And, of course, she sensed my
nervousness.
“ What wrong,
sweetheart?” she queried.
“ Ugh, I'm okay;
I'm just a little nervous.”
“ What about?”
“ I'm going to the
beach to watch the fireworks tonight.”
She looked a little
puzzled. “Why would that make you nervous? It sounds like fun.”
I lowered my eyes to
the table. “Well,” I started slowly, unsure if she was
going to approve of my plans, “I'm kind of meeting someone
there.” My eyes darted back up to gauge the reaction on her
face. It was blank.
“ Oh,” she
sputtered out, “well, that’s nice. Who's this person that
is lucky enough to escort you around the beach?” After asking
the question she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms lightly
across her chest, waiting to hear the answer.
“ The guy who
fixed my flat tire five months ago.” There. I said it.
She pursed her lips and
slowly nodded up and down. “I see. Well, how old is he?”
I knew she was going to ask that question.
“ I don't know,
Mom, like twenty?”
“ Twenty!”
she croaked out, flinging forward in her chair.
“ I'm not even
sure, though . . . he might be younger than that.”
“ Or older!”
she challenged. I knew she wasn't going to approve.
“ Well, if you
don't want me to go I won't. It's no big deal; I don't even think he
wants me there anyway.”
Her expression softened
as she saw my discouragement. “Oh okay,” she finally
said. “You can go, I guess.”
I perked up and smiled
at her verdict. “What made you say it was okay?”
“ Well I figured
if he doesn't want you there in the first place then he probably
doesn’t want to touch you at all, so, that’s a good
thing.”
“ Yeah,” I
chuckled, “I don't think there will be any touching going on
tonight, whether I want to or not.”
“ Hey now!”
she shot back.
“ It's a joke,
Mom. You know me; everything will be fine, I promise.”
She looked at me
tenderly and smiled. “I know. You are a very mature and
responsible young lady. I don't worry much about you at all.”
I cherished her
compliment.
Later that evening when
it was time for me to leave I pulled out Jonah's directions from my
purse and studied them closely. His handwriting was one step up from
chicken scratch, but I loved reading it. I traced my fingers over the
quickly written letters and imagined his strong hand holding onto the
pen. Boy, what I wouldn't do for his hands to hold onto me.
4.
Fireworks
I closely followed
Jonah's directions to the beach but had to go a little out of my way
to find a parking space. When I finally found a good spot I got out
of my mom's car and headed toward the shore to look for him.
The beach was
completely packed with people. Fires were blazing right on the sand
and were surrounded by people sitting in lawn chairs, huddled close
to ward off the cold. Kids scraped sand together and made castles
with gloved hands, almost as if they were playing in snow.
I shivered from the
crisp air and pulled my hood on. The sky was mostly clear, with the
exception of a few stray clouds. It looked like we would all be able
to see the fireworks above us, thankfully.
My hands found shelter
in the pockets of my sweatshirt as I scooted along the sandy bank.
Jonah was nowhere around, and I had the feeling that it was going to
be hard to find him among the crowd. A massive bonfire in the
distance caught my attention. Since I didn't have any idea where to
go, I decided to make my way toward the blaze, hoping to find him
along the way.
As I made my way over I
passed a small family of four sitting in lawn chairs facing the
water. They wore snow hats and big puffy jackets: necessary clothing
for not having a fire in front of them. The two young boys held
sparklers in their naked hands, waving them around and spelling their
names in the air.
The next group I came
upon consisted of rowdy twenty-somethings who reeked of pot. Most of
them seemed to be drunk, and a few of them were horsing
nervousness.
“ What wrong,
sweetheart?” she queried.
“ Ugh, I'm okay;
I'm just a little nervous.”
“ What about?”
“ I'm going to the
beach to watch the fireworks tonight.”
She looked a little
puzzled. “Why would that make you nervous? It sounds like fun.”
I lowered my eyes to
the table. “Well,” I started slowly, unsure if she was
going to approve of my plans, “I'm kind of meeting someone
there.” My eyes darted back up to gauge the reaction on her
face. It was blank.
“ Oh,” she
sputtered out, “well, that’s nice. Who's this person that
is lucky enough to escort you around the beach?” After asking
the question she sat back in her chair and crossed her arms lightly
across her chest, waiting to hear the answer.
“ The guy who
fixed my flat tire five months ago.” There. I said it.
She pursed her lips and
slowly nodded up and down. “I see. Well, how old is he?”
I knew she was going to ask that question.
“ I don't know,
Mom, like twenty?”
“ Twenty!”
she croaked out, flinging forward in her chair.
“ I'm not even
sure, though . . . he might be younger than that.”
“ Or older!”
she challenged. I knew she wasn't going to approve.
“ Well, if you
don't want me to go I won't. It's no big deal; I don't even think he
wants me there anyway.”
Her expression softened
as she saw my discouragement. “Oh okay,” she finally
said. “You can go, I guess.”
I perked up and smiled
at her verdict. “What made you say it was okay?”
“ Well I figured
if he doesn't want you there in the first place then he probably
doesn’t want to touch you at all, so, that’s a good
thing.”
“ Yeah,” I
chuckled, “I don't think there will be any touching going on
tonight, whether I want to or not.”
“ Hey now!”
she shot back.
“ It's a joke,
Mom. You know me; everything will be fine, I promise.”
She looked at me
tenderly and smiled. “I know. You are a very mature and
responsible young lady. I don't worry much about you at all.”
I cherished her
compliment.
Later that evening when
it was time for me to leave I pulled out Jonah's directions from my
purse and studied them closely. His handwriting was one step up from
chicken scratch, but I loved reading it. I traced my fingers over the
quickly written letters and imagined his strong hand holding onto the
pen. Boy, what I wouldn't do for his hands to hold onto me.
4.
Fireworks
I closely followed
Jonah's directions to the beach but had to go a little out of my way
to find a parking space. When I finally found a good spot I got out
of my mom's car and headed toward the shore to look for him.
The beach was
completely packed with people. Fires were blazing right on the sand
and were surrounded by people sitting in lawn chairs, huddled close
to ward off the cold. Kids scraped sand together and made castles
with gloved hands, almost as if they were playing in snow.
I shivered from the
crisp air and pulled my hood on. The sky was mostly clear, with the
exception of a few stray clouds. It looked like we would all be able
to see the fireworks above us, thankfully.
My hands found shelter
in the pockets of my sweatshirt as I scooted along the sandy bank.
Jonah was nowhere around, and I had the feeling that it was going to
be hard to find him among the crowd. A massive bonfire in the
distance caught my attention. Since I didn't have any idea where to
go, I decided to make my way toward the blaze, hoping to find him
along the way.
As I made my way over I
passed a small family of four sitting in lawn chairs facing the
water. They wore snow hats and big puffy jackets: necessary clothing
for not having a fire in front of them. The two young boys held
sparklers in their naked hands, waving them around and spelling their
names in the air.
The next group I came
upon consisted of rowdy twenty-somethings who reeked of pot. Most of
them seemed to be drunk, and a few of them were horsing
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