Chapter 32: Zebras, Horses, and Unicorns

Thursday, October 17, 1985

The paperwork for changing the number of shares of P.C.’s Limited arrived from Kyle. He had sent three copies. I read one, signed all three, filed one in the safe, and sent one off to Michael’s lawyer in Austin and the other back to Kyle.

That finished my part. With a flick of a pen, I had gone from owning 100 shares to 1,200,000 shares. Vastly less valuable shares, but it was a very impressive number!

Tonight was weird. If there had been on-campus off-hours yell practices for other games, we had been unaware of them. Tonight, though, there was a yell practice for the Baylor game at seven.

Oddly, it was at the Grove. A normal midnight yell practice routinely got as many as 10,000 students (a bit over a quarter of the student body). I was pretty sure this crowd was smaller, but it completely overwhelmed the Grove (which was reasonably sized for a midnight showing of ‘Rocky Horror’) and spilled out onto the sidewalk, then onto the Drill Field. We got there early enough to be relatively close up, but there were thousands of students who probably never saw (or even heard) the Yell Leaders or the members of the football team who spoke.

We had no official date this week, but Darla went with us and was again included in my ‘kissing practice’ along with Jas. That amused many people around us.

Tomorrow, I would likely be explaining a fair bit of this to Amy. I was very much looking forward to our date. I hoped she was, too.

Friday, October 18, 1985

Jas wound up being my fashion consultant for my date. I found that amusing. It was hardly the first time my girlfriend had picked out my clothing for a date with another girl, but it seemed notable given who Amy was.

Would she even care what I was wearing? I thought yes, but in a different way than many girls would. Or ... well. Every girl (and most guys, to be fair) cares that their date dresses well enough so as to not fall victim to ‘please, don’t let anyone see me with that!’ Amy would, most likely, very much care that I took this seriously and put forth an effort.

Beyond that? I wasn’t sure if she would care all that much about the aesthetics of the look.

For that matter, I needed to guess what she would wear. My guess was something relatively goth-like, but not truly ‘goth.’ Amy wasn’t ‘goth,’ except in the way Wednesday Addams is ‘goth.’ I might reasonably expect a collar, leather wrist cuffs, lots of black or gray, and so forth. On the other hand, her hair alone gave her color, she was hardly ghostly pale (either naturally or makeup-created), and her attitude was unlike the stereotypical ‘goth’ attitude.

Jas and I settled on a slate-colored short sleeve shirt (it was still October in Central Texas and hardly cold enough for long sleeves, nor had I ever really liked long sleeves anyway) and black pants. That was more gothy than my usual look, but it would play well with nearly anything Amy was likely to wear.

Once I was all ready, we kissed and I headed off to my car.

Upon arriving at Mosher, I headed up to Amy’s door and knocked. It seemed to me as if at least one of the girls noticed, then quickly looked away. I suspected the gossip mill might be busy later, but who knew?

A minute or so later, the door opened. Amy was wearing a loose dark-green blouse, a tan skirt, and stockings that matched the blouse. A choker, but no collar. Close-fitting bracelets, but no studded cuffs. I had my suspicions about the whole thing, but ... well. We would see.

She looked me up and down. I was pretty sure the look I got after that was an approving look by Amy standards.

“It’s good to see you,” she said, using her ‘perky’ voice. I suspected ‘Wednesday’ might be her truer voice, but that might be wrong. I’d known people with some pretty deep-seated affectations before. That might the case here.

“I’m happy to see you, too,” I said, smiling. “And that you’re still alive.”

She blushed a tiny bit at that. As before, I think she was also trying to make sure I wasn’t teasing her.

“Shall we?” I said.

“Yes?” Amy said. I could hear the question lurking in her voice. I took it as a sign of how unsure of herself she was in this situation.

From behind her, I caught a girl in a much more colorful dress looking at us. She was smiling a bit, but seemed quite curious.

Amy looked back over her shoulder and said, “I’ll be out until...”

She looked at me. I shrugged a bit.

“A while,” Amy finished. After a second, she added, “Have fun tonight, Meg.”

“You ... too, Amy,” Meg said, sounding a trifle confused by the whole thing.

“And hello,” I said. “I’m Steve.”

“Nice to meet you, Steve,” Meg said, giving a little wave.

“Nice to meet you, too,” I said.

I offered my arm to Amy. She gave me an unreadable look, then put her hand on it lightly.

We headed down the hall, then into the stairwell. Once we were in the stairwell, she dropped my arm in favor of using the handrail.

Once we were halfway down, Amy said, “You didn’t need to do that. Now you’ve confused Meg.”

I chuckled a bit and said, “Let her be confused. It’ll probably be good for her.”

Amy hesitated, then said, “Yes! I like that.”

She said nothing until we got to the car. I opened the door for her, and she gave me a look that might have been a smile before getting in.

Once I was in, and both of us had our seat belts on, she said, “So ... I’m not sure what we’re doing. Other than talking, I guess.”

“I didn’t plan this date in a lot of detail,” I said. “My thought was somewhere comfortable and not too loud, and not trying to do anything like a movie. Like you said, it felt like the most important thing was continuing our conversation.”

She nodded a bit, looking unsure of herself. I doubted she thought I would pick up on it, though.

After I’d gotten the car moving, she finally said, “That sounds good.”

“I’m glad,” I said.

I really had thought about it in some detail. Swenson’s felt wrong for this. Too loud, too distracting. Anything much more expensive would be too much for a first date. On the other hand, something like Chinese buffet was likely too casual. The last thing I wanted to do was to send a message that Amy wasn’t worthy of a real date.

I found myself with competing goals. Amy needed to be comfortable or this wouldn’t work. At the same time, if she was too comfortable, it would be easy for her to wall herself off. My guess was that she was an expert at that.

Thus, I’d decided on The Grapevine. It was a cozy place, quiet and moderately lit. Amy in her more traditional attire would stand out there, but she would stand out most places in Bryan / College Station. For the most part, it wasn’t a studded-collar-and-cuffs sort of town. I’m sure there were places where the look would be more standard, but I wasn’t at all sure Amy would be more comfortable in those places. She might be fine with ‘standing out,’ but this didn’t seem like the date for it, especially since she’d clearly dressed so as not to stand out.

We stayed quiet for the five-minute drive. She didn’t seem to be the sort to need to fill silences with conversation, and I was fine with that.

When I pulled into the parking lot, Amy said, “Oh!” She looked at me, then added, “I’ve heard of this place. This is a ... pleasant surprise?”

This wasn’t the first time Amy had made a statement sound like a question. I could call it ‘up-talking,’ a term that wasn’t in vogue yet, but I didn’t think what she was doing counted. It was more of a sign of her being unsure of herself or of my reaction.

“I was hoping it would be,” I said.

She smiled.

I parked, then got out and again offered my arm. She looked at it for a few seconds, then took it.

I walked us in, getting the corner table I’d reserved. The Grapevine was only about half-full. We would have a fair bit of peace and quiet over here.

Once we were settled, she looked around and said, “This is nice.”

“I’m glad you like it,” I said.

She did something between a grin and showing her teeth, then said, “Perhaps I don’t. Maybe I don’t like ‘nice.’”

“Sorry for making assumptions,” I said. “So... do you like it?”

She looked around again, grinned a bit, and said, “I think so.”

“Well, then,” I said.

The waiter arrived and took our drink orders. Amy seemed surprised that I was just having water. Perhaps she thought I was going to push alcohol on her? She joined me in ordering water as well.

I ordered a fruit and cheese appetizer, and the waiter left us to look over our menus. It took her little time to decide, and I knew I was having a sandwich, so we were set.

Amy surprised me by immediately making small talk. How were my classes? How were my friends? That sort of thing. Along the way, I learned she was an electrical engineering major who had recently switched from physics because she hadn’t liked the abstract nature of physics, she liked Meg far more than Tiffany, she liked Claire more than Meg, and she’d liked it when Cammie and Mel came in over the summer and wasn’t at all upset with Mel’s hair color change, for all that she’d protested about Mel ‘stealing her hair.’

None of that really mattered, though it was all good to know. It felt somewhat like an extemp round, with Amy sticking carefully to topics she’d prepared for.

Just as she seemed to run out of topics, the waiter interrupted us by bringing the appetizer. We both had a bit of fruit and a nibble of cheese.

I decided to pull us back on topic (or, at least, what I thought was ‘on topic’) and said, “Still interested in picking up the conversation we were having when I asked you out?”

She blushed at that. Not only had I not expected it to make her blush, this was more of a blush than I’d expected. Interesting.

She stammered around a strawberry, finally saying, “I’d like to, yes. And ... well, I mean ... I still feel ... I mean ... I shouldn’t have accused you of being a cheater. That sucked and I’m really sorry about it.”

“It’s forgiven,” I said. “The signs were there...”

She shook her head a little.

I continued, and said, “It’s like the old joke: when you hear the sound of galloping hooves, you expect horses, not zebras.”

That seemed to really hit her, and she wound up laughing until she coughed. That amused me, but I really didn’t want her thinking I was laughing at her (people’s biggest fear!), so I instead concerned myself with asking if she was okay.

After she’d settled down, she said, face slightly red, “It’s fine. I just ... well. The whole thing struck me. Zebras, and I was ... well, I was being pretty black and white about things, right? Guy seems to be dating a few girls, so, by the rules, he must be cheating. And here you’re just a gray horse.”

That got me chuckling as well.

“I could say that rules are made to be broken,” I said.

“You could,” she said, “But if you can’t count on people to follow the rules, how do you know what to do?”

That rang a bell, one I tabled for now.

We nibbled a bit more of the appetizer while, I think, we both looked for the next thing to say. Surprising me, she was the one to speak first. What she said was also a surprise, though I perhaps should have expected it.

“You were pretty pissed off at me,” she said.

“I...” I said. Then I stopped and figured out what to say next. She had me, no doubt about it.

“You’re right. I was. Apparently, I don’t react well to being called a cheater. I think it’s because I feel very strongly about cheating. Meaning, I won’t be a party to it. That’s one of our rules, Jasmine’s and mine. It got below my conscious mind and ... yes. I got pretty angry.”

“But you didn’t say anything. You certainly could have.”

“Claire stepped in. And ... well. If you think of it as two wrongs not making a right, then ... yes, you accusing me was wrong. But it was well-intentioned and you had every reason to believe that. My lashing out at you would also have been wrong. I might have been justified, but we wouldn’t be having this conversation now, probably.”

She nodded slowly.

“So you were already thinking we might have this conversation? Even then, when you were pissed off?”

“You’ve always seemed like an interesting person. I didn’t want to put a barrier in the way of our getting to know each other as people, not labels.”

“Labels?” she said, raising an eyebrow.

“Cheater. Or, maybe, playboy. Lothario. Whatever.”

‘Lothario’ got a raised eyebrow and a bit of a smirk.

“And, vice versa, goth, or ‘Wednesday Addams,’ or ... well, you’d have to tell me how people have viewed you.”

She blushed at that.

“I ... um. It’s complicated, but ... yeah? Tiffany had some thoughts there.”

“Ah, but we both think Tiffany was an obnoxious airhead.”

She laughed, fairly loudly again, but only for a few seconds.

“You don’t even know Tiffany,” she said.

“I’ve heard enough to have my opinions.”

“Well ... your opinion isn’t right,” she said, grinning. “She’s obnoxious, but she’s only an airhead by preference. She’s got a good brain. She just didn’t want to use it.”

“That might be worse, I think,” I said. “I’ve got several friends who could get by without using their brains, but they work hard and make terrific grades.”

“Girls can get away with that,” she said. “It’s way too common.”

“These are guys,” I said. “Football players. Two at A&M, one at Tulane.”

“Oh!” she said. “Yeah, football players can get away with acting like they’re ... well, as my mother would say, ‘Dumb as a box of rocks.’ Some of them actually are, so you can get away with it if you’re not. Good for your friends!”

“I went to a pretty academically challenging high school, and the two Aggie players I know were in a study group with me and a bunch of other friends. Marshall, the guy at Tulane, went to a not academically challenging school, but his mama pushed him very hard to do his best, and he was also in a somewhat academic extracurricular.”

“Which one?” she said.

“Drama,” I said. “Jasmine, Angie, Paige, and I were all in both performance and competitive drama. They’re all better at it than I am.”

“A shame,” she said, but her eyes were twinkling.

“Nah. I was also in debate. Cammie was my partner, and that’s where we were better off focusing.”

She nodded a bit.

“Also, you deflected that pretty deftly,” I said.

She blushed a bit.

“Apparently not.”

“Nah,” I said. “It would have worked on most people.”

She chuckled softly.

“So...” she said. “Yes. I’ve ... I get some ... well, maybe this contradicts what I said before, but ... if I dress the way you saw me in the dorm, people react to me very differently. And ... yeah. It was like Claire said. Sometimes people think I’m all ... macabre and eerie. I meant what I said: sometimes ... well, as Claire put it, sometimes I’m pretty much ‘Wednesday.’ But, inside, my heart is rainbows and unicorns. It’s just...”

She sighed, shook her head, then said, “Never mind.”

“What if I want to mind?” I said. “I’m curious where that was going.”

“It’s not great date conversation.”

“That sounds like something that’s completely in the eye of the beholder,” I said.

She chuckled again, rolling her eyes a bit. It felt playful, not real.

The waiter interrupted us again, this time with our sandwiches. By mutual unspoken agreement, we tabled the discussion enough to eat about half of them.

After a while, though, I said, “So ... about what we were saying when we were so deliciously interrupted...”

She laughed a little, then said, “Oh, yes. These are good!”

Then she said, “You mean, about...”

“Whatever you were going to say after ‘rainbows and unicorns.’”

Her cheeks colored a little, and she said, “Well ... if you’re going to make me say it...”

She looked at me. Whatever she saw seemed to make her comfortable with continuing.

“It’s that ... maybe my rainbows include some whites, grays, and blacks at the ends? And sometimes the unicorn isn’t so ... healthy? It’s ... the dark clouds around the silver linings, those are a part of life, too. Maybe we don’t enjoy them, but they’re there. If we go back to Wednesday, she doesn’t necessarily want things to be dark and macabre, but she’s just as interested in that as the colorful rainbows and happy, healthy unicorns. Sure, she puts her dolls in a guillotine, but she also dances and smiles and wants people to be happy.”

That ... was interesting. It felt like she had really put thought into it. Most likely, because she had. This wasn’t a rehearsed topic, this was her life.

She apparently misread my pausing to think it over, since she said, “But, see? It’s lousy date conversation...”

“It’s not,” I said, perhaps interrupting her. “That was ... thank you.”

She blushed.

“‘Thank you?’” she said. “I mean, you’re welcome, but ... for what?”

“For that. It was ... rather beautiful.”

She blushed a bit more at that.

I continued, saying, “It was ... I mean, you’re right. In some philosophies, they acknowledge that ‘light’ has no meaning without ‘darkness,’ and ‘life’ has no meaning without ‘death,’ or at least ‘lack of life.’ Most people ignore that except ... well, when confronting darkness or death and trying to make the most of it, or a few other places.”

“What other places? You’re thinking of something,” she said.

“Oddly enough: wedding vows. It’s one of the few places where people say something like, ‘In sickness and in health, ‘til death do us part.’ It’s an acknowledgment that life isn’t all colorful rainbows and healthy, happy unicorns.”

“I hadn’t really thought of that,” she said. “Especially since people seem to often run away to sunnier places when their marriage gets a little on the gray side.”

“So...” I said, nodding. “If it was ... you know ... more black, and there wasn’t much hope of improvement ... that might make sense. Some clouds and rain, though? If you thought life was just going to be one gorgeous, sunny day after another, you probably weren’t serious enough to be making a lifetime commitment in the first place.”

She cocked her head at me for a second.

“This from the guy who can date as many girls as he wants.”

I chuckled and nodded.