Harvest of Expectations Ch. 02

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.