Chapter 33: A Proposal Proposal

Saturday, October 19, 1985

We were up fairly early and on the road by ten. We had two cars this time: Cammie, Mel, Candice, and Sherry were following us in Angie’s car. Cammie spent far more time driving it than Angie did at this point.

Waco was about two hours away from College Station. There was a constant stream of traffic along Highway 6 all of the way. Baylor was currently ranked #14 nationally, while A&M continued to be unranked despite their winning streak.

I didn’t have much of a feel for this game. Still, Baylor was favored and deserved to be favored.

We talked about betting during the drive. The consensus remained: unless it was a really big opportunity (comparing risk and reward) and we were nearly certain of the outcome, sports betting was out until we were twenty-one. Villanova was almost the definition of this rule: huge reward compared to the amount risked, and we were nearly certain they would win.

After we were twenty-one, we might bet for fun or with lower odds of success. That was an open question. Angie and I saw things coming that we were unlikely to significantly alter (the Chicago Bulls’ three-peat, for instance). Those were years away, though.

Perhaps we would remember something. Until then, there was no point upsetting Kyle and Martin unnecessarily unless the return would be so big they would have trouble arguing with it.

That, and we were playing our ‘this is Angie’s bet, not Steve’s’ card this year. That was a one-use only thing. They would probably see it as a polite fiction. Even so, it was one they could respect.

The game was, pretty much, a mess. The Aggies threw interceptions, fumbled, and pretty much shot themselves in the foot over and over. We wound up losing 15-20, meaning any one of those turnovers might have made the difference.

I didn’t feel bad about it. Oddly, I felt amused. Baylor fans had chanted ‘Cotton!’ a number of times, meaning the Cotton Bowl, the destination for the winner of the Southwest Conference. I was virtually certain A&M, not Baylor, played in the Cotton Bowl this year in my first life, and I was still guessing they would get there ‘again.’

Oh, we had created ripples. Perhaps one of those ripples would knock A&M out of the game. Perhaps Andy would have a key fumble one day (he hadn’t played today), or perhaps Cal would miss a critical tackle (he also hadn’t played today). Or, perhaps, the people who would have been on the team if Cal and Andy weren’t would have saved the day in some game.

But I continued to believe A&M would get to the Cotton Bowl this year. I wouldn’t bet on it, but I believed it would be so.

After the game, we headed off to Austin, stopping in the little town of Salado for dinner. Long, long ago (and also well into the future), I and my wife and kids had eaten at a long-time establishment there: the Stagecoach Inn. I remembered it along the way and suggested it to the girls.

It wasn’t magical or anything, and wouldn’t be a favorite, but it was pretty good.

And, as Angie pointed out after dinner (thus saving me from a whap), this was now the first time I’d eaten there.

Once we were back on the road, Angie said, “So, tell me more about Amy. Or Amethyst. Or whatever. I get the outline, and Jas and I talked a little, but...”

“I’m curious, too!” Paige said.

“So ... it’s Amethyst,” I said.

“Figured,” Paige said.

“Except it’s not.”

Jas nudged me, and Angie said, “Explain!”

I explained about how Amethyst was ‘long,’ and she was ‘just Amy’ on her birth certificate, but she preferred Amethyst, at least for her nametag.

“She’s too nice,” Angie said. “It’s a girl thing. We apologize for things instead of standing up for ourselves.”

“In this case, Sis, I think it’s an Amy thing. The rules say you can call yourself what you want. They also say your name is the thing on your birth certificate. And so forth.”

“So ... she likes rules?” Paige asked.

“I’m just guessing. She strikes me as ... well. Let me not put labels on things. I think she likes rules to make sense of things. There’s a rule that says you can’t date more than one person at a time. Break it, and you’re cheating. Until I explained that I have a different rule that supersedes that...”

“I get it. So, she’s got conflicting name rules,” Paige said.

“She’s not at all a rigid person, I think, so much as ... just ... having some structure makes things easier,” I said.

“True for all of us, but it sounds like more,” Angie said.

“Probably,” I said.

“What else?” she asked.

“If I had to guess, she’s very seldom been on dates,” I said. “Or, at least, decent ones. Maybe some pro forma high school dates, the kind a lot of girls — and guys — wind up agreeing to.”

“Well, that sucks! She’s really cute,” Angie said.

“She’s ... tricky,” I said. “I suspect she confuses a lot of people. Add to that ... well. She’s in a guy-dominated major. She just switched from another guy-dominated major she didn’t like. That might bode well for invites, except I suspect she intimidates a lot of them. Looks, attitude ... studded leather collar...”

Angie giggled, then said, “Guy-dominated is fine. I’ve got that! I hope her new major is something she likes.”

“Hopefully,” I said. “She was in physics and didn’t like the abstract nature of it.”

“She would hate most of what I do right now!” Angie said, chuckling.

“Interesting,” Paige said. “What’s she in now?”

“Electrical engineering,” I said.

“Both of those are math. Just, ugly, reality-based math,” Angie said. “Abstract stuff is much more fun!”

“But clearly not for Amy,” Jas said. “Not for me, either.”

“I actually like ugly, reality-based math when it comes to finance,” Angie said. “It’s just ... some of the abstract stuff is so beautiful. I’m really impressed with the minds that came up with some of it. It’s ... seeing around corners and envisioning things in a totally new way.”

“I actually agree with you about abstract math,” I said. “Not that I’m switching to being a math major anytime soon.”

“Wise! There can be only one.”

I chuckled but didn’t say anything.

The chuckle was enough, though. Paige said, “That means something!”

“It’s got to,” Jas agreed.

“It does,” Angie said. “But, seriously, it’s not worth explaining. You’ll have to wait a couple of years or so.”

She let out an ‘oof,’ then turned to stick her tongue out at Paige.

“Back to Amy,” Paige said. “So. We were talking about her not dating.”

“Well, back up to high school. Or junior high. Socially awkward girl who sounds like Wednesday Addams, says weird things, dresses unusually...” I said.

“Oh, hell!” Paige said. “She would’ve been poison for years! If anyone dated her, it would be the sort of date that sent Carrie — not yours, Angie! — into a murderous rampage.”

Angie smiled a bit at that. Very different stories, but they had a bit of similarity we didn’t always think about.

“I’m sure it wasn’t nothing,” I said. “It seems clear she’s been on dates. Just ... lousy ones.”

“She’s got boobs and, presumably, other lady parts,” Paige said. “That’s literally all it takes to get dates in high school or what passes for dates in junior high. A lot of guys have one standard: could you fuck her? Maybe with a bag on her head, and maybe never admitting it to anyone, but...”

All of the girls giggled and nodded. I nodded, too. It was so obviously true.

“That’s what I’m thinking,” I said. “Some dates, but lousy ones, and about what she is, not who she is. And, now, I ask her out and it’s a nice date. I’m sure she has no idea what to make of it, notwithstanding that I explained myself.”

“This is going to be fun to watch,” Jas said. “You’ll treat her well and ... well, maybe she’ll come out of it better. That is, after all, what you do.”

“She should be who she is,” I said. “She needs a guy who can handle ‘strange and unusual.’”

Paige growled and said, “They’re at it again!”

Jas pinched me. Driving had its perks — there was only so much she could reasonably do.

“Guilty,” I said. “That one is a longer wait.”

“More worth the wait, though!” Angie said, followed by, “Oof! Oww!”

Meanwhile, Jas said, “You mean, a guy besides you.”

“Me, for now. Not in the long term. Unless it’s me in the long term.”

She giggled. “Well, yes, but ... you’re thinking of something like Jess.”

“There’s no agenda, just ... yeah. Jess is the best example of things not needing an expiration date.”

“Jess will expire when she expires! But she’s a special case,” Jas agreed.

“Jess actually came up a couple of times,” I said. “Not by name, but ... well, the first time was my telling her that I didn’t want to date Tiffany.”

“Tiff-a-nee!” Angie said, then giggled. “Heard about her from Claire a few times.”

“She said Tiffany was beautiful, or hot, or ... whatever she said ... and I told her I’d dated someone much prettier. She figured I was just being loyal to Jas...”

That got an “awww” from Jas.

“ ... but I made it clear this was someone else.”

“Oh, that’s funny!” Jas said. “I’ve never seen Tiff-a-nee, but yeah, Jess beats pretty much everyone.”

“Present company excluded.”

Three girls growled at me, and Jas said, “Biased! Seriously biased!”

“Hey! I’m entitled to my opinion. You, Paige, Angie, Jess ... all pretty much equal, in my biased opinion.”

“So ... girls you love,” Jas said.

“I’ll concede that Jess is hotter than Cammie.”

“Girls you love and have a chance with in bed,” Angie said, laughing.

“Mayyyybe,” I said. “She’s hotter than Mel, too. And Claire.”

“Anyway!” Angie said. “Where were we ... oh! Jess. Tiff-any.”

I snorted a bit.

“You said she came up a couple of times,” Angie continued.

I nodded, and said, “The other was just me thinking. Dating Amy is somewhat like dating Jess. It’s not going anywhere in particular fast, the conversation is the point, and I’ve got to be on my toes because these are girls with a lot of layers.”

“That’s ... rather high praise,” Angie said.

“I’m not saying she’s at Jess’s level,” I said. “On anything. Although I’m not not saying that. Way too early to tell. Jess didn’t start out exactly at Jess’s level. The longer I knew her, the more her levels went up.”

“Definitely,” Jas said, with the others nodding.

“But ... I think this is a girl who’s got herself wrapped up in different layers, and I’m not sure she knows what’s under all of that. In fact, I’m fairly sure she doesn’t. She is unquestionably smart. She’s funnier than she thinks she is, or perhaps wants to be, but ... well. Biggest fear of most people?” I said.

“Being laughed at. Duh!” Angie said. “And ... she got laughed at.”

“Yeah. Her default is probably thinking someone’s laughing at her, not with her,” I said.

“A challenge! One my big brother is up to.”

“My goal is friendship. Anything else ... we’ll see.”

“You keep overachieving on that,” Jas said, sounding very pleased with that.

I probably blushed. Nodding, I said, “I really want to see how she’s feeling in a few days. It was obviously a real date, and several girls in her dorm saw it. She seemed to think I was risking my social status ... or whatever ... anyway, that I didn’t need to make it so obvious. But that takes the fun out of it.”

“Goodnight kiss?” Paige asked.

I chuckled and shook my head. “I felt like she wasn’t ready. We managed a rather awkward hug.”

“That ... works. I suppose,” Paige said.

“Baby steps, honey. Baby steps,” Angie said.

“Honestly, she’s plenty cute, and the ... I dunno. It’s not quite punk, not quite goth, but ... whatever it is, it works for her,” Jas said.