Friday, November 7, 2008

The Choice, Part II

Click here for Part I.


It was kind of cute that Mr. Blue Eyes asked her on a date through his sister. It translated in her mind to mean that he was shy, afraid of being turned down. A man showing vulnerability spoke to the womanly instinct in her to soothe and reassure and comfort. She almost couldn't wait for the date so she could, with her smile, lift his chin and his hopes.

Several times the day after the wuss date invitation, she thought back on it and felt flattered.

Friday evening, there was a phone call for her. She had been away at college, but had come home to earn money. She didn't know when she would head back to school. She had thought about serving as a missionary. In the mean time, she was living with her parents, working, and trying to figure out her future.

Her parent's phone was in the kitchen--the main thoroughfare and gathering place of the house. The only chance for limited privacy while on the phone was to cross the kitchen and go as far down the basement stairs as the oft-stretched telephone cord would allow. She took the phone and followed the familiar path to the second-to-bottom stair. Once there, she held the receiver to her ear and said, Hello?

Did my sister tell you the date was going to be tonight? It was Mr. Blue Eyes. He didn't sound shy or reluctant.

Umm, no. She didn't really tell me when it would be.

Okay. I just wanted to make sure you weren't sitting on the couch waiting for me to show up.

So, she wasn't going to be some kind of savior to this boy's ego, but . . . wait . . . she didn't have time to think or analyze. He was talking again. She replied. He laughed. He was witty and she was open to good conversation. Before either of them knew it, an hour and a half had passed. He asked if she was planning to go to a dance that night. She was. He said he would pick her up.


He was a nice guy, short, but nice. It is always good to make a new friend. She thought he might have been interested in her, but when they got to the dance, he refused to dance with her. He stood against the wall, by the refreshments, sat in a chair. After much prodding, he finally got up and danced one dance.

She was irritated, kind of hurt. She had built up the vulnerable man bit in her mind and Mr. Blue Eyes was not that vulnerable man.

A mutual friend asked if they wanted to come to her house and play some games with a group of people. After a pretty lame night, it sounded fun.

They got in the car and drove to the friends house. They began talking . . . and they talked . . . and talked . . . and talked. He was so interesting! Nearly every date she had ever been on consisted of her talking and her date saying, Yes or No or I don't know. He was a conversationalist. They talked about everything from books to politics, from movies to philosophy. Mr. Blue Eyes had ideas, he wondered, he questioned, he THOUGHT.

After three hours, she got out of the car. So what if he didn't dance. He talked to her. He listened to her. He would be a good friend.

1 comment:

  1. This post made me cry! Keep them coming!!