After leaving, I drove first to Price Chopper and picked Marilyn up a nice bouquet of flowers, and set them carefully on the floor of the Galaxie as I drove over. The weather had turned, and snow was staring to fall, which sucked. The Galaxie, like all cars from the late Sixties, was rear wheel drive, which simply didn’t handle as well in the snow as I would have liked. Still, if you’re careful, you’ll do fine. I kept my speed down.
I parked near the entrance I had dropped Marilyn off at this morning, and grabbed the flowers and headed inside. There was actually a small booth near the door where you had to stop and ask for your party. While Saint Rose was coed, it was mostly girls, and the dorms were not coed. They didn’t allow Y chromosomes inside. I asked for Marilyn and a call was made. They actually had room phones.
Marilyn came down a couple of minutes later, followed closely by a pair of giggling girls who must have been roommates or friends. Marilyn was wearing a pair of dressy slacks which looked like they had been painted on, and a crisp white blouse, with two inch heels and her hair tied back with a ribbon. She was carrying the same coat she had worn last night, a truly hideous down filled parka. She smiled when she saw me, and then her breath caught as she saw the flowers.
“They’re not as pretty as you,” I said, handing them to her.
She blushed at that, and sniffed them. “Thank you. You shouldn’t have.” Marilyn’s friends stayed a few feet back and giggled at this.
I leaned in and whispered, “It was the least I could do, considering you slept with me last night.” Marilyn turned beet red and swatted at me with her free hand, and I just laughed. “Maybe you should get one of your friends to take these upstairs?”
The two girls giggled some more, but came up. One took the flowers, and the other said, “You’re cute. Any more like you where you come from?”
“Sorry, darling, but after I was born, the nurses took one look at me and decided to break the mold!” That got some more giggles, especially after Marilyn swatted me again. I held her coat and helped her into it, and then escorted her to the car. As I expected, she simply marched up to the passenger side door and went to open it. I had to unlock it for her, and then let her in. “Allow me,” I told her, before going around and climbing into the driver’s side. I remembered that Marilyn didn’t have much experience with dating or guys, and didn’t know we were supposed to open doors for girls. The only guys she really had experience with at this point were her brothers back home.
It brought back to me that it was simply an amazing fluke we had ever met to begin with. I never quite figured out why Marilyn ever came to that party in the first place. She was never a big party-goer, and didn’t have much experience with boys in general or frats. I don’t know whatever possessed her to come to Kegs in the first place, but it must have been with some girls from Saint Rose. That they left her there at the end of the night always indicated to me that they weren’t close friends. Maybe she simply got swept up when we were loading the meat wagon. Anyway, that’s how we met, and if it was pure luck, it was the luckiest thing that ever happened to me.
I looked at her sitting across from me in the car. “I didn’t say it inside, but you look really nice tonight.”
“Thank you. I wasn’t expecting my roommates to come downstairs with me.”
“Well, don’t complain, they got to take your flowers back to the room.”
She chuckled at that, and we got moving. It was easier to head back out to 787 and take 90 over to the Northway, then head out Central Avenue. That would take us forever with the lights. Once we got on the highway, I asked, “Did you have anything particular in mind tonight?”
“No, not really. The only times I’ve been out to dinner here have been when my parents have been picking me up or dropping me off,” she answered.
“They’re not much for anything fancy?”
Marilyn shook her head. “Howard Johnson’s is fancy for them.”
“I was thinking a step or two above that, if that’s all right with you.” I smiled as I said this. I already knew far more about her folks then I ever wanted to know.
“That’s all right. They’re just not real fancy people. Did you have a place you wanted to go?”
I shrugged. “Not really. I would bet my bottom dollar, though, we can find a steak place over on Wolf Road. Care for some surf and turf?”
Marilyn’s eyes lit up at that, as I knew they would. “That sounds nice.”
“I bet we can even find a place where they have silly little drinks with umbrellas for you,” I replied teasingly.
We talked about what we told our roommates as we drove west. Marilyn admitted she was too embarrassed to tell them what I told her, but just said she fell asleep on the couch and got a lift back this morning. When she asked what I had said, I laughed and told her the story I had told Frank. She was both horrified and laughing as I described it.
“I can’t believe you told him that! It’s not true!” she protested.
“Tell me one thing I lied about.”
“Well, we didn’t sleep together!” she said.
I wagged my finger at her. “Excuse me? You want to try that again?”
“Well, not like that!”
“I never said we did anything more than sleep. I never said anything of the sort. If he wishes to think more than that, it’s his morality which is compromised, not mine, and certainly not yours,” I said.
“But he thinks I’m, well, I’m not going to say,” she said primly.
I had to laugh at that. “It gets better. I told him about the duel and that Bradley was my second. Wait until he hears from him!”
We both started laughing at that. As I expected, I found a decent steak house towards the northern end of Wolf Road, near the hotels and the road to the airport. The snow was keeping some people home, so we only had to wait about five minutes for a booth. Once seated, the hostess asked us if we wanted drinks to start off with. I glanced over at Marilyn and smiled. “Definitely.”
Marilyn looked at me. “Like what?”
I chuckled and looked at the hostess. “Do you have anything sort of frozen and funny colored with an umbrella?”
She laughed loudly at that, even as Marilyn protested, and then pulled a couple of menus with drinks listed off the wall of the booth. “Here, look these over. I’ll be back in a couple of minutes.”
Marilyn looked the little book over in fascination; each page had a different concoction, often with a tropical theme. “What should I get?”
“Whatever you want,” I replied. “You’d probably like one of the rum drinks, though. That might be sweeter.”
“And you? Are you getting one of these?” she asked.
“Gin and tonic.” I reflected on my changing tastes in booze. When I had been young, back then, I had figured that being a Southerner meant I had to like bourbon, like my father did. The truth was that I don’t like bourbon; it’s too sour and tart for me. I can’t stand Scotch either, which tastes like bad medicine. On the other hand, I do like Canadian whiskey, which is predominately rye, or Irish whiskey. Also, I discovered that more than a few bartenders can’t make a sour to save their lives, but it’s almost impossible to screw up a gin and tonic.
Our waitress came along and introduced herself, and asked if we were ready to order our drinks. Marilyn gave an embarrassed look, but then ordered a Bahama Mama, which looked like a blue daiquiri. The waitress looked at me. “Should I make that two?”
“God forbid! I’ll have a gin and tonic. Tanqueray is fine.”
She nodded and went on her way. Marilyn looked at me. “What’s that? Tangerine?”