t tell me any of yours, I won’t share any of mine.” She raised her eyebrows and grinned.
“Well.” He paused. “In high school I once got pulled over for driving 85 in a 70 mile-per-hour zone.”
Juniper laughed and clapped. “So what was your parents’ reaction?”
“They weren’t proud.” He sighed looking at the table.
Thoroughly loosened up, she steered the conversation to their romantic histories. As she suspected, his was way less extensive than hers, but she was struck by how friendly he remained with all his exes, even the one whose betrayal hurt the most.
Gently quizzed about his last girlfriend cheating on him, he paused and looked away before speaking slowly. “To me, she was my full moon... But I wasn’t even a crescent moon to her.”
“Oh, Huxley. I’m sorry. But it’s her loss. Don’t look back. You don’t still pine for her, do you?
“No, no.” He waved his hand and looked back at Juniper with a weak smile. “I did for a while. Not intellectually but emotionally. Thankfully, time healed my heart and it’s now been over a year. I am grateful for all the swell times we had, or try to be before the bitterness creeps back in to sour it all.”
“Boy, do I know about that,” she stated with emphasis.
“Somebody betrayed you as well?” he asked.
“Hah, in my train wreck of a dating minefield? Try last month.” She raised her eyebrows with a frown. “By a guy I’d been with for more than a year, someone I figured to have a right long relationship with, too.”
For the first time Huxley could recall, Juniper looked unhappy. Her eyes turned to her plate, and he detected a flash of anger as she stabbed a scallop with her fork.
“I’m sorry,” he offered in a softer voice. When she did not reply, he sought to cheer her up. “But I bet he’s the only guy who ever cheated on you.”
“That I can prove,” she noted bitterly. “The beau the year before just one day up and said he needed ‘some time alone.’” She rolled her eyes.
For several seconds, no one spoke. Desperate to lift the mood, Huxley tried to be funny.
“But look on the upside,” he said in a louder, more cheerful voice, prompting her to look up with raised eyebrows. “It’s far better to learn he’s a homosexual now than after you’re wearing his wedding ring.”
“Come again?” She put her fork down to look at him with wide eyes.
“Be grateful he saved you from so much more pain and humiliation in the long run.”
“How do you figure that?”
“Any guy who’d break up with such a gorgeous gal as you is, by definition, homosexual,” he declared with his best deadpan expression.
For a few seconds, she bore into his eyes to discern if he was sincere before bursting into laughter. Though he was not, he studiously maintained his best Buster Keaton stoneface.
“I’m not sure how on the level you are, Huxley Madison, but that’s right precious of you to say, and I do appreciate it. Seriously, thank you, Huxley. After all my endlessly analyzing every failed relationship — and lots of expensive therapy — just laughing about it is likely the best medicine.”
“The Rev. Martin Luther King Jr. spoke of ‘the paralysis of analysis,’” Huxley noted. “Anyway, I’m glad to state basic facts. As for the cheater—”
“George,” she snarled before putting her fingers in her mouth as if to vomit.
“Can I ask what you did upon discovering the betrayal?”
“First, I asked him if there was anyone else to see if he’d own up to it. But the bastard lied right to my face,” she said with a raised voice. “He was so convincing that he almost cried. That was the really scary part. When I informed him how friends had seen him holding hands with the little hussy, he then — and in a heartbeat — said, ‘Let me explain.’ To which I said, ‘No. Let me. I just dumped your sorry, lying ass.’”
“Not so loud,” Huxley asked in a lower tone leaning forward with a concerned look at other diners. “Folks will think you’re talking about me.”
“Ha!” she laughed before putting her hand over her mouth and lowering her voice. “Completely caught in his own lies, the next day the snake actually called and had the nerve to say, ‘As a fellow Christian, can’t you please forgive me?’ Before it even crossed his narcissistic radar to apologize. To which I replied, ‘You and I don’t worship the same God.’ Click.
“Then I proceeded to trash him to all our mutual friends so everyone would know just what a deceitful, two-faced dog he is. But I’m not the slightest bit bitter,” she winked and took a sip of ginger ale. “In fact, I was so mature about the whole thing that I painted ‘Cheater’ in large red letters across his front door.” She widened her eyes at Huxley and chuckled when his mouth fell open.
“Oh, my Lord. Did you get in trouble?”
“Nope. I did it at two in the morning. Since there were no witnesses, the cops couldn’t make an arrest.”
Riveted by a whole new side to her, Huxley cautiously asked, “You didn’t worry about getting caught or even arrested?”
“Not a bit.”
“Gosh, you really think it’s wise to seek revenge on such a loser, especially if it puts you at risk? Don’t you think jerks like George have so depleted their karmic bank accounts that they’ll eventually pay for their betrayals?”
Pointing a shrimp at him, Juniper replied, “If I was convinced there was a hell, I might well agree with you.”
“I’ve just always figured it’s important not to make unnecessary enemies,” he stated gently.
“No, it’s important to make the right enemies,” she replied with a mischievous grin.
Hesitating, Huxley finally spoke. “I’m real sorry George hurt you so much. If it’s any consolation, Juniper, you sure haven’t shown it. You project more positivity than anyone I’ve ever known.”
“Thanks, Huxley,” she said with emphasis and a soft smile. “Life goes on, and we go with it.”
“Grandma Madison says, ‘Well, they’s because-of folks and then they’s in-spite-of folks. With the first-uns, you’re happy because of ’em. With the second, in spite of ’em.’ And you’re definitely in the first-un,” he said with a raised glass.
“Aw, many thanks, Mr. Huxley. You just made my evening.” Juniper beamed and clinked glasses with him.
“I just hate how it seems that, whenever I’m cynical about folks, I’m never wrong,” he lamented.
“Exactly. Doesn’t it suck?”
“So have all your boyfriends been such disappointments?”
“Most.” She sighed. “I seem to get either entranced by hot macho daredevils who can be real exciting for a spell but end up being callous jerks, or I fall for limp-wristed, lame losers. You know, man-bunned, sackless soy boys who end up just wanting to be ‘friends.’ I guess I have a weakness for extremes... But I’m trying to moderate.” She winked.
Feeling a charge electrify his whole being, Huxley quickly suppressed a smile and looked at his plate. This could be working out pretty well after all, he speculated.
“I just long for someone with whom I can be completely honest,” Juniper declared. “Wouldn’t that be amazing? To trust each other totally, to be able and eager to share everything on your mind and have absolutely no secrets? Think how much stress that would eliminate. We could add another twenty years to our lives.”
Squinting his eyes and tilting his head, Huxley at last spoke. “I don’t know, Miss Juniper. Having, in effect, a Vulcan mind meld with someone actually sounds scary. Having all your thoughts exposed? Being completely emotionally naked? That could be hell.” He frowned.
“But with the right person,” she leaned forward with a confident grin, “heaven.”
He looked at her and nodded slowly. “Could be.”
* * *
Copyright © 2024 by Douglas Young
