The Lunch Date

So my mother loves America. Everything about it. If not for her accent, she could be mistaken for an average Mid-Western American woman. She has her hair cut in a Jackie-O-type do. And though she usually dresses in slacks or skirts, she loves to throw on a denim jacket to make it more casual. Recently she's taken to using slang - actually both my parents are guilty of this. If you've ever met my mother you may have heard her say the following: CHECK THIS! (translation= Check this out!) I told you how she likes to add extra syllables to words. Well she makes up for it by sometimes removing words from phrases. And if she gets worked up about something and Dad wants her to relax, he'll tell her so in the following manner: CHILL UP! (translation = Chill Out) I give them leeway because they are trying to balance two cultures - even more than I am. It's hard to pick up as an adult and move to a new country. Look how it affected me, and I only had four years to worry about. They had 28 plus years. You can imagine the compromises and the struggle to maintain your tradition and culture, while at the same time living in a modern time and place. They did their best to assimilate and give me the life of a normal American girl. I had ballet lessons. I went to sleepaway camp. I was a girl scout. I delivered newspapers. I went to school dances (chaperoned, mind you.) As I got older I got to go to Rock Concerts. I went to parties (chaperoned...well most of them were) I hung out with boys in a group. I just couldn't hang out with them one on one. I was not allowed to date. Anything that resembled a one-on-one encounter with a member of the opposite sex was not allowed. When I was 16, I worked as a lifeguard at the neighborhood pool. Though my father wasn't too keen on the idea that I'd literally be up on a pedestal in my bathing suit so men could ogle me, the fact that I was potentially saving lives by preventing drownings resonated with him more. So he gave me his blessing. And I embarked on what still is now my favorite job. I got to hang out in the sun, get a tan, swim and I got paid for it! My dad also discovered he liked going to the pool. He would show up every day with a pharmacy textbook. Like my mother, he too was a pharmacist. So he'd bring his Principles of Pharmacokinetics tome, along with his purple beach towel and stake his claim - far enough from me so as not to embarrass me, but close enough to have a clear vantage point in case some male gave me too much attention. Luckily Dad's surveillance only lasted a couple of weeks. The sun started giving him headaches and he got bored. Anyway, that summer I met my first crush. Well my first teenage crush ( I had a crush on a boy named Theodore in 2nd grade, which I'll tell you about later...) His name was Kevin. Kevin Bartlett He was cute! He looked like a young Timothy Hutton. And he had the cutest mullet. He managed the concession stand at the pool and at first he didn't seem to notice I existed. He was quiet and smart - always reading books on historical figures. I think he wanted to work in the CIA or something. I wonder if he ever did.... I spent half the summer ordering nachos and pizzas and popcorn at the stand, trying to make conversation and look cute and whatever it took to get him to find me interesting. But still he didn't seem to bite. Until the last week of summer. All the kids had started school and so the pool was relatively empty. We amused ourselves by making water balloons and hurling them at each other and by throwing each other in the pool when that person least expected it. Well one day Kevin was part of the festivities. And without saying anything he picked me up and threw me into the pool. And I knew! He loved me! He absolutely loved me. I was in! We made small talk about nothing and everything. He went to a private high school across town but was staying with his mom for the summer (parents were divorced.) Blah, blah, blah - this stuff was interesting to me, but probably boring to you so I'll skip over it. Anyway, because I didn't have a car yet, I called my dad and told him that I was going to get a ride from a friend - which he was happy about because he was listening to some soccer game on the radio and didn't want to be interrupted. And then I asked Mike if he wouldn't mind dropping me off. Which he did - giving me 14 precious more minutes with him til he reached my house. I said goodbye as cute as I could and went inside. And I was walking on air. Not long after that, as I was taking a shower I heard the doorbell ring, and my father go to answer it. I heard him exchange a few words with whoever it was, and then he shut the door. I didn't think anything of it, until Dad told me who it was. I'll give you the script form of what happened so you can really live it. DOORBELL RINGS DAD opens it to reveal KEVIN standing there. KEVIN: Hi, Mr. Beker. Is Sami home? DAD (peering over his glasses) Yes. KEVIN: Well I was wondering if she wanted to go out for lunch or something. DAD: No, she doesn't. KEVIN: ..but can you ask her? DAD: No. Son, you go and enjoy your lunch, okay? She cannot join you. Dad turns and shuts the door, leaving Kevin standing shaken on the porch. Dejected he walks away. Two moments later, I, in sweatpants and wet hair, fling open the door to catch him, but it's too late. Dad told me later that he didn't like the idea of a the boy assuming he could just come over and that I be ready for him. I saw Kevin the pool the next day and tried to explain, but he seemed more interested in his book on the American Civil War. The next summer I was excited to see that Kevin was working at the pool again, this time as a lifeguard. I could redeem myself! But sadly, he decided a week before that to travel with his Dad to Brazil for the summer.