Nothing to Say: Step 66

We met in Mr. Takarian’s general science class. He was the original Mr. T. long before the guy with the Mohawk showed up on The A Team. For those unfamiliar with the reference he can be found on imdb. Our Mr. T. didn’t have the strip down the middle; his hair had pretty much deserted him. If his good-natured jokes and ear to ear grin didn’t impress teachers and kids alike, his immense pecs, tight abs, and huge guns screaming to burst out of his white dress shirt back in the day when they were simply known as pectoral, abdominal and bicep muscles caught everyone’s attention. He used all of these attributes to charm his students and motivate them in a class he knew they took only because it was required. He also introduced me to her. Actually, the first day of class when he took attendance by calling everyone’s name I paid especially close attention so when he said Becky and her hand went up she would be sure to notice me smiling at her. In the days and weeks that passed and despite my best efforts to say hello to her every chance I had it became apparent there were quite a few boys in class who noticed Becky. Then, Mr. T. in his good natured way began to tease some of the boys that if they wanted her to notice them they needed to step up their science game, because he noted not only was she beautiful but Becky was the best student in the class. In fact I even read the book, worked through the exercises and experiments, and attempted to internalize some of the key concepts, but science was never my strong suit and there was almost no way my best effort would catch her eye. At the same time her genial smile, big brown eyes, and glistening black hair haunted my dreams. In desperation I decided to take action. For some long forgotten reason the Jewish Center was having a dance that everyone was talking about and I decided to ask Becky to go with me to it. Again I was glad Dad had put in a phone jack in the basement, so I could carry the phone down, plug it in, and dial her number in privacy. Her answer was what I wanted, but as soon as I hung up the phone it became a matter of be careful what you wish for because you may get it. Now that I had a date I needed to find someone to “double” with us. Cousin Jim, Big Steve, and Ron were all going to the dance, but none of them wanted to take a date. So I turned to her, but none of her friends wanted to ask someone to the dance. Came the night of the dance I put on my sport coat and tie, my stovepipe pants and Beatle boots. Dad drove me over to her house and waited patiently as I went upstairs to get her. She looked fantastic all the features I’d been dreaming about wrapped in a frilly white blouse and gray wool skirt. Dropping us off, my dad told me to give him a call about 20 minutes ahead of when we wanted to be picked up from the dance. Once we were inside I said the lead singer of the band, The Contrels, was wearing the same kind of glasses as one of the Byrds. She had no idea what I was talking about and that was the last complete sentence we shared all evening. We were friendly. We smiled. We danced a couple dances. We sat in the lobby. We talked to friends. We had sodas. We went inside. We came back out. We were bored. After a sufficient amount of time I asked if I should call my father. She smiled and nodded with relief. When we got to her house I knew what was expected and walked with her to the door. I didn’t know if I was supposed to follow her upstairs, so I started to ask her, but before I could she leaned over toward me as if she was going to kiss me on the cheek, and I pulled away. It was all very awkward. She just smiled, said good night, and went up stairs. Dad asked me if we had a good time and I just smiled. Years later I saw Becky. She was still beautiful. But we still had nothing to say.