what time to arrive and what to wear to this event. She also made a point to mention that Andres and Kyle were not invited (she didn’t mention Christian at all and I didn’t ask). I noticed the special delight she took in relaying those conditions to me, the twinkle in her eye when she over emphasized NOT INVITED. The church had a way of instilling an either “you are with us or you are against us” attitude in regular attendees. Overtime, I noticed this way of thinking infiltrate the character of even the most staunchly nonconformist of personalities. Glenda stood back behind the doorway listening to our interchange, every so often bringing attention to her presence with a cough or a clearing of the throat. Eve always acted mature beyond her thirteen years and so successfully ignored Glenda during most of the conversation but made it a point to say, “Have a nice day ma’am” before turning and leaving.
Eve’s mother must have been relieved when she finally saw Eve emerge from our home because she gave Glenda a fast flick of the hand in good-bye and drove off (she obviously had other homes to visit and limited time for chatting). I didn’t know what to make of the invitation, not entirely sure if I even wanted to attend. I liked Eve but could barely call her a friend. I wasn’t sure what other children would be at this party since Eve was also a bit of a loner. Her parents on the other hand were social butterflies of the church. I imagined that most of the other attendees would be children of friends of Eve’s parents; I may be the only person Eve personally invited or wanted to invite. Glenda must have been thinking the same thing because she brought it up that night at the dinner table (which also required mandatory attendance).
I had just devoured my helping of stewed chicken with undercooked rice (most things Glenda made were undercooked). Andres sat across from me making sure to load up on as much protein as possible. Christian, well he was typical Christian, happily eating his food in silence.
“So Jeremy was invited to a birthday party this weekend.” She made the comment casually in a very matter of fact way.
I was just about to ask to be excused from the dinner table but with that sank back further into my chair, preparing myself for the next sentences.
Andres spoke first. “Whose birthday?” He wore a look of puzzlement on his face probably mentally indexing the dates of all the IMPORTANT people’s birthdays.
“Eve Newmont,” Glenda replied.
I waited patiently for Andres insulting comment but none were forthcoming. We sat in silence for a minute then Glenda spoke again, “So we will need to get you something to wear tomorrow. I don’t want you going to the Newmont’s looking homeless.”
Glenda was a stickler on the dress of young boys. She felt khakis required extra amounts of starch in the ironing process or they just weren’t “professional looking.” She also felt that you weren’t dressed unless you wore a bow tie. I hated bow ties, the way they made my neck feel imprisoned by cotton and small amounts of twisted metal. I secretly wished for the day when I could toss bow ties from my wardrobe. For now though, I knew a freshly starched pair of khakis and a nice new bow tie were in my immediate future.
“May I be excused?” I asked hoping to cut this conversation short. I pushed my chair back quickly creating a scraping noise against the severely aged hardwood floors. Glenda was not ready to end the conversation but instead of addressing my question, she just continued talking about things that none of us were interested in. I focused my attentions on the charcoal-looking ceiling fan in the adjacent living area. The only thing I really heard after her ten minutes of ramblings about the Newmont’s and how they only invited people they liked to their home, was that tomorrow we would go to the local Salvation Army store to look for a “new” dress shirt and khakis for me.
Andres excused himself first in the middle of one of Glenda’s sentences, claiming that he forgot he needed to call a teammate to get a ride for practice tomorrow night (practice was on Wednesday and everyone else in the family had bible class that night). Glenda nodded approval at his departure and then settled her attention on me (Christian still sitting there picking at his chicken bones).
“So are you excited?” She asked me.
“No,” I said. I wasn’t, I didn’t even know if I really wanted to attend, but knew that Glenda would not allow me to NOT attend given that the event was being held at the Newmont’s home and she had never been invited there herself. Andres though knew of Eve’s two older brothers who were known in school as beating all of the track and field records as well as being superb soccer players. He didn’t make any additional comments at the table, but later that night he questioned me about the upcoming festivities.
“Excited? He asked when I had settled into my bunk that night.
“About what?” I was caught off guard having forgotten about Eve Newmont and her birthday party hours ago.
“The party. You know that silly girl’s party?” I knew Andres knew her name as well as her brother’s name but in obvious mock disregard for them or their importance, he casually “forgot” her name. This was typical Andres, not interested in acknowledging anyone as important but himself.
“Not really.” I paused. “I haven’t really thought about it.”
“Is she like, your girlfriend?” Andres, who at this point was laid out on the top bunk, looked down at me with a smirk on his face. He was obviously inferring that Eve and I were in some way attached. This was furthest from my feeble mind; I was still stuck on Spider Man and his supremacy over Batman. Girls—and especially me linked to a girl—were furthest from my thoughts.
The rumor around school and church was that Andres and Kyle both had girlfriends. Andres was “linked” supposedly to Stephanie Kramer, a long raven-haired senior. Kyle was supposedly dating Emily Myers who had left for college earlier that year. Emily was also a member of our church but hadn’t been back to Charlotte in months since she’d left for college in September. I say supposedly in reference to both Kyle and Andres’s relationships because I never really saw them do anything with these girls except an occasional trip to the movies or school dance. Therefore, I didn’t understand what the big deal was with claiming to have a girlfriend.
“No, she is not my girlfriend. I don’t even know why she invited me.” I was being honest. I still questioned Eve’s invite to her birthday party but didn’t dwell on it too long.
“Seems like she wants to be your girlfriend.”
I ignored Andres’s comment and turned off the lights. I could hear Glenda’s steps outside the door and didn’t want her to come into the room and continue this conversation.
The next day after school, Glenda had placed two dress shirts on the lower bunk and a semi-worn pair of green khakis. She made it a point to mention to me that green khakis were “all the rage” in Kitty Hawk when she was growing up and only worn by the truly wealthy and elite. She showed me the label, “Ralph Lauren,” which was supposed to mean something significant to me but did not.
“These are nice pants. Eve’s brothers wear Ralph Lauren,” she told me after forcing me to try them on several times with a variety of bow ties. She settled on the green khakis with a white dress shirt and a striped green bow tie. I looked at myself in the mirror and admitted subconsciously that I did like the look. I usually wore the same color khakis (brown) so the green was a new twist. Glenda also insisted on cutting my hair with the flowbie that she had just recently purchased at the dollar general store. The flowbie created an uneven and alternative hairline, but was better than the unruly curls that had grown recently from my lack of grooming.
After she had completed her “makeover,” she took a step back taking in the whole scene. She stood looking at me for minutes without words and I could see a tear forming in her left eye.
“What’s wrong?” I asked questioning how my haircut could be the cause of tears.
“You just remind me so much of your father,” she said wiping the tear from her eye with a crumpled swatch of tissue. I felt an uneasy knot developing in my stomach but didn’t feel any tears forthcoming. I had cried often when my parents first died, afraid that if I went to sleep I would somehow wake up