63: Firsts

"Mr. Clinton, this is Brian Frost."

"Hello, Brian." Did he sound exceptionally cool?

"Sir, I have been given the privilege of accompanying your daughter, Cassandra, on her first official date this Saturday."

"I'm aware. She told me months ago. I suppose there isn't much I can say about it, now. What is it you wanted?"

"I wanted to make sure my choice of activities would meet with your approval before I purchased the tickets. The Notre Dame Ballet Company is performing Cinderella. The performance is at eight o'clock. The total running time is just over two hours and thirty minutes, so barring delays or problems with leaving the parking lot, I should have her back near eleven o'clock. We hadn't talked about a curfew and I wanted to make sure that you didn't object to the ballet and that we didn't risk violating curfew."

"You actually called to ask me that?"

"Yes sir. Most of us have a midnight curfew when we are on a date and we take it very seriously. I don't want Cassie to start off her first date with a violation. I wanted to be sure it was okay."

"Brian, as much as I don't want to like you, you have always impressed me as an honorable young man. Your choice is very thoughtful and I'm sure Cassandra will enjoy it. Like Cinderella, she turns into a pumpkin at midnight sharp. Or she loses her slippers or something. I expect you to return her with her virtue intact."

"Mr. Clinton, this is Cassie's first official date. I know she has been to parties and ball games with our group, but this is a very special occasion for her. I don't want any memory of the night to spoil it for her, including your displeasure. I will never encourage or pressure Cassie to do anything that is against our rules, her religion, or your wishes. I plan to take her to dinner at Muffeletta before the performance. It's nice but not elaborate. I'll pick her up at six."

"Please drive carefully, Brian. She is precious cargo. Goodbye."

"Goodbye, sir."

I breathed a sigh of relief. I'd decided that I wasn't going to walk into a trap or lead Cassie into one on her first date. On the other hand, I sort of had to chuckle over the number of times we met in the woods to play when we were younger. Cassie had a streak of mischief in her a mile wide.

When we played our first game after the break on Friday, it was a different game for me. Seeing what Whitney was going through really set me on fire. North Manchester got some surprises when they picked what looked like the weakest target on the court to push around. It looked like I was going to end up a little bruised. At half-time, Coach Hancock pulled me aside instead of talking to the team.

"What's going on, Brian? Half the time you're out of position and you're mixing it up with their biggest players. I don't need you getting hurt." I'd made seven foul shots in the first half, so it wasn't all bad.

"Coach, I got a look at Whitney after the game Saturday. Not a peek. She showed me. Her arms, her leg and both sides of her ribcage were bruised black and blue. We've been letting her down when she's in the thick of it and she's getting creamed. The guys think they can muscle her around, but they can't. The thing is that even though she stands there like a rock, she's getting beat up."

"Why didn't she come to me with this?"

"She was afraid you'd start pulling her out and not letting her play as much. And I'm not taking every hit for her, Coach. I'm just trying to get her free to do what she does best. She's got fifteen already tonight and they are all three-pointers."

"You're in double figures, too."

"Yeah, but seven are free throws. Funny how the refs call guys who foul me but never when they foul Whitney." Coach looked at me long and hard.

"Maybe you're right. I need to review some film. I'm going to be shuffling Phil in for you periodically this half. Don't worry. I'll tell him what to do. Here's a new life rule for you, Brian. Share the pain."

Phil usually subbed in for either Barry or Whitney, so everybody was a little surprised when he started going in for me. Bert called the plays bringing the ball down court. While I was pretty good at setting picks for Whitney and taking the lump there, Phil looked almost like he was blocking for her on defense. Whitney's rebounds went up in the second half because she was always in the clear to grab the ball. We beat them by six. I like to think it was the two three-pointers I put up.

Cassie was so excited at lunch on Friday she could hardly sit to eat. Brenda and Rachel were giving her 'dating advice.' Sugar just had to add some urban advice to the mix. Even I turned red when Sugar said, "If I were you, I'd wear panties. On the first date."

"What are you wearing?" Brenda asked. Get right to the point.

"I don't know. What should I wear, Brian? What are we going to do?"

"You mean you let him decide your first date?" Rachel asked in disbelief. "Oh no! You'll probably go to a terrible movie or go riding on his horse. Samantha, that's a euphemism, isn't it?"

"I've been riding with Brian," Cassie defended me. "It was fun. Is that what we're doing tomorrow night, Brian?"

"Uh ... no. I was going to make it a surprise, but I guess that really doesn't work because you do have to know this stuff. Sorry I didn't think of that. We're going to go to Notre Dame to see the ballet. I guess we should both dress nicely."

"Ballet? You thought of that all by yourself?" Donna asked. "That's so romantic! How did you ever get tickets?"

"Well, I have a friend who is a student at Notre Dame and he got them for me. Is that okay, Cassie?"

"You're taking me to the ballet for my first date! I love you!" She gave me a big hug. I guess it was okay.

We were joined at the ballet by Reggie Martin and his date, Laurie. Cassie had never actually met Reggie, so it was pretty much like meeting two strangers at the ballet with whom we struck up conversation during intermission. Laurie was quite nice and disappeared with Cassie into the ladies' room to reappear seconds before we had to rush to our seats for Act II. Whatever it was that was so urgent didn't affect Cassie at all during the second intermission and while I had to go pee, she clung to my arm during the entire twelve minutes and I spent an uncomfortable third act. I had to make a pit stop before we could leave.

Remarkably, Reggie's car was 'parked over there' somewhere in the same direction as mine and they walked with us until we were locked safely in my car and headed for the exit. Old habits die hard. My conversation with Reggie had all centered around getting me to go to Notre Dame after graduation. Hmm.

We were in plenty of time, so we took a leisurely drive around town while we replayed every pirouette of the ballet. I pulled into Cassie's driveway at eleven-thirty and turned off the lights. The porch light was on, but there was no obvious sign that her parents were waiting in ambush.

"Cassie, may I kiss you goodnight after this wonderful date?" I asked.

"Hmm. Since you are asking permission, I have to assume that you don't mean a friendly kiss when appropriate but rather a kiss with intent?" Oh. I hadn't exactly meant it that way.

"Um ... that wasn't what I ... I was thinking more of a kiss with promise."

"A promise of what?"

"A promise to kiss you again."

"I don't know what that kind of kiss is. I mean I understand the friendly kiss." She leaned over in the seat and gave me a simple quick peck on the lips like she'd do if we were all in a group. "I get confused a little about the kiss with intent. Would you demonstrate that for me, please?" She leaned toward me and raised her lips. What could I do? I kissed her. With intent. A lot of it. We were both panting when we parted. "Wow. Yes. I could certainly feel the intent. My virtue barely survived intact. Oh, my." We both giggled a little. Like the first time we had gone to a party together, Cassie had held my hand all evening and had it firmly held in both hers. "Now that I understand those two, perhaps you could demonstrate a kiss with promise." I smiled at her.

"As you wish, my lady," I whispered. "I kissed her tenderly, lingering on her lips, sucking at them slightly, but not attempting to introduce my tongue.

"I see now. That kiss was very promising. I'd better go in now." She reached for her door handle and I scrambled out of the car and around it to hold the door before she actually put her foot on the ground. She held my hand as we walked up to her front porch. "What was the question again?" she asked. Huh? Oh.

"Cassie, may I give you a goodnight kiss with promise after this wonderful date?" I started to lean toward her.

"I really like you, Brian. And I had such a good time on my first date ever. I loved the ballet and meeting your friends. So I hope you understand and are not hurt, but I really don't think it's appropriate for me to kiss a boy on our first date. I have to say no. I just don't do that. I hope there is a second date, though. Goodnight, Brian." She squeezed my hand and opened the door. I saw the shadow of her father move back and away.

"Goodnight, Cassie. Thank you for a wonderful time."

Second semester, school started being more like school. Miss McNamara and Coach Hancock had a lot of coordinated assignments. Miss McNamara's second semester class was called Citizenship and we all breathed a sigh of relief that we were done with Health. The sum of our Health class had been 1) wash your hands frequently, 2) drink lots of water, and 3) be chaste and abstinent until you get married because otherwise you'll get AIDS. Citizenship was a little more interesting because she actually had a passion for community service and involvement and spoke frequently about our involvement in the School Board elections last year. Presidential primaries were coming up and Miss McNamara wanted us to choose a candidate to support and present to the class the platform for that candidate.

Coach Hancock taught US Government and Politics. First semester had been primarily about the Constitution and the branches of government. Second semester was about American political parties and the practical side of how the Government works. There was a lot of overlap. We even had a discussion—not a debate, according to Ms. Hammer—on the constitutionality of the two-party system.

It was my sixth semester of German with Frau Meier and I was spending more time with Sora as we read and discussed Kafka auf Deutsch. I had some weird dreams about The Metamorphosis. Nothing like turning into a giant cockroach in your dreams to help your teenaged angst. Shit!

And we were in the last month of JV basketball. Everyone was trying to figure out how the heck all the new classes would work when it came time for varsity sectionals. The draws would be announced in mid-February. We had some moderate success. Now that we were near the end of the season, though, schools were beginning to defend more effectively against the three-point shot. We were facing a lot more zone defense than man-to-man defense. I'd broadened my range a little. I was always pretty deadly at the top of the key, but that put me face-to-face with the center half the time. I'd managed to move around about thirty degrees left or right but still hadn't reached the straight edge shots with reliability.

After Coach Hancock reviewed the tapes we had of our last several games he saw that there was a tendency on the part of the opposing teams to identify 'the girl' as a weak spot and to play a little rougher around her. It wasn't as noticeable to the refs because Whitney's stability meant that she didn't just fall down and make a big scene when she got hit. I guess that's a disadvantage of 'becoming a rock.' Coach started moving us around with a new strategy. It wasn't based on always protecting Whitney, but on getting the fouls called. It reminded me of the way the ballet was choreographed. There were patterns that drew your eye to certain places. It was pretty brilliant and when a team realized that Whitney didn't miss free throws, they eased up on her.

We still weren't winning. Not more than two out of five, anyway. I had a Saturday afternoon game on the sixth and Rhonda and Donna hung around with me all morning before Rhonda had to collect. The weather was beginning to look like spring might come—the groundhog hadn't seen his shadow around where we lived—but Donna was still driving Rhonda around the route most mornings. I'd made an egg, sausage, and cheese casserole for our weekend breakfast and we were all sitting around the table digesting.

"Nona-Mom?" Rhonda said.

"What is it Rhonda-Daughter?" Mom laughed. The moniker was a new one, just like many of our friends had started calling Rhonda, Ronnie. Everybody was getting nicknames this year and there had suddenly been a revival in people calling me Brain-Trust.

"Um ... Donna-Daughter and I were thinking that Valentine's Day is coming up next weekend and ... well, it's a time to share with people you love ... and we were wondering if maybe you were thinking ... about going to visit anyone special that weekend ... because ... well..." Something was going on. Rhonda was simply never that hesitant about asking for something—especially with my folks.

"I think I see where this is going," Mom said. "Could it be that my two daughters are thinking that if Mom and Dad go off for the weekend to visit someone special, that you might be called upon to, shall we say, babysit Brian-Son-Boyfriend for the weekend."

"Oh! That would be even more fun!" Donna said. "I mean. That wasn't what we had in mind. Rhonda, tell them." It was obvious that Donna wanted to make sure that the story got out, but wasn't going to be the one to tell it.

"Okay. Well, we thought if you visited someone special that lived near or maybe with someone or two that we thought were special, that maybe you'd let us ride along and maybe by us being there to keep one or two occupied there might be fewer distractions for you."

"And how would you keep one or two others occupied, young lady?" Dad chuckled.

"Oh, we'd probably just go play in traffic," Rhonda said innocently.

"Well, Harry-Dad and I are going to have to discuss this," Mom said. Rhonda broke out laughing. When she laughs, she puts everything into it. "What is so funny?"

"I still think saying Harry-Dad is hilarious," Rhonda said. "It's like he's a wooly mammoth."

I was surprised Mom and Dad fell for it. Or maybe they didn't and just decided to play along. They were most concerned that I would have to pick my Valentine's Day date up in the truck so they could take the car to Kokomo. Donna stepped in and offered to loan me her car while they were gone. The only big disadvantage about her car was that the old Mercedes had bucket seats with a center console. But when she and Rhonda showed up after collections that Saturday, the car was immaculate. Even the interior smelled fresh and sort of new. Donna gave me a sweet kiss and the keys to her car.

"It has a full tank, though I doubt you'll be driving that much. Remember, it's a diesel and you need to let it warm up a little before you start driving."

"You're an awfully nice girlfriend," I said.

"How about me?" Rhonda asked. "Am I a nice girlfriend for getting your parents out of the house for the rest of the weekend?" She had a glint of mischief in her eye.

"You are the best girlfriend ever," I said. I kissed her softly and was surprised when she flicked her tongue out against my lips.

"Nobody's forcing you to do anything you don't want to, Brian," she said, "but I hope you'll make our girlfriend happy. She's been on pins and needles for two weeks."