Harvest of Expectations
Autumn Writer
© Copyright 2013
Chapter 2 — The Next Step
July 1973
Jim liked to get a fix in his minds eye how events would go. It helped him make sure that they always went just right.
Jim watched Hildy drive out of the parking lot and turn onto the main road. He started his own car and put it in gear. Soon he was headed home, to his parents’ house, which was in the opposite direction, where he stayed during his summers and school vacations.
It was nearly midnight, so his parents wouldn’t be up waiting for him, which Jim considered to be a good thing. For, no matter whether he ended up judging the night’s events good or bad, a failure or a near-success, he knew either of his parents would consider them bad. He had a lot to think about.
“Why didn’t I just go for it when I had the chance?”
He couldn’t answer. Perhaps it was his fear of making Hildy pregnant and all the trouble that would bring him–and her. But he reminded himself that he didn’t feel quite right before the subject even came up at the very end. It just didn’t feel like it was supposed to feel. He thought that she was experienced. He was wrong about that, for she told him that she had never done anything like that, either.
“She has a problem, too.”
But why was a problem for girls not considered a problem for them like it was for young men like him? Young women often sought to preserve their problem, while guys like Jim were trying to get rid of it from the moment they could get their hands on a Playboy magazine.
“Not like a James Bond movie.”
He wondered why Bond Girls never worried about getting
pregnant, and why James Bond never had to do it squeezed into the front seat of
a beat up
“I have to plan ahead better.”
At least, he thought, he should have a few condoms ready. He thought again and wondered how he would screw up the courage to take the pharmacist aside and ask him to look under the counter for his supply of Trojans. He would have to work on that later, and whether to get the red or blue pack—because the pharmacist would be sure to ask.
As he turned into his parents’ neighborhood he asked himself about Hildy.
“I wonder what she thinks about what happened tonight,” he asked out loud.
He had no idea what the answer might be. Perhaps she had unanswered questions, too. As he thought and remembered he recalled that Hildy would have gone along with whatever Jim wanted to do even though it was clear that she was hardly in the throes of passion, like a Bond Girl would have been.
“And then, she told me that she had never done it, either.”
Didn’t girls want their first time to be just right, a sweet memory to pack away in their hope chests? Why would Hildy be willing to give all that up, just for a quickie in a station wagon to help Jim out of his problem?
“Why did she go along with it when she didn’t really want to?” was all he could answer, and then realized that his answer was a question.
He was in his parents’ driveway. He shut off the motor and sat behind the wheel for a minute thinking.
“I’ve got to understand this better. I’ve got to understand Hildy better.”
He’d made a date with Hildy for Saturday. Maybe he would find out more then—if Hildy didn’t call it off.
****************
The next morning was Thursday and Jim drew an easy job for the day. Frank Paternico’s helper had the day off and Jim was assigned to take his place.
Frank drove a dump truck for the Gas Line Department. He delivered loads of gravel, blacktop and soil, as well as other supplies to job sites for the crews. All Jim had to do was ride along in the truck and help load and unload the materials. Compared to eight hours of digging, it was easy work. It was his lucky day.
Frank was also the Softball Team Manager. He played First Base. Frank was a family man, a traditional Italian, about forty years old, clean-shaven with a Julius Caesar kind of face and just showing signs of a belly. He was at his truck with a fistful of work orders when Jim walked out in the yard after receiving his assignment.
“I drew you,” Jim announced.
He liked Frank and thought they would talk baseball all day. Frank was a big sports fan.
“I know,” Frank countered. “I asked especially for you.”
That surprised Jim, but he thought little of it. He started looking forward to a day of baseball talk, and probably other sports, too. Jim was a pole-vaulter on his college track team. He climbed into the passenger’s seat. Frank got in behind the wheel.
“Pretty good game last night, wasn’t it, Frank?” Jim said as Frank pulled the dump truck onto the highway.
“Yeah, pretty good. We’ve got to go and pick up a load of gravel first thing,” he said.
It wasn’t like Frank to be preoccupied by the job. Jim decided to try again.
“Why didn’t you go over to Clancy’s with us? You should have gone for a little while. It was a great win—you’re our leader.”
“I never go out to bars,” Frank grumbled. “It’s better that I go home. The wife’s expecting me right after the game.”
Jim was only trying to get the conversation ball rolling, and when it didn’t roll he knew it was better to be quiet and wait for Frank to speak. They drove along for about five miles on the way to the gravel yard.
They passed one of their usual morning coffee places without stopping, and Jim knew that Frank had something on his mind. He wondered if the boss upstairs had yelled at Frank for wasting too much time on the job.
When they got to the gravel pit Frank spoke for the first time since leaving the company lot. He pulled the truck onto the scale, reached into his pouch for the purchase order. He climbed out of the truck and headed for the shack where the yardmaster had his office.
“Hop up into the box and make sure there isn’t nothin’ loose back there before they dump the gravel in,” he called out to Jim over his shoulder.
Jim got out and climbed up the side of the truck to take a look in the box. There was a shovel that he thought should be secured better, and he fixed that. He climbed down and got back into the cab and Frank was not far behind. Frank still said nothing to him as he put the truck in gear and made for a giant mound of gravel where a loader was waiting for them,
They were back on the highway, retracing their steps on the way to the job. Frank broke the ice.
“Gonna be a hot one today,” Frank barked over the growl of the diesel, “over ninety.”
“That’s what I heard, Frank. It’s over eighty already and it’s not even nine o’clock.”
“Those guys on the work crews are gonna’ really sweat it out today,” Frank went on. “Pretty nice of me to pull this easy duty for ya’.”
Jim did like Frank, but no one is perfect. One of Frank’s imperfections was making sure that you knew he was doing you a big favor. He did it when he let Jim play Right Field instead of Catcher, or when he promoted him to batting third instead of seventh in the order. Perhaps, Jim thought, Frank fancied himself as a sort of ‘Don Vito Corleone’ of the Gas Line Operations Department. Jim knew he was asking for trouble, but decided to indulge himself in a rejoinder, just the same.
“Did you tell Louie to take the day off so I could ride with you?”
“Wise guy,” Frank growled.
Jim knew that Frank was displeased. He decided to make Frank a deal he couldn’t refuse.
“I’ll buy if you stop at the coffee place.”
“I was gonna’ stop anyway,” Frank answered as they approached the diner they’d passed on their way to the gravel pit. “But I’m gonna let you buy, anyway.”
Frank pulled the truck off to the side with the other trucks. When they walked into the diner it was about half-full. Jim spotted two empty stools at the counter and started to go for them.
“Let’s get that table over there, instead,” Frank said, so Jim made a detour and they waited for the waitress.
“I bet you wish you were back at that college of yours chasin’ those college girls,” Frank said.
That was another of Frank’s little habits. He was always telling Jim how he would be sowing his wild Italian oats among Jim’s lustful and voluptuous female classmates. While Jim would have felt fortunate to bed just one or two of them, Frank claimed that he would be making scores of the promiscuous little tarts feel lucky.
It made Jim smile to himself, because he was quite sure that Frank’s only lifetime sexual conquest was Frank’s own wife in their marriage bed. At the same time, it was a little bit discomforting because it served to remind Jim of his problem.
“If I were your age I’d make sure they knew what it felt like to have a big…”
“But they’re all home on summer break right now,” Jim reminded him.
Frank paused, like a boy realizing that a pin had been stuck in his balloon.
“Yeah, right,” Frank said, “but you know what I meant.”
“Sure, Frank, I know what you meant.”
Just then the waitress brought them their coffee and orders of whole wheat toast. Frank pointed at Jim and the waitress handed him the check. She was surprised because Frank liked to pick up the check.
“Lose a bet to him, or something?” she asked.
Jim didn’t answer, but wondered to himself if he had and just not found out about it yet.
“See,” Frank said in his coaching tone as Jim washed down a mouthful of toast with a swallow of coffee, “I would keep it for those college girls. They’re that kind. It’s expected and they look forward to it. It’s just a fun thing for them and they know how to handle a one-time thing.”
Jim shook his head.
“That’s not altogether true, Frank. That’s something that you guys think, but it’s just not like that. I wish it was more like the way you think it is.”
“That’s not what I heard,” Frank countered, “I heard…”
“Look at Kathy Mangano in the map room,” Jim said. “She’s in college and…”
“You had your eye on her,” Frank interrupted and poked his finger through the air at Jim.
Jim knew that his point was lost by giving Frank an opening to change the subject.
“Yes, for a while,” Jim admitted.
Frank looked down into his coffee cup. After a few seconds he took a deep breath and then looked up at Jim.
“What I’m getting at is this,” Frank said. “Hildy’s not like one of your college girls. She’s not experienced like them. It’s not the same with her. She could get hurt.”
“We only had a few beers together at Clancy’s,” Jim said. “And besides, how did you know…”
“A guy on the cleaning crew saw your two cars parked together in the lot, and then saw her get out and go home,” Frank told him.
A chill ran through Jim. He knew his instincts had been right all along.
“What else did they see?”
“Just that,” Frank said. “I can only guess…”
“Guess all you want. We were only talking for a little while. We were making a date for Saturday.”
Frank looked down and shook his head again. He sunk his face into his hands.
“A date!” he wailed. “Oh, my God!”
“It’s just a date for Saturday night, Frank,” Jim pleaded.
Frank looked up and shook his head again.
“Don’t let this get out of hand,” Frank warned. “Where are you takin’ her, anyway?”
“I don’t know right now. I’ve got today and tomorrow to figure it out.”
“Well, take her somewhere nice,” Frank insisted.
“I was thinking of the Shakespeare Room.”
*******************
Jim hated to be late. The big reason wasn’t that he was afraid of wasting time, although he did hate wasting time. He just thought it was a sign of good manners to be on time.
So it turned out that he arrived early at Hildy’s house to pick her up that Saturday night for their date. It was ten minutes before seven o’clock. It was in a small hamlet of houses in the midst of a rural area where he’d never been. So, he reserved a few extra minutes to make certain that he was on time.
He wasn’t driving the ‘Rustmobile’. His father had loaned him his new Pontiac Catalina for the occasion.
“Dad can be an okay guy when he wants to be,” Jim said to himself as he approached the street where Hildy said he would find her house.
He slowed his car to a crawl as he peered at the house numbers to find the right one. He saw a white house with a screened porch. There was a middle aged man and woman watching him from the porch, a sort of peanut gallery.
“Number eighty-two, I think I’ve found it.”
He stopped and then backed up a little and pulled into the driveway. It had been raining during the day and the driveway was made of crushed stone. Jim was wearing a jacket and tie so he was careful in stepping out of the car to avoid puddles to keep his polished shoes clean. The two people on the porch were still watching him from about thirty feet away inside the screened enclosure, but had said nothing to him. He looked around for a walkway.
”There’s no walkway, so you’ll have to walk through the grass,” the man said.
Jim could see it was so and his plans to keep his shoes clean seemed to be going down the drain.
“Or you could go around to the back of the house and I could let you in through the kitchen,” the lady sitting next to him offered.
Jim saw that the grass had been mowed and trimmed. It wouldn’t be dry, but there was a good chance of keeping his shoes clean.
“Thanks just the same, ma’am. I’ll just come through the lawn, if that’s okay.”
Jim didn’t wait for an answer. He reached into the back seat and pulled out his blazer and put it on. In a few seconds he was marching up the front steps of the porch. He swung open the creaky door and stepped in.
“Hi, I’m Jim Connolly,” Jim announced as he reached out his hand to the gentleman, who was facing him on his left.
The man didn’t rise from his chair and hesitated for a second, looking Jim up and down with a scowl on his face. He reached out with an alligator arm and took Jim’s hand.
Jim couldn’t tell for sure because the man shaking his hand was seated, but it appeared to him that he was average height and average build with a little belly. His hair was thinning and combed backward on his head. There were thick jowls that made his head appear too big for his shoulders. Jim pegged his age to be in his early fifties. He was wearing a tee shirt with pants and suspenders.
The woman next to him was about the same age, a little larger built, but not much. She was wearing a cotton dress. Jim wondered how Hildy had become so tall, but he knew better than to ask that question.
“I know who you are,” the man said. “Hildy told us you were coming for her. I’m her father.”
“Yes sir,” Jim replied. “It’s nice to…”
“I’m Herb Wertz,” he added. “This is Mrs. Wertz.”
The older man released Jim’s hand, which Jim offered to the lady seated next to Hildy’s father. She didn’t reach out to take his hand, so Jim pulled it back.
“Glad to meet you, Mr. Wertz,” Jim replied “and you too, Mrs. Wertz.”
“Hilda is still getting ready,” her mother said.
“You’re early,” Mr. Wertz pointed out.
“I wasn’t sure how to find your house so I gave myself a few extra minutes,” Jim answered, “but I didn’t need them. So, here I am.”
The older man grunted. Jim expected one of them to ask him to be seated or if he would like a glass of lemonade like they were drinking. There was a spare chair alongside Mrs. Wertz. Hildy’s parents didn’t offer the chair or the lemonade, so Jim kept standing in front of them.
“Hildy says that you’re an engineering student,” the older man told him.
“Yes sir; Chemical Engineering. I’ll start my final year in the fall.”
“Then what?” Hildy’s father demanded.
Jim shrugged.
“I’m not sure right now,” he answered, and that was the truth. “I’m just trying to concentrate on getting my fifth year project done.”
Hildy’s father grunted again.
“Hilda tried to explain what kind of engineer you are,” her mother said, “but she couldn’t quite make us understand…”
“The trouble is,” Herbert interrupted, “Hildy’s not very smart. We tried to get her to concentrate more in school, but she just wouldn’t—barely graduated. She’s just not too smart.”
“I hadn’t noticed, sir,” Jim said, “and I’m not an engineer yet. First, I have to graduate and then take my boards and…”
“We tried to get her to go to
“She just didn’t want to listen,” her father said. “It was one problem after another. Like I said, she’s not very smart. She’s not very good looking, either.”
Herb was going to say something else, but then his voice trailed away.
Jim found himself shifting his weight from one foot to the other. He was groping for something to say.
“I like your house,” he began, “I like the closed in porch and…”
“I see you’ve met my parents already.”
It was Hildy stepping through the door that led from the porch to the inside of the house. She looked nice, but not over-dressed in a black skirt and a white, satin blouse.
“We better get going,” she said and Jim noticed that her face was red.
She turned and started out the door to the porch, but her father stopped them.
“Where are you two going?” he demanded.
“I thought we would go to the Shakespeare Room,” Jim answered.
Herb grunted again and Jim noted that it was the third time he had done so since he’d arrived.
“Not too late,” he ordered them, “no later than twelve.”
“Well, I was…” Jim started to say.
“Any later and Hildy’s mother won’t get any sleep.”
Hildy and Jim descended down the small set of stairs onto the lawn and headed for the car.
“I know something about engineering,” Herb called after them as they were walking away. “I’m a machinist.”
****************
The Shakespeare Room was a new place in the downtown section of the city. It was in the basement of the headquarters building of CMC, a machinery company that was a major employer. It was neither a disco nor a restaurant. There was music, and you could have drinks and snacks, too. Most of the patrons were a bit older than Jim.
Jim was being careful to back the
“I’ve never been to the Shakespeare Room,” Hildy said as Jim peered into the side view mirror.
“Me, neither,” Jim admitted.
He completed backing out of the driveway and they were on
their way out of the little hamlet where Hildy lived and driving toward the
“Feel okay, Hildy?”
“I’ll be fine,” she sniffed.
Jim searched for the right thing to say. He knew he had to say something.
“We don’t have to go to the Shakespeare room,” he said at last. “We could go somewhere else.”
Hildy shook her head and Jim saw a tear roll down her cheek for just a second, which she wiped away before she thought Jim could have seen it.
Hildy wasn’t talking, but Jim felt that he understood the problem.
“Hey, Hildy, I’m sorry about the other night. It just happened; I didn’t plan it to happen. We should have talked about it first.”
“It’s not that,” she said.
She didn’t say anything for a minute and Jim was out of ideas, so he didn’t say anything, either.
“I was behind the door all the time while you were talking to my parents on the porch,” she said at last. “I heard everything.”
Jim had wondered at the time how Hildy’s parents could say the things that they did about her and be so confident that she would not overhear them.
“They weren’t very nice to you,” Hildy said as Jim was thinking. “I’m sorry.”
It wasn’t what he would have expected her to say. It occurred to him that her parents’ frosty reception didn’t bother him as much as Hildy thought it did. He wondered if he should let it bother him more. It was Hildy, after all, who should have felt hurt. He wondered why she didn’t.
“That doesn’t matter, Hildy,” Jim countered. “Parents don’t usually like me very much. I’m used to it.”
It was a little lie to make Hildy feel better. Jim didn’t go out on that many dates, especially during the summer when parents would be around. When he did, the girls’ parents were usually nice enough. He reasoned that they felt their daughters were safe because they could sense that he had the problem.
“I was thinking it was kind of mean of them to talk about you the way they did—you know, about your school results and everything.”
Hildy sighed.
“I’m used to that,” she answered.
“Well, it took me by surprise,” Jim said. “I didn’t think it was right for them to air the family laundry like that. Besides, I don’t care to be told what to think about a person. I’d prefer to figure that out for myself.”
They were approaching a busy intersection. Jim stopped talking in order to pay attention to traffic.
“You would?” Hildy asked.
Jim glanced over at her and thought he could see a faint smile on her face.
“Of course!”
They drove along for a while longer without saying anything.
“Why did you decide to go to the Shakespeare Room, anyway?” Hildy asked.
Jim glanced over at her.
“Not that I’m complaining,” she added.
“I thought it would be just right,” Jim began to explain. “There will be music and drinks, so it should be nice. I’ve heard that the music isn’t quite so loud like it would be if we went to a disco, so it would be nice to be able to be able to talk without having to shout.”
********************
There had been a time when Jim had been self-conscious and would avoid appearing to stand out from what people expected of him. It still bothered him sometimes, but it seemed to be something he’d left behind in his younger years.
“Are you glad that we came here?” he asked Hildy as they sat at a table listening to the music and watching the people dance.
There wasn’t a band, but recorded music, like in a disco. The style was a bit more relaxed and the volume reduced. There were a lot of tables and they were all full. The lights were turned down by half, so it was dark enough to be private but light enough to see what was going on. Jim judged most of the patrons to be young couples in their late twenties or early thirties. Probably, some were married and some others were thinking about it. It was a nice, polite place with a nice, polite crowd.
“Sure, it’s nice here,” Hildy answered.
“You see, I thought a long time about where the best place to go might be,” Jim went on. “I wondered if you might like a more hip dance place better…”
“This is fine,” Hildy assured him.
“But, like I said, I thought it might be better to find a place where we could talk to one another without having to yell.”
Hildy threw her head back and laughed.
“You mean to say you spent all that time and effort thinking just about that?” she asked. “I wouldn’t have. I would have just let a thought come into my head and if it felt right—then that’s it!”
She’d said it with such conviction. Jim wondered if he should just drop the whole subject, but it seemed like it was important that she understand what he’d said.
“I just like to make sure it’s the best choice,” he explained. “So that it has the best chance of being the best it can be. I don’t like to look back on things and think that I could have made a better choice.”
There, he’d laid it all out for her, so she would see his point, at long last.
“I just like to do what feels right at the moment,” she insisted. “And then I wait to see what happens. And if it turns out for the best, it’s a nice surprise.”
He must have had a crest-fallen look on his face because Hildy spoke up again.
“Look, I was surprised when you brought me here and look how well it turned out.”
“Were you surprised when I asked you out?” he asked.
“Yes, I guess I was.”
“How about when I tried to get you to do it in my car in the company parking lot?”
“Well,” she laughed, “two out of three isn’t bad.”
That was something they could both laugh at, and they did. They had been in the Shakespeare Room for three hours. They were finishing their third round of drinks and danced to a few of the ‘fast-dance’ songs.
“Want another round?” Jim asked.
“Oh, I don’t think so. I’m not used to mixed drinks and this is my third already.”
Jim was grateful, because drinks in the Shakespeare Room were expensive, and they’d ordered a plate of veggie and cheese snacks, too.
“How about one more dance, and then we’ll head out?” Jim asked.
Hildy nodded and they headed for the dance floor. The song that was playing was The Fifth Dimension’s ‘Workin’ on a Groovy Thing’. It was a poor choice for dancing: not good for fast-dancing, but a bit fast-paced to be good for a slow dance. Jim looked around and noticed that most couples were sitting out the song. He looked at Hildy, wondering if she might give him a hint on how to handle the difficult tune.
“Let’s slow dance this one,” she said as he paused before starting.
It was a good choice. He put his arm around her waist and drew her a bit closer to him. She smelled of soap, not perfume and he liked it. He had been looking at her face when he knew she didn’t see him looking. She was wearing a little bit of make-up, of course, but not much. Jim liked that, too.
Her blonde hair descended to just above her shoulders and framed her face. It looked bright and fresh, young and unspoiled. He’d become used to the little under bite and a few other things, and he liked her face just like her soapy smell.
“This is hard to dance to, but I always liked the song,” Hildy said as they swayed to the music.
Best of all, Hildy’s smile was a smile and her frown was a frown. She made no effort to hide her expressions or force them to happen. She let her face rule itself, like one of her surprises.
“Aren’t you embarrassed that I’m taller than you?” she asked as they made a turn.
She’d hit the issue head-on when he’d least expected it.
“I hadn’t noticed, Hildy.”
It was a lie, but a harmless, polite, white lie. He had noticed and he was certain that everyone else in the room had noticed, too. She’d only worn two-inch heels, but towered over him by at least three inches, probably a little more.
“Well, now that you do notice it, does it bother you?”
He’d thought that his little politism had satisfied her. When she asked again he regretted the lie no matter how harmless, polite and white he’d intended it.
“No, it doesn’t, Hildy. Maybe once it might have. It doesn’t bother me at all.”
Hildy didn’t say anything, and appeared to accept his answer. The mood had become serious. Jim tried to think of something to lighten things up.
“The important question is whether it bothers you to be taller than me.”
She was laughing again, and Jim was glad for that.
“No,” was all she said in a soft voice as the song ended.
**********************
They were in his car, driving out of downtown toward the rural area where Hildy lived.
“Hildy, it’s only about eleven o’clock. I know an all-night diner where we could have a cup of coffee and maybe a piece of pie, if you would like to.”
She didn’t answer for a few seconds and sounded surprised when she did.
“Oh—why, yes—that would be nice.”
After a few minutes Jim pulled his father’s car into a parking lot where there was a diner with bright lights. He parked and soon they were seated in the back corner in a booth.
“There’s something about blueberry pie that I just can’t resist,” he confessed as he shoveled a forkful into his mouth.
Hildy passed on the pie, but was nursing a small dish of ice cream along with her coffee.
“Tell me why it takes five years for you to graduate while most people only need four,” Hildy asked.
“It’s just that there are a lot of courses to take,” Jim answered.
He went on to explain that he had to take a lot of chemistry courses as well as the physics and math of other engineering majors.
“There’s just not enough time in four years,” he said.
“I never passed Chemistry in high school,” Hildy admitted. “I passed Biology, though.”
She looked up from her coffee, as if she was expecting some kind of risqué remark from him. But, Jim just listened.
“I tried Chemistry but couldn’t pass. I took an alternate science course so I could get my diploma. I think they called it ‘Science for People Who Can’t Pass Chemistry but Have to Get a Diploma.”
It was another time that Hildy had made them laugh—and Jim had lost count how many times that had been since the evening began.
She asked him more about his chosen profession and Jim was happy to tell her all about it and how he was excited at the prospect of finishing school and landing a challenging job at a first-rate company. He explained to her how he wanted to win his Track and Field letter in the spring and what he would have to do to make it happen. He knew that she couldn’t possibly be interested in these things that could only have interested him. He enjoyed telling her, however, and it appeared that she was enjoying listening to him. So, he kept on talking.
They’d finished their desserts and their second coffee refills.
“Time to fire up the Catalina,” Jim announced.
“Where did you come up with this car, anyway? I meant to ask you. I was expecting the ‘Rustmobile’,” Hildy asked as Jim turned over the ignition.
“My father loaned it to me,” Jim replied. “I was on my way out the door and Dad said that the ‘Rustmobile’ wasn’t fit for respectable people, and then he tossed me the keys. Dad can be an alright guy when he wants to be.”
Jim couldn’t see Hildy’s face, because it was dark. She didn’t say anything for a few minutes.
“I’m sorry about my father tonight,” she said at last. “He comes across the wrong way sometimes. He doesn’t mean it. At least, I don’t think he means it.”
It was hard for him to think of the right thing to say. He didn’t care for Hildy’s father—at least the single time that they’d met.
“He’s okay,” Jim said, “just a bit over-protective.”
“Well, I just wish…” Hildy began to say, but then stopped without finishing her thought.
Jim turned down the road that led to Hildy’s house.
“I’ve got just enough time to get you home before your father’s curfew,” Jim said. “I don’t want him to give you a hard time in the morning.
They were passing an empty parking lot that served one of the county parks.
“A lot of couples use that lot to park at night in the summer,” Hildy told him as they approached it.
Jim didn’t answer and kept driving. It was just a couple of minutes before he pulled the Catalina into Hildy’s driveway. He turned off the headlights so that he wouldn’t wake her parents.
“Hildy,” he explained, “we tried the parking lot thing a few nights ago and it just didn’t seem to be as nice as it should have been. Besides, like I said, I don’t want you to get a hard time in the morning and it’s getting to be that time.”
“Okay,” Hildy answered.
Her voice said little, but her face had one of those frowns that appeared on its own and she made no effort to disguise.
“Hildy, you’re not mad, are you?”
She shuffled across the car seat, close to where he was seated.
“Of course not; how could I be mad at you?” she whispered
She leaned closer and kissed him on the lips. It was nice. Jim realized that, despite their encounter in the Rustmobile several nights before, it was the first time that she had kissed him. She felt warm and soft and he felt like she was trying to give him some sort of reward, though he did not know for sure why he was being rewarded. He liked it just the same. As Jim thought about that he felt her hands around the back of his head as she pulled him even closer and kissed him again.
She broke away after about a minute.
Jim looked at her and she was smiling. She slid back to her side of the car.
“I’ll see you on Monday,” she said as she bounded out the passenger door, being careful not to make a lot of noise as she closed it.
Jim watched as she unlocked her door and went inside. He backed the Catalina out of Hildy’s driveway and was on his way home.
As he drove Jim thought about how, despite all his planning, events surprised him, just like Hildy had been talking about. But that was okay because he had a feeling that he wasn’t used to and he hoped it wouldn’t leave him for a while.
He thought about the package of condoms in the glove box that he’d screwed up the courage to buy, but hadn’t used. If his father—or God forbid his mother—found them it would be a long time before he would have the keys to the Catalina again.
“On second thought, Ma probably wouldn’t know what they’re for.”
He chuckled a little at the thought, but reached over and pulled the contraband out and put them in his pocket. He was taking no chances.