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If You See Patricia ... Part Three
Note: In Part One, published April 19, Foxy was rejected by Patricia for the first time. In Part Two, published April 20, Foxy was rejected by Patricia for the second time.
It was 1966 and I'd been spurned twice by Patricia, the girl with the wisp of hair slightly over her right eye. I decided that I had to move on. Somewhere I had read, "There are plenty of fish in the sea." Problem was I had never been fishing in my life. During the sad times in my life I like to immerse myself in music, listen to the lyrics of some of my favorite songs. As Paul Simon wrote, "I have my books and my poetry to protect me."
So the following Saturday I was downtown in Woolworth's on Margaret Street, looking over record albums. I planned on immersing myself into Simon & Garfunkel or perhaps some Gordon Lightfoot to help me forget Patricia. As I browsed the hundreds of record albums to choose from, I glanced up and felt a sudden lump in my throat. There, across the album bins, was Patricia. She, too, was looking at the record albums. She was about ten feet away, with the wisp of hair slightly over her right eye.
Well, I'm no dummy! This time I would play it cool. I would pretend that I didn't even notice her. But she noticed me ... and she started nonchalantly moving towards me. I've always had good peripheral vision, something taught to me by Coach Flynn during my high school basketball days. So, I keep perusing the albums in front of me while slyly keeping an eye on her movements. Within minutes she was right next to me. But I'm no dummy! This time I was playing it foxy.
Suddenly, as she reached for an album in front of her, she "accidentally" hit my elbow. We both did one of those "Oh, sorry, oh, sorry" bits and then we both looked at each other. Patricia, the most beautiful girl I had ever seen, was just a foot away. We smiled at each other fondly and began a friendly conversation about music, about our lives, about the stores downtown, about her new air force base she would be living at next month. Our conversation just seemed so natural, so easy. She reached up and touched my black goatee and said, "Oh, it's soft, not picky. I like it."
Well, I'm no dummy! I can add one and one! I knew it was Saturday, and I knew she had made an effort to "accidentally" bump my elbow. I knew we were both enjoying each other's company, and I knew that my social calendar was empty for Saturday night. I just had to ask, "Patricia, would you like to go to the movies tonight?"
She looked at me intently. With her right index finger she touched the wisp of hair slightly over her right eye, and she said, "No." She quickly added, "I can't. Tonight is my father's going away party at the NCO Club. I have to be there. It's a whole family thing." I'm sure she saw the look of disappointment on my face. She said she should be going. We smiled at each other. I held her hand for a few seconds, wishing her good luck at her new home. She turned and moved towards the front door of the store. As she opened the door to exit, she turned one last time. She smiled. The most beautiful girl I had ever seen, the girl with the wisp of hair slightly over her right eye, left the store, and walked forever out of my life.
Three rejections from the same girl would be enough for any man's lifetime. For the rest of my life, one rejection would always be enough. But for some reason I never forgot Patricia. I'm sure she does not remember that guy from Our Lady of Victory Academy and Plattsburgh State who asked her to the movies three times.
But wouldn't it be amazing if Patricia is out there reading this blog right now? Wouldn't it be amazing if I saw her walking through the mall? I'd know her, that is for certain. She'd be the girl with the wisp of hair slightly over her right eye. If you see Patricia, tell her I said hello.
Comments
I’m not sure where all this ‘sensitivity’ prose is going, sounds like the start of a Harlequin Romance Novel. It may be affecting your readers as I ran into ‘the carver’ and ‘the old timer’ in the fruit section of the grocery store the other day; at least I think it was them. They each had mashed potatoes in their carts and I witnessed them staring longingly towards each other, and wondered if they were trying to recreate or solve the ‘code’. I think I heard one of them mentioning a neighboring state and some sort of civil union as a possible link, but I can’t be sure. I contemplated giving them the ‘nod’ but realized I didn’t know how to pull it off. I know it made me want to go to work this morning to delay retirement for another day. Be careful what you write, you’ve become a powerful force on these unsuspecting minds.
Did ‘the carver’ say “W” was working on his 60-year reunion-must be another old retiree. (tbi)
Posted by: Tom-A-Hawk | April 21, 2006 8:55 PM