I idly wondered if I was also misjudging Dale the way that I had once misjudged Kristen. All evidence seemed to point to the contrary, but I was now very leery of making uninformed judgments about other people.
It was amazing to see Kristen work the flea market. She wouldn’t purchase much, but she always talked to the vendors. Kristen always seemed to know what topics would interest another person. She would point to some odd doll and recall how she had a similar one when she was younger, and the woman behind the table would explain how she came about it.
I never managed to learn how to talk with other people as easily as Kristen seemed to be able to do. It was obvious from watching Kristen what her secret was: she genuinely cared.
About twenty minutes after we got to the flea market, we ran into my family. Merry noticed us first. She ran and gave Kristen a hug, and she headed for me next. She proudly showed Kristen her “Belly Buster” coupon that she received the night before, and showed me that she was wearing her “Shortcake” bracelet.
My parents weren’t too far behind my step-sister, and they both approached us and thanked Kristen for the meal at Vaughn’s. Kristen shrugged off the thanks, pointing out that it was Merry’s present, after all.
Kristen dragged Merry off to a table we had visited a few minutes before that had something that Kristen thought would appeal to Merry.
My step-father took the opportunity while I was away from Kristen to tell me that I was looking good. He noticed the outfit that I was wearing, which was from Kristen’s growing wardrobe of men’s fashions for me. “Looking sharp, Jim!”
I nodded, a bit embarrassed. “Kristen likes picking out things for me to wear,” I explained.
My step-father nodded.
I started feeling a bit ill at ease; it was as if my parents were starting to think of me as a kept man. Later on in life, I would learn meaning of the term “gigolo.” The concept was foreign to me at the time, although I knew a song that had that word in the title. To this day, I wonder what my parents thought of me at that point in my life.
Changing the subject, I asked, “See anything interesting here?”
“Not today, Jim,” my step-father answered, frowning. “There was this tackle box a few weeks ago that I should have gotten. It was a good price, but…” His voice died off. Apparently, the seller wasn’t there today.
“Well, it really isn’t fishing season anymore,” I pointed out. “Unless you want to go ice fishing in a month or so.”
This earned me a chuckle. “I’m not that hard core, Jim. You know that!”
My mother added, “Did the two of you see anything you liked? Christmas is just a couple of months away.”
“You want me to do Christmas shopping in September? Are you kidding?” I asked in mock protest. For my mother, July wasn’t too early to start Christmas shopping.
“Better to be prepared than to be out at the last minute,” my mother pointed out.
“Well, if I see any tackle boxes or ice fishing gear…”
“No ice fishing gear,” my step-father protested, laughing.
I suddenly remembered why Kristen had left me alone with my parents. “Oh, by the way, Kristen’s parents have invited you over next Saturday for dinner.”
“Dinner?” my mother asked. I could see gears turning in her head.
“Nothing formal, Mom,” I said. “No evening gowns or anything.”
My mother shot me a look, but then smiled. “I’ll trust you on that.”
“I’ll let the two of you discuss it. If you accept, just let me know. If not, I can explain to the Swifts that you have other plans…”
“Oh, no need to discuss it, Jim,” my mother said, looking at her husband, who nodded. “We’d be glad to come.”
Kristen was arriving back where we were with Merry in tow.
“Wow, Mom! They have these OLD dolls over there!” Merry squealed. “Like Pebbles and Bam-Bam, like the Flintstones? They are almost life sized!”
“Not so old,” Kristen protested. “I used to play with them when I was a little girl.”
“Really?” asked Merry.
“Actually, those were my dolls. I donated mine to a charity a few years ago, and one of them at the table had a tiny ‘W’ on the bottom of the foot where my brother had written his initial!”
“Kristen, dear,” my mother said. “Jim has told me that we’re invited for supper with your parents next Saturday.”
“Yes, Mrs. Cummings. Do you need directions to my house?”
I think Kristen asked that as a matter of formality. I think everybody in town knew where the Swift residence was.
“That won’t be necessary, my dear. What time should we arrive?”
“My parents have cocktails at five. And dinner will be served at six-thirty.”
“That’s nice. Please thank your parents and assure them that we’ll be there.”
Chapter 4—Blow Up!
During the next week in school, I noticed a couple of significant changes. The first change was that Kristen seemed to withdraw into herself.
Kristen’s attitude worried me. During the weeks when I first met her, she had actually managed to be more animated. For the first time in her life, Kristen had real friends, and even invited them to her house and had a couple of pool parties there.
I had no idea why Kristen seemed so moody. The only thing I could think of was the argument we had on Sunday morning, but I had really thought that we had worked it out. Didn’t we? I tried to talk to Kristen during our car rides and at lunch period, but it was to no avail. She was moody, and if she talked, it was only to answer a direct question and with as few words as possible, just like Amy in the jazz band.
Patty also seemed to be trying to figure out what was going on with Kristen, but Kristen seemed to shrug off Patty’s attempts as well.
Kristen didn’t invite me to dinner on Tuesday, nor did she show up for dinner at my house on Wednesday. My family noticed these events, but they didn’t say much, apparently knowing that something was going on between Kristen and me.
Kristen’s mood was contagious, since I guess I spent a lot of time thinking about Kristen’s demand over the weekend and our subsequent discussion about it Sunday morning. Knowing that Kristen was upset about something and didn’t seem willing to want to talk to me was very frustrating.
The second significant change I noticed that week was that Sherry seemed more at ease with me during the classes we shared. I guess I was happy for that. Camille repeatedly sought me out during the week to remind me that cheerleader tryouts were Thursday afternoon, and to make sure that Sherry attended. Since jazz band rehearsal was also Thursday afternoons, I wouldn’t be able to attend with Sherry, but I promised her that I’d be there in spirit.
Jazz band rehearsal brought back the “old Kristen” as she chatted animatedly with Amy as if they were lifelong friends. For some reason, this bothered me. Then, during the improv number, I was surprised to hear a more intricate piano solo than I had ever heard Amy play. I looked over to the piano and was surprised to see Kristen was playing instead of Amy.