by Jillian Dodd
The limo driver stops the car, walks around to the other side, and opens my door.
He obviously expects me to get out.
So I get out, look at him in confusion and say, “Now what?”
“Walk back to the swings,” he says, after consulting a list from his pocket.
Remind me to get my hands on that list later.
I look down at my light dress and satin shoes, and then I look at him like, Are you nuts, boy?
He ignores my look, so I say, “Are you sure? I don’t think I should go back there. My shoes will get dirty.”
Actually, I kind of whine.
“You have to.”
Oh, really? I think.
This is ridiculous. It makes no sense. Why would Phillip get me all gorgeous, buy me a beautiful dress, and then send me out into the dirt?
Then it dawns on me why I’m here.
Our first kiss. Ohhhh, that’s so sweet.
He must be meeting me here.
I run down the dirt path that curls around the building, not even worrying about my shoes. I expect to find Phillip waiting for me on the swings, but am disappointed to see only a boy swinging. I walk over, sit down on the swing next to him, and sigh.
Hopefully the swing doesn’t get my dress dirty.
“Now what?” I mutter to myself.
To my surprise, the little boy stops swinging and says, “Here.” He hands me a little wrapped package and runs away.
I look around in all directions, figuring Phillip is bound to turn up. But he doesn’t, so I open the package. Inside is another charm, a swing. How cute.
I add it to the bracelet and figure what the heck? I’m already sitting on it, swinging on it isn’t going to get me any dirtier.
So I start swinging, and pretty soon I’m swinging as high as I can. I close my eyes and let my stomach go all fluttery. I’m really enjoying myself until I hear that damn limo driver honking his horn at me.
I’ve already had about enough of his rude honking.
Maybe I’ll have a word with him when I get out there. But as I walk back, I decide I look much too beautiful to get all pissed off, so I just get into the limo.
We don’t go very far, because our next stop is Phillip’s house. Finally, I get to see my date. Unfortunately, when we pull in the driveway, I notice that Phillip’s car isn’t there.
Shoot.
The nazi limo driver comes around again, opens my door and says, “Go inside.”
Doesn’t this man know that I hate being told what to do?
I swear, if I weren’t relying on him for my transportation, I would tell him to knock it off! I look straight at him and scream, KNOCK IT OFF, in my mind, and it makes me feel a little better.
I barely get to the front door, when it swings open to reveal Phillip’s parents.
“Oh, JJ!” Julie cries. “You look beautiful!”
I notice that she and Mr. Mac are very dressed up.
“Wow! You guys look great yourselves. Where are you going all dressed up?”
“Oh, there’s a fundraiser at the Piedmont tonight. We’re just getting ready to head there,” Doug tells me.
The Piedmont?
“Did you know Phillip and I are having dinner there?”
“Um, uh, no, we didn’t. The View is a wonderful restaurant though. I’m sure you’ll have a great time, dear.”
“This is for you,” she says, thrusting a box into my hand and deftly changing the subject.
I open it and there—surprise, surprise—is another charm. This one is a heart with little red stones scattered around the edges.
“Thanks,” I say, and before I can hug her, Mr. Mac hands me another box. I open it. It’s a red capital N, for Nebraska football. “I love it,” I say, and give them both big hugs.
“Oh, JJ, I wish your mother were here to see you tonight,” she gushes and looks like she’s going to cry. “You look just perfect.”
That’s nice, but come on, people, it’s a first date. We probably don’t need to go getting all emotional just yet. I know Phillip is going to a lot of trouble, but, um, how ’bout we get past, like, the second date, before we go getting all teary-eyed.
She gives me another hug, just as the nazi limo driver honks his horn again.
“That’s my ride. And he’s so polite. Um, do you guys know if I’m ever going to see my date? Did Phillip tell you where he’s meeting me?”
“Oh, Doug, look at the time,” Mrs. Mac says, glancing at her watch. “We’ve got to get going.”
They hustle me out the front door and into the limo without answering my question.
I lean back in my seat, let out a big sigh, and decide to have some more champagne. Is it just me, or are all the Mackenzies acting a little strange about this whole first date thing?
Is something going on here?
I feel like I’m missing something. It’s nowhere near my birthday. And it’s not like they are coming on our date—surely, he wouldn’t have invited them. No. He said romantic. I must just be paranoid. They are simply excited that Phillip and I are finally together. And that’s a nice thing. I wouldn’t want to have in-laws who didn’t like me.
God, there I go again. Actually thinking about marrying Phillip. Although, I guess it’s not that big a deal. I remember in high school always trying on a boy’s last name, to see if it sounded okay. If it fit. Trying on a last name is very important because you wouldn’t want to fall in love with some guy, only to find out that your name would end up something weird or all rhymey like Mary Barry, or worse, something gross like Jenny Tayla or Amanda Lick.
Okay, so let’s see. Just for fun.
Jadyn Reynolds-Mackenzie.
No. Too long.
JJ Mackenzie.
Jadyn James Mackenzie.
Not bad. Doable, I’d say.
All of a sudden, the driver stops the car. I look out to see that we are . . . uh, where are we? I peer out the windows in all directions and determine that we are . . . definitely in the middle of nowhere.
Like, all I can see is a gravel road and lots of corn.
Great, the limo driver is probably some psychotic serial killer, and now he’s brought me out here to finish me off. Just as I’m thinking about my options, he startles me by lowering the window separating us. It’s been up the entire trip.
Crap.
My purse wasn’t big enough for pepper spray. Now what?
I smile at him sort of nervously. He smiles back and hands me a little box.
I open it and see that it’s a cross charm.
I look outside again and realize that this is probably the exact spot where Phillip pulled off the road and yelled at me before his dad called us on the night my parents died. Well, actually, I may have yelled at him.
Hmm.
Not a particularly happy memory, but a strong one nonetheless. And definitely a time in my life when Phillip was there for me. He was my rock. I don’t think I could have gotten through it without him.
I feel the car go forward, as the driver rolls the partition up.
Yippee. Maybe he’s not going to kill me.
We drive for about half an hour. I can see that we are going back toward Omaha, and it even appears we are headed downtown.
Hopefully to the Piedmont and my date.
I look at my bracelet full of charms and think, this is nice and all, but doesn’t it seem like a bit much for a first date?
Actually, it seems like a bit much for any date. Although, I don’t think I could even categorize this as a date yet. Because technically, it takes two people to have a date, and I refuse to count the limo driver.
This has been more like a scavenger hunt.
Not exactly the romantic evening I had in mind.
Maybe this thing with Phillip isn’t going to work out.
Where the *&%# is that boy??
The limo driver pulls up to the Piedmont. The Piedmont is the coolest hotel in town. It’s in an old historic building that has been completely
renovated. The doorman opens my door. I slide out and look around for Phillip.
Shit.
I don’t see him, so I walk inside. I’ve never gotten to stay at this hotel, but if the lobby is any indication the rooms must be beautiful. The lobby has a huge, high, old-fashioned tin ceiling. There are marble columns and crown molding that must be at least two feet thick.
A bellman walks over to me and hands me a note card.
What is this? And how the hell does he know who I am?
Just go with the flow, Jay, I tell myself, trying to stay calm.
I read the note. It says, Take the elevator to the 16th floor.
No signature. No heart.
I get on the elevator and see from the sign that the restaurant is on the 16th floor.
I am telling you, if Phillip isn’t there, I’m done with this date because I’m sick and tired of being on it alone!
The elevator doors open to a dimly lit hall that leads into the restaurant.
Still no Phillip.
Damn that boy!
Where the hell is he?
I mean, I’m not complaining, but I have been on this whole scavenger-hunt-date-extravaganza-thing for over two hours now, and I still haven’t seen my date.
Okay, so maybe I’m complaining a bit, but I can’t help it.
I want to be with him.
The maître d’ is obviously expecting me because he says, “Miss Reynolds, please follow me,” and leads me to a big, cozy, leather-wrapped booth.
And guess what?
Phillip is actually here!
He sees me, gives me a big grin, and stands up. He kisses my cheek sweetly, and then lets me slide into the booth before him.
Finally! Some manners! Much better than the horn-honking, bossy, nazi limo driver I have been spending my time with.
“You’re late,” he says.
I give him an angry look before he kisses me again.
He is teasing me, I think.
Phillip looks very handsome. He’s got on a dark brown suit that matches his eyes. Under the suit, he’s wearing a light blue shirt and a really cool brown, blue, and orange tie. And, I will admit, when I got here I had my panties in a bit of a wad and was kinda irritated at Phillip. But, the minute I look at him, it all melts away. I’m pretty sure that means I do love him.
“You look incredible,” he tells me.
And I’m pretty sure he means it because his eyes are just riveted on me.
It makes me feel both nervous and powerful at the same time.
I think I could get away with just about anything in this dress.
Hmm. Maybe I’ll give it a try.
“Well,” I tell him, shaking my head, “I have been having quite the date without you. How did you ever find a limo driver that was a former male dancer? He was so cute. It was like having my own mini bachelorette party before our date. It was really nice of you to let me get that out of my system before we get too serious. Thank you so much!” I say very sincerely and very full of shit.
“The limo driver danced for you?” Phillip asks in disbelief. For a second, I see a little jealousy cross that cute face of his.
“Isn’t that why you hired him?” I ask, innocently, trying to control my smile.
“No,” he says angrily, but then sees my smirk, grabs me, kisses me again, and says, “You are so full of shit. I can’t believe I just fell for that.”
I laugh.
It’s good to know I can still get to him.
“Seriously, though, I suppose I should thank you for the limo ride, even though I didn’t like that you weren’t there. And let’s see, the incredible roses, and the spa, and the bracelet, and the dress…”
“I think the dress was for me,” he interrupts. “You look . . . beautiful, incredible, sexy . . . everything.”
Phillip keeps beaming at me. This dress feels practically magical. It may very well be, based on the way he’s looking at me.
It’s like he’s mesmerized, he’s hypnotized . . .
Hey, that reminds me of a movie.
Oh! I know!
Why this car is automatic, it’s systematic, it’s hyyydddrroomatic, why it’s greased lightin’. My mom and I loved to watch Grease. My friends always thought Danny Zuko was so cute, but I preferred Kenickie. Which isn’t a big surprise now that I think about it. I mean, if Phillip had to play one of the T-Birds from Grease, he’d definitely play Kenickie. But only because of how he looks—as in hot—cuz, let’s face it, Kenickie was kind of a jerk, and Phillip is so not.
The waiter comes over and pours us champagne, so I shove the movie and Kenickie to the back of my mind.
“You know, Phillip, I really should eat something before I drink any more.” I barely get the words out of my mouth, when another waiter starts setting an array of appetizers on our table. Phillip has obviously planned out this portion of the date in detail as well.
I immediately dig in.
I mean, I do it gracefully.
“You know,” I say between bites of crab cake, “your sister has us, like, practically married already. I thought we were going to try to keep this a secret.”
“Did you really think Mom could keep this to herself? After the plotting the two of them have been doing? They’re already congratulating themselves.”
“I know. I just don’t want them to get the wrong idea about us. I mean, it’s been a week. We don’t even know for sure what’s going on yet.”
“We don’t?”
“Well, I mean we’re having great fun and all, but . . . ”
“Here,” he says, interrupting me again and handing me another little box.
Another charm. Fabulous. Can’t wait to open it.
I’m sorry, but I’ve had about enough of these little things.
But, still, I try to look surprised and pleased as I open the box.
Oh, crap. Now I feel bad for thinking that.
Awwhh, I really do love this charm. In fact, it’s my favorite. It’s a little princess crown with pink jewels on the tips of the crown’s points.
Phillip raises his champagne glass in a toast. “This charm is my way of promising to always treat you like a princess.”
Okay, so the princess crown and what he said makes me melt a little, but come on!
I have about had it with all the romance.
This is so not Phillip! He’s a take-me-to-Hooters, watch-football, play-darts, go-jogging-with kind of guy. Not this mushy sap.
What has happened to him?
So, being the blunt girl that I am, I say, “Okay, Phillip, what gives? What’s with all this romance stuff? I’ve had almost as much as I can take. This is so not you.”
He smiles sweetly. “Well, I just wanted tonight to be a night that you would never forget. I wanted it to be very special.”
Very special? There are those pesky words again.
“Have your previous boyfriends ever done anything like this?”
“I think you already know the answer to that, Phillip,” I roll my eyes at him, “and, no, they have not.”
So I add the charm to my bracelet and eat another crab cake.
The waiter comes over.
Yay! He’s here to take my order, and I’m starved. Okay, I’m thinking a big steak, some garlic mashed potatoes . . . but then I notice he doesn’t have his little pad out.
Instead, he sets another box on the table in front of me.
I think I’m on present overload. Can’t I just play with what I already have?
But I want to please Phillip, so I smile at him and start to untie the bow on the box. At first, I think this is another charm, but I realize this box is bigger than the others.
Charm earrings, perhaps?
“Wait,” Phillip says.
He grabs both of my hands in his and looks into my eyes. “First, I want to tell you that I love you, that I’m in love with you. I know you wanted me to be serious when I said it, and I am. Princess, I have loved you for as long as I can remember.”
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br /> I smile at him, and I know he’s serious. I feel the same way.
Then he slides out of the booth, walks over to my side, kneels down on one knee in front of me, takes my hand in his, and says, “Will you marry me?”
WAIT!!
“WHAT!????!!!!?” What was that last part? I thought you said . . .
Phillip doesn’t respond to my question or my shocked look.Instead he slides back into the booth next to me, unties the ribbon on the box, and opens the lid.
And what’s inside is definitely not charm earrings.
What’s inside is a ring.
An ENGAGEMENT ring!
Absolutely. The. Most. Beautiful. Engagement. Ring. I. Have. Ever. Seen.
Yet, it looks strangely familiar to me.
But why?
I’ve never seen a ring like this. It’s so beautiful!
I look at Phillip, and then it hits me, “Oh my God, this is the ring I sketched.”
I am stunned.
I look at him, flabbergasted. That’s a very weird word, but no other word can accurately describe the way I must look.
Phillip smiles and pulls a little folded up piece of paper from the top of the box and hands it to me.
“No way,” I mutter and shake my head.
I unfold it, and there is my drawing.
He kept it.
Has he always known?
I mean, did he keep it because he knew months ago that he wanted to marry me?
I look at the ring again. A gorgeous two-carat emerald cut diamond in a platinum setting with baguettes diamonds on the crisscrossed sides.
I am staring at perfection.
This ring belongs on my finger.
I am dazed.
“So will you marry me?” Phillip says, jolting me back to reality.
“Phillip. No. I can’t marry you. We’re on our first date. What am I going to tell everyone? I know you didn’t even know we were dating, but on our first date we got engaged. It’s like the time in sorority, when one of the girls passed her candle and when she blew it out we were all like, which one is she marrying? Because she was dating, like, two different guys. I don’t want to be that girl, Phillip. Everyone will think we’re nuts.”
