A Little Christmas Spirit Page 2

  Like to? No, he had to.

  She looked his way and shared that smile with him. It was a friendly one. It said Come on, take a chance. Maybe she wasn’t so stuck-up. Maybe there was hope.

  “I’m gonna go talk to her,” Stanley said.

  “Whoa, man, slow down. You know you’re not that good with women, and that one’s not just a woman, she’s a goddess.”

  Yes, a mere mortal working as a gopher at a construction company was not even close to her league. Suddenly, like a gift from Cupid, a quote popped into his mind. Something from a poem he’d had to read in English class. ...a man’s reach should exceed his grasp, or what’s a heaven for? He’d never understood that poem before, wasn’t sure he fully understood it now, but one thing he was sure of. It was a sign.

  “I know, but I’ve gotta meet her.”

  “I’d better go with you so you don’t mess this up,” Walt said.

  She was way out of Walt’s league, too. Walt was short and no better-looking than Stanley. At least he had the gift of gab and a reputation for being able to charm the ladies. If they could get close enough for him to use it.

  Stanley was medium height, still filling out. He had brownish hair and an okay face—nice brown eyes (or so his mother always said)—but he was no Steve McQueen or Clint Eastwood. He was never going to get this girl. What was he thinking?

  That he wanted her more than air. He tried to put on a cool, casual front to hide his terror.

  Once they got close enough he let Walt start things out. “Hey, there,” Walt said with a big grin to the goddess. “That your dream car?”

  “It’s pretty cool,” she said and smiled at Stanley.

  “It’s okay,” said the other guy, stepping into the conversation. “I got a Chevy.”

  Walt nodded. “Yeah? What model?”

  His friend was distracting the competition. Here was Stanley’s chance. “Hi,” he said. “I’m Stanley.”

  The goddess’s smile widened. “I’m Carol. This is my sister, Amy. That’s her boyfriend, Jimmy.”

  She wasn’t taken. Was it truly possible? Ask. The words turned into cement and lodged in his mouth.

  He cleared his throat. “You into cars?” You dumb shit. Of course she’s into cars. Otherwise she wouldn’t be here. He started to sweat, and it had nothing to do with the July heat.

  “I think they’re fun to look at. I like cute little sports cars, and I love red ones.” She moved a little away from the others, took a nibble of her corn dog. Stanley followed her like a hungry puppy. “One of my friends at Lincoln—that’s where I went to school—had a red Mustang. It was so cool. I think she was rich.” Carol finished with a shrug. “I’ll probably never have one.”

  If he had the money, he’d have promised right then and there to buy her one. “’Stangs are cool,” he said. “I’ve got a red car. A GTO. That thing can move.” Yes, when it came to cars, he could talk up a storm. But this wasn’t getting to the heart of the matter.

  “I bet it can.” She took another bite of her corn dog, waiting for him to say something else.

  “You still in school?” he asked. Another dumb question. Went to school. That means she’s done. So far he was not making a good impression.

  “I graduated this year. How about you?”

  “Last year.”

  “Where’d you go?”

  “Queen Anne.”

  “Queen Anne High School, on the hilltop,” she began to sing, and he chuckled.

  “You went to Lincoln, and you know our fight song.”

  “I went out with a guy from Queen Anne a couple of times. I always thought your school song was catchy.”

  She had to be going out with somebody. She was too perfect not to have a boyfriend. He couldn’t stand the suspense any longer. “Are you with someone now?”

  “My sister and her boyfriend,” she said, her smile teasing.

  He frowned. “You know what I mean.”

  “I’m not with anyone right now. It’s just as well, I suppose. I don’t want to get distracted. I’m going to U-Dub this fall.”

  The University of Washington. A college girl. Yep, totally out of his league. He’d have had better success trying to reach the moon in a paper airplane than getting this girl to go out with him. So much for poetry.

  “Guess that counts me out,” he mumbled.

  She cocked her head. “You sure give up easy.”

  “Look, I’m not going to college. I did okay in school, but another four years, that’s not for me. I don’t want to sit in a classroom and then end up sitting in an office all day. I like to build things. I like to work on cars. And I like to be outside, hiking or fishing in a stream. I’m no football hero,” he added. “I wasn’t even that good at track. I bowl.”

  Good grief. When did he catch diarrhea of the mouth? He could feel his cheeks burning, and he clamped his lips shut.

  She smiled. “I can’t bowl very well, but I think it’s fun.”

  He blinked in surprise. “You do?”

  “Sure. And I like to hike.”

  “Really?”

  “I also happen to like classrooms,” she said, raising an eyebrow. “I want to be teacher.”

  “Yep, you’re a brain,” he said. It was hopeless.

  “Everybody’s a brain, Stanley. There are all kinds of ways to be smart.” She paused, smiled again. “Did I mention that I like to ride in fast cars?”

  Was that a hint? Did he dare ask her out? “Umm.”

  “And I could use some pointers when it comes to bowling.”

  That was definitely a hint. He hoped.

  “Would you like to go bowling?” he ventured.

  Her smile lit him up inside. “I would.”

  She fished in her purse and pulled out a pen. Then she took his hand. He felt the zing all the way up his arm and clear into his chest. She clicked the pen, turned his hand palm up and wrote her phone number on it. Wow. He swallowed hard.

  “Call me,” she said.

  Her sister and the boyfriend had moved on. Walt had let them go and was pretending to look under the T-Bird’s open hood. Stanley and Carol were in the middle of a crowd of old guys, teenagers and kids running every which way, but all those people seemed to disappear, leaving just the two of them. They could have been Adam and Eve.

  He could barely think, barely speak, but he managed to say, “I will.”

  “I’ll see you around,” she said, then turned and ran off to catch up with her sister, her hair swaying as she went.

  Wow again.

  Walt came around the car and stood next to him, watching the vision run off. “So?”

  Stanley held up his hand, showing off the number.

  “Lucky dog,” Walt said teasingly. “I should have cut you out.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Stanley said and was only half kidding.

  “Hey, she’s all yours, buddy. If you can manage not to blow it.”

  “I can,” Stanley said, determined.

  * * *

  Stanley called her that very night. A girl’s voice answered.

  “Uh, Carol?”

  “No, this is Amy. Is this that guy she met?” She sounded completely unimpressed.

  “Yeah.”

  “She told me about you.”

  Yes, she was unimpressed. He could tell by her tone of voice. Stanley had no idea what to say to that, so he said nothing.

  “Carol,” she called. “It’s him.”

  A moment later Carol was on the phone. “Him who?” she teased.

  “Him who wants to take you bowling. Will you come?”

  “Sure. Why not? I’m busy tonight. How about next Friday?”

  “Great.” He had a date with Carol. He wanted to throw back his head and howl with delight, but he managed to contain himself
enough to set a time and get her address. Then he hung up the phone and let out a whoop.

  “Did you win a million bucks?” teased his brother Curtis, who was walking through the front hall on his way upstairs.

  “Better. Got a date.”

  “Huh. No kidding. Don’t blow it.”

  Yep, nothing like a little brotherly encouragement. “I won’t,” Stanley said and hoped he was right.

  * * *

  Stanley finally got to see Carol’s eyes when he picked her up on Friday night. They were as blue as a cloudless sky. Those crazy platform shoes she was wearing made her look even more like a model, but he could tell that once she exchanged them for bowling shoes she’d be just the right height to kiss.

  If he could ever get up the nerve.

  “You have your own bowling ball?” she asked as they walked into Sunset Bowl in the Ballard neighborhood. “You must be really good.”

  He was. “I’m not bad,” he said modestly.

  “Hey, Stan,” the man working the shoe-rental counter greeted him. “How’s it goin’?”

  “Good,” Stanley replied, trying not to grin so much that he looked like a dope.

  So far he didn’t think he’d blown it. He hoped he was doing okay with Carol. Lucky for him, she was easy to talk to, and she carried most of the conversation for him.

  “I like your car,” she’d said as he opened the door for her.

  From there it was on to talk of the church youth-group bowling party she’d been to earlier in the year. “I love parties,” she’d said.

  Stanley wasn’t exactly a party animal. He had his close friends, and they hung out, worked on their cars, played Ping-Pong at Walt’s house and, of course, went bowling. He’d been to some bigger parties, always in somebody’s basement. There was often dancing, which made him feel self-conscious, noisy talk and teasing, where he never seemed to be able to come up with a cool thing to say, or a game of Twister that could get awkward when you had to bend over a girl in an effort to put your hand on a certain colored circle. He did better with just one or two people.

  “How about you?” she’d asked.

  “I guess parties are okay,” he’d managed. “But I’d rather do things with just a couple of people.” Maybe even just with you.

  “But you do go to parties, don’t you?” she persisted.

  “Oh, sure.” He hadn’t wanted her to think he was a social reject. Still, he’d been glad when they arrived at the bowling alley and left that subject behind.

  After getting her shoes and getting set up on a lane, it was time to find a ball. “I can never find a ball I like. They’re all so heavy,” she said, picking one up and frowning.

  He found a lighter one. “Here, try this twelve-pounder,” he said, handing it to her.

  She took it and wrinkled her nose. “It still weighs a ton.”

  “I bet you can handle it,” he said.

  “I’m sure going to try.”

  And try she did. She couldn’t get the ball to go straight down the lane, but he had to give her credit for enthusiasm. After rolling gutter balls her first two times, she jumped up and down, squealed and clapped like she’d gotten a strike when she’d actually knocked over three pins.

  “I’ve got potential, don’t I?” she crowed.

  “Oh, yeah,” he agreed. Everybody had potential. He came and stood next to her. “Just try and keep your arm straight when you throw the ball. Follow through. Like you’re on the pitcher’s mound.” He demonstrated, and she nodded.

  “Follow through,” she repeated. She tried again, and her arm went crooked, and off the ball skittered, edging toward the gutter. Which it hit right before the pins.

  “Better luck next time,” he said and rolled a strike.

  “You make that look so easy,” she told him, and he puffed up like a rooster.

  “Here, let me help you,” he offered as she got ready to take her turn. He pointed to the line of dots on the floor in front of them. “See all these spots? If you use them to line up, you’ll have a better chance of the ball going where you want it.”

  “Really? Where should I stand?”

  It was the perfect excuse to make contact. He took her arms, stood behind her and gently moved her to a spot he thought would help. Suddenly he wished they weren’t in a bowling alley. He wished they were somewhere quiet, maybe by a mountain stream or on a moonlit beach.

  “So here?” she asked, yanking his thoughts back to the game.

  “Uh, yeah. That’s great. Now, remember, keep your arm straight. Four steps up, and then let the ball go.”

  “Four steps up, and let the ball go,” she repeated.

  “Start swinging the ball back as you approach.”

  He stepped back and watched her, trying to stay objective as he observed her form, and not fully succeeding.

  She managed to take down four pins and on her next throw got two more down. “See? Potential,” she said happily.

  “Yep,” he agreed. “Potential.” But he wasn’t just thinking about bowling. Did they have potential?

  He longed to kiss her when they stood on her front porch saying good-night, but he didn’t want her to think he was a wolf.

  “I had fun, Stanley,” she said. “You’re the sweetest guy I’ve met in a long time.”

  Her words wrapped around him like a hug. It was almost as good as a kiss. Almost.

  “Will you go out with me again?” he asked.

  “I will. Call me,” she said as she walked inside.

  Call me. Best words in the English language. He practically floated back to his car.

  Their next date was to a movie. Sitting there in the dark theater, he longed to hold her hand, but he couldn’t get up the nerve. Instead, he kept his hands busy digging into the popcorn.

  After the movie it was off to Zesto’s for a burger and shake. “How did they ever get that car up there?” she wondered, looking at the 1957 Chevy on the roof of the hamburger joint.

  “I don’t know,” he said, “but I think it’s cool.”

  “Yes, it is,” she agreed. She moved her straw around to suck up the last of her chocolate shake.

  He watched her, wishing he could kiss those pretty lips. What was she doing out with the likes of him?

  “I bet you were a cheerleader in high school,” he said.

  “How’d you guess?”

  He shrugged. “You’re...bubbly. Were you on the honor roll?”

  “I was.”

  “I wasn’t.”

  “I told you before, there are lots of ways to be smart, Stanley.”

  “Hey, I never flunked any classes,” he quickly clarified.

  “I’m sure you didn’t.”

  “It’s just that some subjects didn’t interest me.”

  “What does interest you?”

  He shrugged. “I like math. I like putting things together. Working with my hands.” I like you.

  By their third date he actually felt comfortable talking with her. Words were coming out more easily instead of stubbornly lodging at the back of his mouth and having to be yanked out.

  Once more they found themselves fueling up on burgers and shakes, and he was able to find the nerve to ask, “So how come you’re not with anyone? I can’t believe you don’t have a boyfriend.”

  “I did.”

  “I bet he was a football star.”

  Even though the boyfriend was no longer in the picture, Stanley couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. He should have gone out for football. Girls loved football players. Except Stanley had never liked the idea of getting tackled and crushed. No guts, no glory, as the saying went. So now here he was, perfectly intact but with nothing to brag about.

  Carol made a face. “He was a selfish jerk. Everywhere we went, everything we did, it was all about him and what he want
ed. Not that I minded doing things he wanted to do,” she hurried on, “but after a while I began to wonder why he never asked me what movie I’d like to see or where I’d like to go eat, why he never asked me what I thought about anything. He did all the talking, and I did all the listening. After a while it didn’t feel like we were together. I was just...”

  “Fuzzy dice,” Stanley supplied, looking at the ones dangling from his rearview mirror.

  She smiled at the metaphor, gave them a flick with her finger. “Exactly. He didn’t really care about me. I was just decoration, something to make him look cool.”

  Stanley nodded, taking that in. The ex-boyfriend was obviously a dope who didn’t know what he’d had.

  “You know, Stanley, I’m not looking for someone who’s a hotshot or Mr. Cool. I’m looking for someone who’s kind, someone who wants to have fun together. Most important, I’m also looking for someone who thinks about more than himself, someone who wants to be a team. Are you that kind of guy?”

  “I am,” Stanley said, determined to be.

  “Good,” she said with a nod. “I’m glad to hear it.”

  After that conversation he didn’t dare try to kiss her. He didn’t want to come across as a selfish jerk, out to get what he could as soon as he could.

  But he didn’t have to. When he brought her home she closed the distance between them there on the front porch.

  “Stanley, you really are sweet,” she said and kissed him.

  It wasn’t a long kiss, but it was a perfect one. Her perfume, her soft lips, that beautiful body up close to his was a heady mixture, and for a moment there he was sure he’d died and gone to heaven.

  She pulled away and smiled at him.

  “Wow,” he breathed.

  Her smile got bigger. “Yeah, wow. You know what made that so special just now?”

  “You.”

  She chuckled and shook her head. “Knowing that you really care about me.”

  “I do.” I want to spend the rest of my life with you.

  He didn’t say it, but he knew. And he hoped she felt the same, because as far as he was concerned the kiss said it all. They would be together for the rest of their lives.