Here she comes, walking down the steps of her stoop.
Damn, she’s with her dad. But I expected that.
“Holy Shit,” I think to myself as I jump up off the stoop on the corner of Windsor and Eighth.
Mass starts in a few minutes; I can walk up Windsor Place with her. I love being with her even if it’s just for a few minutes.
Last night we hung out together until eleven.
Hope her dad doesn’t get mad. Hope he’s not pissed at me for keeping his daughter out. But at least he knew we were. I mean we were sitting right there on the stoop. Plus, I hate leaving her at night.
Now all of a sudden I want to go to church. We can sit next to each other in the pew. Should I hold her hand during mass?
Hope her dad doesn’t sit between us.
After mass we can leave together and maybe go over to the Parkhouse for breakfast. There has been talk about that joint closing soon. The Parkhill on the corner of 16th street is a possibility.
Or, maybe we can go to Pynn’s deli next to Farrell’s and get a buttered roll and a coffee? I’ll probably order their rice pudding though.
Maybe a better idea would be to go to L&J bakery for a black and white cookie and go sit on the park side.
Wonder if her dad will let her hang out with me after mass?
Fuck I’m scared. So scared my palms are sweaty and my knees are weak.
I got butterflies in my stomach.
Feels like I have a test in school. You know that feeling, right?
She spots me from across the street on the corner; she cracks a huge smile. God I love that smile.
Her dad is standing next to her looking towards Prospect Avenue to see if any cars are coming.
He’s tall, a lot taller than me. Matter of fact everyone in their family is tall.
I think that’s what I love about my girlfriend, she’s the tallest girl in our gang. We’re really not a gang like the Sharks and Jets or even the Huns or Jokers.
We have a huge group of kids that hang out together. The number is probably close to 30. The girls we hang out our real cool. But my girlfriend, she’s the coolest by far.
Did I tell you she’s two years older than me?
That’s right, she’s sixteen.
But it doesn’t matter.
“Hey, what are you doing here?” she asks as her dad looks at me.
I don’t say anything. I really don’t know what to say. I’m too scared to say anything.
“Wanna come to church with us?” she asks as her dad looks up Windsor Place.
“Come on, hurry up or we’ll be late,” he says as he walks in front us.
I look at him, then at her. We both smile.
Wish I knew what to say. That is my biggest problem. When I am around her, I don’t say much. She always knows what to say.
As we begin to make our way up Windsor Place, she puts out her hand. I grab it and look at her.
“Think your dad minds?”
“Nah, he doesn’t care,” she reminds me.
Wouldn’t you know it; I’m going to church after all.