The Story of Us - V
If you are just now tuning in, you have landed smack-dab into the fifth part of the story from mine and my husband's early years. You can read parts one through four below or you can just scoot right in now. I'm trying to make each part its own so if you have just landed here, you won't feel too terribly lost. Sorry in advance if some of the details are a repeat for you regular readers.
After spending a long day at the mall together, as friends, buying Christmas presents for family members, I let on to knowing the perfume he took so long to purchase was not actually for his sister as he claimed.
One night, soon after, I was working at the store. Mr. LaMe dropped by for a visit with his girlfriend in tow. She was an odd one, wearing what looked like her mother's clothes, complete with an over-sized sequence bag draped across her chest like a crossing guard's sash. Her green eyeliner shaped her eyes like a cat's. Her bangs were curled under, like Vicki the robot in Small Wonder. And that oh-so-familiar fragrance, seeped off of her.
A tiny part of my inner-bitch wanted to tell her I shopped with her boyfriend and helped to pick out the fragrance she was wearing. I refrained.
He looked typical 80s with his hair helmet-hard, geometrically shaped like Max Headroom's and held together with the magic powers of Aquanet.
He claimed to be there just to check the schedule to find out when he needed to work again. I knew he was full of crap because his schedule, like mine, was always the same. I tried making small talk with the girl but I saw him in my peripheral vision trying to flag me down from the backroom.
I offered up some lame excuse and headed to the backroom to see what he wanted. "Can you like sell me some beer?"
"You're 19, right?"
"Yeah. Hey, I can't believe I never asked, but like... how old are you?"
"Irrelevant. You are too young and I'm not losing my job for you."
"It's not for me. My sister asked me to get her some... and like, I thought since you know me... you would like, ya know... be cool with that."
"Funny, but last time I saw your sister, she looked pregnant. New girl driving you to drink already?"
"Why are you like always giving me a hard time and stuff?"
"Because I can."
Mad at me he gave his girlfriend a tour of the White Hen Pantry. I know he wasn't proud of where he worked and I was pretty sure he was just trying to annoy me. He succeeded.
He didn't stay mad long and finally admitted that he was trying to bring his girlfriend out of her odd little shell. I invited him to another party in an effort to coax the girl.
(Dear Mom, please ignore the next few lines of text. Love, Lois)
"My friend's band is playing and they are expecting at least 150 people. It's a kegger party, well, there will probably be a few kegs. If that doesn't loosen her up a bit, nothing will."
I told him when and where and he offered to pick me up.
"Yeah, only, I don't do third wheel so good, plus it's right down the street and I can walk there and crawl home if need be. Besides, Andy offered to give me a ride if I need one."
"Yeah, Andy. My friend. The guy having the party." He had a perplexed look on his face, so I continued. "The lead guitarist of the band. The one who is the spitting image of Lars Ulrich. The drummer for Metallica."
"Sounds like a poser. Is he like a good friend of yours, Lois?"
"He is a good friend of mine, and if you were less of a dweeb, he'd probably be a friend of yours too. See you at 8?"
"Will there be slamdancing and stuff?"
"You really are, like totally a neo-maxi-zoom-dweebie."