So Tammy was cute and fairly
quiet. She sat in the back row of
church. One Sunday, I struck up a
conversation with her, and though she didn’t say much to make me think she might
like to be around me, I asked her out to a picnic to see the Forth of July
fireworks show on Mt. Rubidoux.
Half the city goes to the base of
Mt. Rubidoux and watches the fireworks from the Redwood Cemetery. It’s a tradition.
I went and picked up Tammy, drove
to the cemetery and pulled down onto a little access road. I got out of my van the raised the wheelchair
lift into the up position. Then I threw
a tablecloth over the lift, set it like a table with the picnic basket and got
a folding chair out of the back for her to use.
It was almost a bit romantic—if you can forget this is in the middle of
a graveyard.
After we ate, the sun was going
down, and we watched the fireworks show.
People noticed the picnic, and gave us strange looks, but they were
there—in the same cemetery—to see the show, so who were they to call anyone
strange?
That pretty much covers our first
date, and though Tammy was wearing feathers in her hair, I thought she was
maybe endearingly quirky. It was worth a
second date to find out more, so I asked her to dinner and a movie.
When I went to pick her up, I don’t
remember exactly what she wore, but there were, in fact, other feathers. I wonder now if this should have been a
warning sign, but subtlety often escapes me.
We headed toward the part of town
where the theatre was, and I asked if she had any preferences for where to
eat. Emphatically, she told me that she
wasn’t hungry and couldn’t eat a bite.
This caught me off guard because I had asked her to dinner and a movie. I drove
to the center where the theatre was and figured we’d waist the time I had
planned for eating at a local coffee house.
When we got to the front of the
line at the coffee house, I made my order and asked Tammy what she would like
to drink.
At this coffee house, their menu
had every type of coffee and tea drink imaginable. There were even several items not containing
the title fare, but Tammy asked for Juice.
Of all the items that were on that menu, juice was not one of them. I’m now becoming a little weirded out.
I reasoned with her a bit, but
Tammy held true to her convictions and insisted on juice. We left the coffee house without buying
anything. We then went to the fast food
restaurant two doors down, and I bought her a peel-top cup of orange juice that
they had on their breakfast menu. We sat
outside in silence while she drank it.
When we finally went into the
theatre lobby, the smell of freshly made popcorn wrapped around us like a
blanket, and Tammy said, “Oooh, can we get some popcorn?”
I was thinking, Aren’t you the girl who couldn’t eat a
bite?, but I said, “If you want some.”
First, we went into the theatre,
where I got her situated in a seat somewhat close to the front (at her
request), then I went to get her some popcorn.
I doubt that it comes as much of a surprise, that when I went back into
the theatre, Tammy was in the back row.
I didn’t ask.
I did tell her that I had the
popcorn, and she informed me that she hated even the smell of popcorn and would
need to sit a seat farther away if I would be eating popcorn. At this point, I’m starting to wonder if I’m
possibly being punked or something.
Deciding that I’ve just won the What’s-going-on-here Lotto, I ate the
popcorn as the movie began.
Fifteen minutes into the movie,
Tammy leans over to me and whispers, “Is it okay if I go sit in the car?”
I wasn’t ready for that one and
queried, “You want to leave?” Incredulously.
Tammy brightened and said, “If you do.”
On the ride back to drop her off at
her apartment, there was silence. This
silence was finally broken by Tammy looking over at me and asking, “Can I touch
you?”
This night of adventure in Oz no
longer had the potential to shock me, and I responded with as much nonchalance
as I could muster, “Sure. Live it up.”
Tammy reached over timidly and
gently squeezed my right elbow twice, then folded her hand back in her lap. The rest of the trip to her apartment was
uneventful and so was my dropping her off.
No conversation, no goodnight kiss, no more that a thankful “Goodnight.”
I’ve since learned that Tammy
actually suffers from a mild form of schizophrenia, and what I saw as quirky
was the La La Land she lives in. My mistake.
That date has taken its place in my
memory as a high water mark of strangeness in my romantic life. It’s not a wonder I’ve never married.
