Two weeks before the prom, she was waiting for me."Hi, Zeb, got a minute?" she said."Frances?" Yes, Zeb, Frances, me. Got a minute?" she repeated."Yes... For you, of course," I said. She smiled indulgently."Zeb, you know my boyfriend, Trey Mitchel, right?" she said."I know he's the star quarterback and about all everything else," I said "But, know him? No, we travel in different circles, actually." I got a look from her for my remarks."Well, yes, he is kind of the man about campus, I guess," she. I was becoming increasingly afraid even to notice a passing waitress. If I looked at another woman I got the third degree, “why are you looking at her”, “suddenly I’m not good enough”, “wasn’t she the one you danced with last week”, “you never pay any attention to me anymore when we’re out”, “why are you always look at other women”, and on and on and on. I had no interest in other women except to see what they had on. She seldom saw it that way; she was always looking for salacious intent. Lisa. White ceiling. White arm. Navy comforter. I hear footsteps coming through the kitchen and a not so cordial, ‘What?’ I don’t want to freak her out so I decide to be discrete. ‘I need help finding my phone.’ I hear her laugh. She must think I’m pathetically hung over. I hear her enter my room and her phone rings. ‘What up, girl?’ Jesus, I’m in hell. Can’t she tell that I need help? I imagine myself foolishly splayed across the bed, the ridiculousness of it meriting her attention. ‘Leslie,’ I try. The only store near the park is Farmer Jack’s. Just go out the park entrance, turn left and it is about 4 miles down on your right.”“Thank you. I will likely see you later.”I took my time in the Chevy, driving slowly out of the park. Moving along the winding road, I noticed a number of people walking about; families, singles, and many children. There was a group of young girls off to the left. If body development meant maturity, these young ladies were very mature. Couldn’t help wondering how.
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