wasn’t much help at all. We laughed until the job was complete and we both hopped in our seats and headed down to Queens.
The ride was going as smooth as could be. No traffic, good tunes, and great conversation made up the time we spent together in the car. Once we reached the Bronx on the Major Deegan Expressway, he started asking for directions.
“The Bronx is as far as I’ve ever been this way,” he said.
“Yankee Stadium?” I asked, as that’s why most people vistied the boogie down Bronx.
“Uh, no, I have some friends down here. Come to see them about once a month or so,” he explained.
I didn’t question it because some of my friends had friends that lived in the Bronx and we would come here once in a while to pick someone up or drop someone off. I wouldn’t hang out in certain parts though. The Bronx had some pretty tough neighborhoods.
“Well, if you come here that often, maybe we can meet up the next time you come. It’s a lot closer than going all the way upstate for me and I’d love to meet more of your friends,” I proposed, feeling that I’d overstepped my bounds by saying that I wanted to meet his friends.
“I don’t think so, Kid. I’ll drive all the way to you. That will never be a problem,” he said as he looked at me and reached over to hold my hand. Although a sweet sentiment, I couldn’t help but think that he turned down my offer because his so called friend was probably a lady friend. A pessimist at heart, I gave it my all to be optimistic, give Ramsey the benefit of the doubt, and enjoy the rest of the ride with him.
We held hands all the way through the Bronx until we went over the Triboro Bridge and crossed into Queens. The exit we needed to get off of was all the way to the right and getting there was a little tricky for the upstater. When he realized that he needed both hands on the wheel to make this maneuver, he released my hand, and my heart sank. It was at that moment that I realized distance would be a problem for me, as the simple absence of his hand affected me negatively. I sullenly helped him navigate through the narrow streets until we reached my house.
Queens isn’t like upstate in any way. I always know when I’m close to home after a trip upstate when I can no longer see the stars as I am being jostled around in the car, due to the immense number of potholes. Ramsey could not believe how close the houses were to each other and was amazed that there are ones that are actually connected. He admitted that he’d have trouble parallel parking on such a narrow street, as he was used to pulling into driveways as big as parking lots. I laughed as I told him to pull into our driveway, and he did as I directed.
He let out a long whistle upon seeing my father’s brand new beamer, sitting pretty in the driveway. “Nice ride,” Ramsey said. “Is that the used car you bought yourself?” I kiddingly smacked him in the chest and told him that he is an ass. We laughed for a second, then after shutting the car off, he said, “I have to admit that I’m a little nervous to meet your folks, and I’m never nervous about meeting parents. Parents are like my thing.” He winked at me, and I could see a hint of nerves on his face.
I leaned over and ran my hand through his brown locks. “Don’t be. They’re gonna love you,” I said, placing a gentle kiss on his lips. I could feel his lips form into a smile before he moved away from me. He then leaned into the back seat, grabbed my duffle and got out of the car.
Although my father made a nice living, my parents lived very modestly. We lived in a house that was only a few blocks away from the homes that my parents grew up in. They loved the neighborhood and would never leave it to live somewhere else. Our house was one of the only two story detached houses in North Village. It was classically made of red brick and had a beautiful big bay window, which sat right in front of the house looking out onto the street. As we made our way up the walkway, I could see my mother peering out of the window, trying to conceal herself with the curtains.
Once we walked up the stairs, we were met at the door by both of my parents. My mother gave me a huge hug, while my father eyed Ramsey up and down.
My parents, Adele and Gregory, are the sweetest people in the world, however at first look, they could be intimidating. My father stood at about six feet tall and had jet black hair, which was always slicked to the side. He had piercing green eyes, which had seen more trouble over his years than I hoped mine ever did. He always wore a suit to work, and typically stayed dressed like that for the entirety of the day. He was a sharp looking man, and he was a man to be reckoned with.
My mother wasn’t as tall as my father, but still seemed statuesque standing at 5’5”. She had brown, wavy hair that sat perfectly on her shoulders. Her skin was like porcelain, which made a perfect contrast for the red lipstick that always adorned her lips. Her smile alone could brighten up a room, but once she opened her mouth, she always stole the show. I never looked at anyone as adoringly as I did my mother.
“Oh it’s so good to see you,” my mother squealed as she squeezed me, acting as if it had been ages since we’d seen each other. In reality, it was only two days. “Come in kids, come in,” she insisted.
We walked into the living room, which was decorated traditionally with beautiful antique accents. Another thing that I loved about my mother was her decorating sense. Our home was beautiful to look at, yet so livable and cozy. She really did make our house a home. Ramsey put my bag on the floor, as he extended his hand to my father.
“Hi Mr. Faris. I’m David Ramsey. Nice to meet you,” Ramsey said, not doing a very stellar job of concealing his nerves.
My dad shook his hand and questioned, “David?” He looked over to me and asked, “Karen, is his name really David?” Then he quickly looked back at Ramsey and asked, “Is your name really David?”
“Unfortunately, yes, but please just call me Ramsey,” he said.
“That I’ll do, Ramsey. Have a seat,” my father said as he gestured to the couch.
Ramsey sat down on the green sofa and I sat myself next to him, but not too close as I knew that my father would be scrutinizing every move we made. My parents each sat on an armchair that sat opposite the sofa. There wasn’t tension in the room, rather a feeling of nervousness, on all of our parts.
I thought I’d break the ice by telling my father about Ramseys fabulous pitching arm. An avid sports fan, my intrigued father asked him a million questions about baseball, and then the conversation took a turn about his plans for the future. When Ramsey told my father that he wanted to get into finance, my father’s face lit up like a kid on Christmas.
With a good conversational flow going on between the men, I got up to get us some drinks and my mother followed me into the kitchen. She hugged me from behind as I closed a cabinet after grabbing some glasses and said, “He’s a really nice boy, Karen. I can tell.”
“Thanks Mom. Yeah, he seems pretty great,” I said. “But he just lives so far away,” I said, my demeanor changing.
“Well, if it’s meant to be, you’ll make it work,” my mother told me, sounding so wise in the moment. We made our way back to the living room and took our same seats.
A little while later, when the grandfather clock rang at six o’clock, Ramsey stood up and announced that it was time that he headed back.
“Do you need to call your mother, dear, and let her know you’re on your way?” my mother asked.
“No, that’s ok. I told her that I’d be home by eight, so I better get moving in case there’s traffic.”
We all stood up to bid him farewell, my father shaking his hand and my mother hugging him saying, “Thank you for getting my baby home safely.”
“It was my pleasure, Mrs. Faris. I hope to see you again soon,” Ramsey said, laying the charm on thick. My mother ate it right up, as she was a sucker for that stuff.
“I’ll be right back,” I said, as I walked Ramsey out to his Jeep with a knot in my stomach. I feared what would become of my happiness once he drove away. I reached up and threw my arms around him and kissed