Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ding-Dong

Ted was picking me up at six. I didn’t have the good sense to be nervous about having a date. I just told myself I was going out with a friend, because in my mind that’s what he was. Nonetheless, I did all the things to prepare that I’d watched Leslie do in our youth. The date ritual. Shower, hair, shave, moisturizer, and a measure of cosmetic enhancement. I wore a simple sundress and flat sandals that were a natural color. I borrowed one of Leslie’s purses and a spritz of her cologne.

Promptly at six, the doorbell rang, and I wouldn’t say I sprinted to the door, but I got there quickly. I didn’t wait the suggested three beats that Leslie did, like her three rings on the phone before answering. What was the point in delaying the fun?

“Hey!” I said. “Don’t you look nice?”

“You, too! Are you ready to go?”

“Yep! So, what’s the plan?”

“Dinner at the Shem Creek Bar and Grill, watch the sunset, and then I don’t know. We’ll see how late it is, I guess?”

“That sounds lovely,” I said and locked the door to the house behind me.

“Great!” he said and held my car door for me, closing it when I was comfortably seated with the skirt of my dress neatly tucked under me.

Ted’s car was precious—a Japanese import, red and loaded with gadgets. The lights were on at Archie’s house and yes, I had a moment where I hoped he could see me going out with someone. That’s right, Archie! I have a date!

Now, that whole southern thing about gentlemen holding chairs and doors for ladies might seem dated to some people, that the fair sex couldn’t manage a chair or a door for themselves, bless their sweet little heart-shaped peach kernels. To me it said a mouthful of other things—that your momma raised you right, that you had respect for women and deferred to them by allowing them to enter a home, a store, a restaurant, et cetera, before the man and then to take their arm and fold it over yours to ensure steady footing, and finally, it was just a tiny bit of refinement that wasn’t hurting anyone and made you both seem like you didn’t grow up in a barnyard, even if you did.

We were passing over the causeway and couldn’t help but notice the water on either side was almost even with the road. One more inch and the causeway would be a washout. Then, for a moment, I felt overwhelmed, as though something terrible was all around me, something as dark as death itself. I must have gasped.

“You okay?” Ted said.