Unfrozen

First Date Tale- a selection from my upcoming collection of memoirs entitled "Struggling for a Heart".

The house was cupped inside the corner lot. There was a stop sign just before,  that was never obeyed, and a two car wide driveway pickled with greyed out stones. A basketball goal hung over the green Camry with the stickers of a sorority girl. Her monogram was in the center and a few odes to her city bumper stickers were glued to the bumper. As mosaic-like as a car could be.

Meghan and I had met at our sandwich shop. A little “not-fast-food” fast food restaurant that, for some reason, kept both of us employed. She was back for a few weeks between semesters but hadn’t managed to get more than three shifts a week. I’d helped with that. She was my call in when things got tough at the store, or when I was bored. Sandwich shops had that problem, there were highs and lows.

It was a constant issue. Meghan and I found our solution a few months back. We’d gone to see Frozen, we’d connected about music, and now this was the next step. Meghan was going to teach me how to play guitar.

My phone wasn’t correcting my route, I wasn’t sure if I was at the right home at first so I drove past. The GPS screeched and shouted “rerouting” at me a few times. The neighborhood took a turn for the Pleasantville, each home was a shade of grey that just kept getting whiter. I spun the car around at the first opportunity, couldn’t risk getting any of that blandness on me.

My Camry lined up perfectly with her’s. We had the same make and model, just a slight change in color. I had the significantly greater Onyx Black to her green. The car stilled. I starred at the speedometer, before sending her notice that I was outside.

February wasn’t cold anymore but she came out wearing one of her signature sweaters anyway. There was a dragon embroidered on the right side with “South Oldham” under it, her alma mater. “Sup?” She asked. I smiled between each stride. She held the door open for me and pointed to the living room. “I’m going to get my guitar.”

The television was on, playing something with models and a runway. The house was quite, just a dog rolling against it's crate, and the buzz of the tv. I’m not too great at these lonely situations, I always wonder if people are worried I’m going to steal their coffee table books or a candle. I’m not sure where I’d stash it in the few moments I had between their return but that wasn’t something I needed to plan out right now. Though the christmas candle on the trunk in the center of the room had a nice golden wreath around it. She fumbled down the steps, a guitar in each hand.

“I grabbed my brother’s guitar for you. Everyone’s still asleep so we’ll have to go downstairs,” she said, leading the way.

“Yeah, just put me in the dungeon,” I said as I followed.

“It’s not a dungeon,”

“I don’t know, there’s a VCR and a computer from at least a decade ago...is that an abicus?”

“Hugh...no Sam it's not an abbicus. You and your jokes…we can just go right over here. What even is that?”

“It’s what they used to use to count, before they had...paper and stuff,” I fumbled down the stairs only slightly better than how I fumbled over my words. Meghan sat with her legs crossed right by a selection of legos kept in little cubbies you’d find in an elementary school. They were sorted by color, and a rack of movies seemed to covered the upper rim of the walls there must have been a few hundred. Anything from Peter Pan to Rudy was on VHS. There wasn’t an order to them as far as I could tell but they were there, the stories ripe for the viewing.

“Why do you all keep so many videos,” I asked, sitting across from her.

“It’s kinda my family’s thing...I don’t it's our perfect weekend. Just sitting on the couch watching a stream of films, especially disney. Or musicals, Wicked is just the best!” She smiled but shoved her eyes to the head of the guitar. She twisted the strings, plucking them every few quarter turns. I had no idea how she was doing but she did it to both instruments without any trouble. “I think this one better,” she held up the wood grain acoustic guitar in her right hand. “It’s got this tuner here so I won’t screw it all up, well as much.” She passed the other guitar, a black wood grain with a strap attached, to me. “What did you want to learn?”

“I’m trying to figure out bar chords. For this one song- “

“I don’t know bar chords. I’ll just get ahead of you there, my brother does though. Sean had alot more actual instruction than me.” Her face lit up after she spoke, “I know! I’ll show you what my guitar teacher taught me!” Meghan’s finger’s formed a small staircase on the string, the C chord, and started to strum a few different ways. Once she caught the pattern, she started changing the chords.

I’ll be honest, I hadn’t been giving it my full attention. Guitar or her up until she caught the rhythm but as she started to hum a note along with her strumming my brain must have turned from a rural little town to a lively metropolis in an economic boom. Every sense turned to her and it was open to everything in the room at the same time. She’d started to sing. I’m not aware of notes and scales, I can barely tell when someone’s off key, but I wouldn’t have believed she could ever miss a note after that. It wasn’t some beautiful historically relevant song, or even a sweet mildly romantic one, no she was singing Kid Rock’s “Sweet Home Alabama” but that didn’t matter. Very little else mattered to me right then. “So what do you think?”

She punched me in the arm, knuckles first. “Oh wait what?”

“Wanna learn that? Or do you hate Kid Rock too?” She asked, she flattened her lips in a taunting version of a duck face.

“Yeah, I’ll learn that. I do hate Kid Rock though, I mean, he hasn’t cut his hair in decades how is that alright?”

“He’s country.”

“Is that a justification or like...an excuse….”

“A stereotype. Like how country people eat raccoon’s off the side of the street.”

“Well, at least you escalated that one! Eating roadkill’s pretty trashy, I bet one of his roadies has a whole recipe book for the accidental squish,” I said. I angled the guitar in between my legs and tried to make my left hand comfortable on the first few frets.

“Accidental squish? Seriously Sam? That’s just weird,” she started to pluck the strings of her guitar. “Okay, you’re going to start with a C chord, like this...yeah, and then a G chord, and finally a C2 chords which is just a string up. No Sam, a string up is a string down,” she placed her fingers on each chord, changing every few seconds.

“Okay so- this one, then the G, and the C2?”

“You got it. Okay let’s try it like it's actually a song.” Meghan started playing the chords in progression. We spent time with Kid Rock for a few more minutes. I never actually got it down well enough to play alone but we caved and moved onto to something newer.

“I’ve got the perfect thing. Oh my gosh, you’re going to love it. Super fitting,” Meghan said, her phone was glowing. She started playing a few notes and looked up to me, I must have looked completely oblivious, so she kept playing. “Sam, this is like, the cornerstone of us!”

“Give me a minute alright, I’m a wordsmith not a...note...cobbler.”

“I legitimately, don’t know what you’re saying at least half the time,” Meghan replied, then she started to play it over again. “Still not getting it?”

“Patience Meghan! It takes me a while sometimes,” I replied. I tilted my head towards her guitar and focused, there weren’t a whole lot of songs she and I would both recognize. “It’s not…”

“Let it go, let it go,” Meghan began singing. It was even better than her improvement on Kid Rock, mostly because this wasn’t a Kid Rock song. Meghan made it through the first verse but stumbled nearly as bad as I had on the stairs once she came into the second verse. She stopped there, looking at me for a reaction.

“Why aren’t you singing anymore again?”

“I still sing at my church but, I don’t know I just got tired of what everyone else wanted I guess,” Meghan looked back down at the guitar. “Sometimes I miss it but, I wasn’t going to get on Broadway or anything.”

“I understand. Sometimes you just have to let things-”

“Shut up Sam. Way to ruin the moment! Gosh, you’re the worst sometimes,” Meghan said. She laid the guitar down and rolled backwards onto the floor. I could only assume this was a massive exaggerated eye roll.

“We should go see another movie. What are you doing tonight?”

“Counter question- why did you ask me to that movie in the first place? I know it was like six months ago but, I’ve kinda wondered about that,” Meghan said, springing herself back up.

I took a few seconds to think. I slapped the strings on the guitar and ran my hand up and down the neck. “I was gauging it I think. You and me.”

“Oh, so like a date?”

“Yeah, but a few people got in my head. Your age was a bigger factor, etcetera etcetera,” I said. I stared down at the strings, there was more tension in my heart then in them at the moment.

“True, I’ve grown alot since my first semester of college. I’ve seen a guy snort shaving cream, I’ve been hit on and spit up on by the same guy...at the same party. And I’ve been independent but, I don’t know. The boys there, they’re not alright.”

“So I’ve heard. But back to this instrumental progression!” I ripped the guitar back into my hands and tried to form a chord with my left hand. My middle finger was standing straight up, away from the frets, waiting for her to give it attention.

“Sam! Seriously?” She started to laugh, “you’re ridiculous. I’m free this evening, after I sing at my church. Anything in particular you want to see? Don’t say Avengers Two.”

“I wasn’t going to...but now I have to pull IMDB for a lesser idea,” I said, continuing under my breath. “Don’t say Avengers Two..girl please…”

“I knew you were gonna say that! So predictable Sam,” Meghan said. She returned to the guitar, strumming a few chords I wouldn’t be able to guess the names of, but it sounded beautiful enough. IMDB didn’t offer many ideas however it wasn’t a big deal what movie we went to see, just that it was good enough.

“Focus is playing. With Will Smith and Margot from Wolf of Wall Street. You up for that? At five after nine?”

“Yeah. I’m not driving though,” Meghan replied, she set the guitar back down.

“Alright I’m going to go take care of all my various responsibilities before nine and I’ll let you know when I’m on my way, sound good?”

“Yup. I have to be back by midnight but that shouldn’t be an issue,” Meghan rounded up the guitars and stood up. Her steps were effortless, giving the appearance she was gliding to the staircase. I followed, focused on not falling or tripping up the stairs like I’d done on the way down.

Her family was still sleeping. I slipt out the door and waved every couple of steps, I like to think it was cute but at what point is that annoying? My car shook itself awake like a hungover college student getting to a class that starts in less than fifteen minutes. I whipped the wheel around making one simple easy turn out of her driveway and breezed out the suburb.

---

I didn’t miss her driveway this time. The sun was crashing into the horizon leaving it's last thoughts in the clouds, it was blinding. I’d sent her the warning text a few minutes ago as a precaution. Most girls took a bit longer than projected to get ready, this was my deterrent. Waiting in my car didn’t seem appropriate, I’d put on a nice button down and some khakis, it wasn’t a date but I had a reputation to keep. Well, we weren’t calling it a date.

I knocked on the red door that had a dangling announcement of the family that lived there. It had a curly wire and a small white painted cloud like piece of wood that read “The Dillons” it was nice. It was casual.

“You must be Sam, nice to meet you I’m Terry, Meghan’s dad,” he shook my hand with some force. He wasn’t trying to scare me off, but there was some caution.

“Nice to meet you Terry, I’m Sam as I’m sure you’ve heard.”

“Hey Sam! How’s Kim?” The question came from some portion of the living room blocked by Terry.

“Oh well, please come in. She’s still getting ready. she’s rarely on time,” Terry said, leading me into the living room. The entire family was there, her mother had asked the question from the loveseat in the corner and her brother was plugged in to an Ipad trapped in a pillow.

“Kim’s doing well, she’s completely thrown herself into the shopping season so she won’t have to worry about it later. We have a little wrapping factory set up in the basement, it's actually rather handy,” I replied.

“Oh geez, yeah I guess I should do that soon. Oh well! Meghan should be down in a few minutes, she’s….well she’s being a lady,” her mother said. I nodded and turned to the tv, they were watching an animated movie on FXX, which is the back-up channel for failed theatrical releases. This one was something about baseball and the christmas spirit. I couldn’t even bring up the name of the movie from all my days spent in front of the same box they were currently sitting in front of.

Two feet came bounding down the stairs, Meghan was wearing a nice seafoam green sorority shirt and leggings. Her hair was twisted into curls even I envied. “Ready?” She asked.

“Yup, I’ll have her back before the witching hour,” I said while waving back at the parents. It seemed we couldn’t get the screen door to shut fast enough. “We’re cutting it really close but I think we’re good.”

“Sam, it starts in fifteen minutes, the theatre is like five minutes away.”

“Cutting it close Meghan. My plans are very important as you’ll learn.”

“Oh, I’ll learn that huh? Nice car by the way, I mean it's no green Camry but it's pretty good,” Meghan said, pointing at her car and waiting for me to follow her train of thought. I wasn’t a western outlaw though, following trains wasn’t my job, I missed the entire point.

The movie theatre was built decades ago which is why it looks like a palace to the eighties. The floor was checkered and the pillars were a pattern of green and purple, I’m sure it worked at some point but it was long overdue for a remodel. Meghan knew the ticket clerk who kindly gave us a discount. The place was empty for a mild winter thursday. One clerk was at the side concession stand. She was outnumbered twelve to one but the look of defeat on her face said this was par for the course. “Do you want a snack?” I offered.

“Um....Skittles. Yeah skittles would, what are you getting?”

“Twizzlers,” her face sank into a look of disgust.

“Twizzlers? Of all the candy you go for the chewy rope, geez Sam,” Meghan said. She scooted a step closer.

“Hey don’t hate on the rope. What if we fell down a trap door? I could use the twizzlers to get out, but your skittles? Completely useless!” Meghan rolled her eyes. Stepping up to the counter, I placed the order and paid the theatre their pound of flesh for candies I could get next door for a dollar. It really is a merciless business. We grabbed the candy and made our way into theatre nine. The previews had already started.

“See it was fun but…” I started.

“But you hated the screenplay. The writing was just all off and you knew what would happen in the first three minutes?” Meghan asked.

“Precisely. They gave away the whole plot with that ‘and no one has ever pulled off this trick except my father’ schtick. The screenwriter might as well have graffiti’ed the film and said ‘this is going to happen in an hour and a half’,” I said.

“You’re too into the writing. Not everything deserves a story,” Meghan said. “I have to pee,” she took an abrupt turn into the bathroom and left me to lean against the wall alone. Perhaps she was right, not everything would be some grand tale. Maybe the gun in the first scene wasn’t as evident as I thought. Life was a better writer than the dude who wrote Focus.

Meghan returned, shaking her hands dry. “Shall we?” I asked.

“We shall.”

“Are you still hungry? I’m feeling a shake,” I was, something to add a few pounds every sip or two sounded amazing.

“Yaasssss, steak and shake is right there too,” Meghan replied. I pushed through the double doors with her on my tail. Meghan took to the passenger seat like it was her own car, well they were all but siblings after all. With our seatbelts strapped tight I pulled out the lot and made the half mile drive to the Steak n’ Shake drive-thru.

“Alright, here’s the deal- we’re splitting a shake and you have to pick,” I told her.

“Wait, why? That’s way too much pressure! You’re going to judge me on what flavor and what if you don’t like the flavor?”

“Hey, my car, my treat, my rules.” The car edged up to the speaker. Meghan began analyzing the menu over my seat.

“What can’t you have again? Peanuts?”

“Tree nuts, and vanilla,” I replied.

“Okay okay...we could do the chocolate and strawberry or...like a butterfinger and snickers- Sam I don’t know!”

“It’s fine, just get something you want Meghan. Really it's like...a really small test,” I said, pulling up to the speaker.

“Welcome to Steak n’ Shake, what would you like?” The speaker asked.

“Yeah Meghan, what are we getting?” She gave me a cold stare before turning to the speaker.

“Orange Cream shake please.” I nodded to her, it was bold. We pulled ahead, paid and took our shake. After passing it off to her I found a quaint space in the middle of a Meijer parking lot, right in between a few street lights.

“How’s it taste?” Meghan covered her lips and passed it off. “That bad? Alright I’ll have to taste it to believe it,” I took a long strong sip. It filled me with regret. The orange was a chalky damp sponge and the cream was so spoiled it was bordering on a type of cheese. Not just a regular cheese either, a full on french cheese that’s infected with a few different strands of mold for flavor. “We...we have to finish Meghan.”

“No we most definitely do not,” she flipped on her phone and looked away from the shake.

“Do you want the cherry? I’m not much for balls of rubber.”

“Just strings of it? Actually this drink kinda reminds me of Twizzlers,”

“How? How on Earth are those to similar,” I asked, throwing my arms up. The roof of the car confined my enthusiasm.

“They’re both the worst things on Earth. The shake tastes like Robitussin and twizzlers taste like...I don’t know! Those horrible extra chewy vitamin gummy things.”

“I disagree but you are welcome to your terrible opinion, no on the cherry?”

“No on the cherry,” Meghan said, she set her phone on her lap and watched. My window rolled down just a couple of inches. I took the white plastic spoon, popped the top off the milkshake cup and pulled out the cherry and a few ounces of whipped cream. We had actually made a dent in the mostly brown with a hint of orange shake. “Sam what are you-” I pulled the spoon back with my index finger and let the cherry fly. Only it didn’t make it very far, the whipped cream splattered down the side of my car and a little got on my face.

“Well, that could’ve gone better…” I said, whipping some of the whipped cream off my face. Once I turned to Meghan tear welled up in her eyes from laughter.

“Sam...do you need some help today?” She kept laughing.

“Yeah, just a little bit...it's all down the side of my car too,” I joined in on her laughing.

As we both calmed down, she went back for her phone. Something on Twitter was drawing her attention. The shake was all but gone but I wasn’t ready to take her back. There was something I’d wanted to do for quite awhile now.

I put my right hand on her hand. My left hand pulled her phone away and set it under the cigarette lighter. I pulled her in for a kiss, and just before I’d done all the work, I left her a little room for agreement. She went with it, kissing me back.

I’m not sure how much time went between her phone being tucked by the lighter and the screen glowing and buzzing, it didn’t matter either. It wasn’t enough time, but there was never enough of that limiting reactant. She looked me over, brushing aside her hair. “I’m going to get in trouble if I’m not back soon.”

“Then let’s drive,” I replied, sitting up and shaking myself back into reality.

“Yeah…” Meghan said.

The Camry shook awake with the twist of my key. The drive felt like a millisecond and dropping Meghan off in the driveway was a moment I won’t soon forget. Neither is the text I got about how fun the night was as I pulled out of the driveway. I’d be back to this cupped in house. I smiled, breezing past that first stop sign, happy.