Forever for a Year(38)

The only good part about not going to his race was that I could prepare for our date that night. I’m sort of kidding. I mean, what could I do for twelve hours? I did all my homework and I talked to Kendra, who kept saying, “He’s going to kiss you, he’s going to kiss you,” but she said it in this super-cute way that made me really excited, and nervous, but excited that I was nervous. Kendra was not as boring on the phone anymore. Which was weird. I thought I knew everything about her.

*

My dad had slept over at our house every night this week. It was amazing. I don’t know what else to say. It’s like we were suddenly this perfect family. Even more perfect than before he hurt my mom. He drove Kendra, Peggy, and me to practice on Labor Day morning. He did the dishes when my mom cooked and picked up bagels when she worked in the morning. Gosh. He was the best husband ever. And he was my best friend again. (Well, besides Peggy and Kendra and, I don’t know, could Trevor be my best friend too?) My mom didn’t know how to talk to me about boys. She would tell me all the boring stuff, like how I should get to know him “very, very well” before I got serious (she meant sex, which I wasn’t having until college anyway), and that I shouldn’t be alone with him in his house if his parents weren’t home, and that I should never allow him to be mean to me. (I wanted to tell her that she let Dad be mean to her, but I wanted even more for her to forget that ever happened so we could be the perfect family forever.) My dad would ask me all the great questions, like what we talked about and what I liked about him, and if I was excited to have a first boyfriend. Gosh. I totally loved my dad again and I felt sooo lucky.

*

I texted Trevor when I knew his race would be over and asked him how it went, except he must have done poorly since he just responded, “Fine,” and then, “We can talk about it tonight.” It sounded so serious and sad, and I didn’t want to talk about it at all. Except I did, because I wanted to be the best girlfriend ever. Gosh, I know, maybe the best not-his-girlfriend-yet ever.

So Trevor didn’t tell me what we were doing Saturday night and Kendra made me promise not to ask more than once, and I didn’t ask—well, only three times, but it wasn’t obnoxious, I don’t think. I JUST REALLY WANTED TO KNOW WHAT MY FIRST DATE WAS GOING TO BE. Kendra said that boys don’t plan things well, or at least her dad doesn’t, and neither does my dad, and so I’m like, I plan things very well, so maybe I should plan the date? But Kendra says I couldn’t do that until we were married. I laughed when she said that. But I listened. I didn’t try to tell Trevor anything. And then, in health class, the LAST class on Friday, Trevor said, “Let’s meet at Lou Malnati’s Pizzeria in town at seven p.m. and then, after we eat, we can walk back to my house. My dad agreed to drive you home at midnight, if you can stay out that late again.”

I loved this plan, though I almost said we should have dinner at five because then I could see him sooner and wouldn’t have to wait so long, but I bit my tongue (not literally), and said, “I can’t wait.”

Which was true. Because I really couldn’t wait. Except I did. And then it was six thirty and I was having my dad drive me to the restaurant even though it would only take two seconds to get there and I would have to wait even more.

So I never talk about what I wear because my clothes are so boring, but ever since the party at Peggy’s where Shannon showed me I didn’t look that horrible in a tight dress, I thought about clothes a little bit more. So on Thursday night, I had my mom drive me to Marshalls to look at dresses. That’s where we buy most of our clothes, which is fine, but, you know, it would have been nice to go to Macy’s or someplace a little nicer for my first date. But I didn’t want to make my mom feel bad for being poor. We aren’t poor. We’re just not rich. Gosh, I hope Trevor’s not going to think I’m so boring for wearing clothes from Marshalls. But I pretended he could never tell and I found this black dress that had some lace at the bottom, and straps that made my arms and shoulders look toned, not big. And I looked good, not quite as good as at the party, but maybe it was better this way since I’m really a classy girl.

My mom said, “It looks…” And I could tell she bit her tongue, like, for real, and then she said, “You look grown-up. It looks very … adult. How fancy will this date be?”

“I don’t know, he hasn’t told me.”

“I’ll need to know where before you go.”

“I know, Mom.” Gosh.

“Okay, well, do you really need a new dress if you end up going for pizza?” she asked. (And knew!)

“It’s my first date ever, Mom!” She saw my point and bought me the dress.

Except now I was sitting on the green bench by the cash register and every other person in the pizzeria was in shorts and sneakers and I had this black dress that made even me look like I had boobs and my legs were crossed and I had fancy black shoes with small heels so we could walk to his place after and … my gosh, I’d made the worst decision ever. I almost thought about calling my dad to come back and pick me up so I could change, but then I thought I would be late, and if I was even one minute late, Trevor might think I wasn’t coming and then, I don’t know, I could text him, but still …

Carolina, I said to myself, you look pretty. As pretty as you can look, at least. I’d even put on some eyeliner after my dad said I should. I’d said, “But Mom never wears makeup,” and he’d said, “Guys like girls who wear makeup. Not a lot. But some. It makes us think you want to look beautiful for us.” Did that mean Mom didn’t want to look beautiful for him? I stopped thinking about that before I could even tell myself to stop thinking about it.