First Date

by Liz Zuercher

I was fourteen, almost fifteen, when James and I had our first date.  After that we never dated anyone else.

I met James at the lake that summer when I went with my girlfriends to stay with Kate’s family in their rented cottage for a couple of weeks.  James’ family owned a place a few doors down from Kate’s and all the kids would hang out together.  We’d swim all day and in a big group we’d have campfires at night or go to the drive-in movie at Haywood Springs, the little town nearby.  Each carload of teenagers had a mom or dad driver.  They didn’t give us an inch of leeway to get into trouble in those days, and they didn’t allow any pairing off.  Kate’s mom was especially strict, and she made sure we girls knew she had her eye on us.  Being a no-nonsense, outspoken woman, she’d say,  “No one’s getting pregnant on my watch!”

I remember that Georgie was always trying to find a way to get off in the woods with Terry Metcalf, but I was too scared of Kate’s mom to try to sneak off with James.  Besides, it was all so new to me, this boy/girl thing, and I was content to be with James in the group and get to know him that way.

James was two years older than I was and he had just gotten his driver’s license.  We probably could have gone for a ride together in his dad’s Buick, but I think maybe James was uneasy about the whole thing, too, because he never even suggested it.  We were both happy the way things were, taking it slow.  We had two great weeks together with the group at the lake and then didn’t see each other until right before school started up again.

James’ family came back from the lake in late August and he came over to my house one afternoon.  We sat on the porch swing and talked for two hours while I babysat my little brothers and sisters.  When my parents came home, they met James and I could see they were sizing him up.  They seemed to approve of what they saw.  And why wouldn’t they?

James was polite and well spoken and it didn’t hurt that he was good-looking.  He was tall and muscular, but in a wiry way, like the cross county runner he was.  He seemed more mature and self-possessed than his years.  But the way his sandy hair sometimes flopped down onto his forehead made him a teenage boy again.  He’d push it back into place with a quick flick of his fingers and he’d be back to mature put-together James.  He was still doing the same thing forty years later, and it always made my heart melt.

We looked like a couple who belonged together right from the start, as if we’d both just come from Germany with our blond hair and blue eyes, straight noses and strong chins.  We could have been mistaken for brother and sister, like those old married couples that grow to look like each other after decades of marriage.  With James and me as teenagers it was like we’d already lived those years together and were already melding into one.

Louie insisted James and I had been together in a previous lifetime and that’s why we were so perfectly matched, why we clicked so quickly without any of the drama most teenage couples go through.  Maybe she’s right.  I do know there was an instant connection between us and once we met each other there was never anyone else for either of us.

That August afternoon on the porch was the first of many.  Every afternoon James would come over and we’d sit in the swing together.  Finally, after a few weeks of that James got up the nerve to ask me out on a proper date.  Since he’d become such a fixture at our house, my parents said it was okay, but they didn’t want him driving us anywhere. 

So James came on foot to pick me up on that Saturday, and as we walked downtown to the movie theater, he took my hand.  We ate popcorn and drank cokes and he put his arm around me during the movie.  We walked back home holding hands and when we got back to my house, we sat on the swing in the dim glow of the porch light.  He kissed me full on the lips for the first time.  We sat close and talked, swinging back and forth together until someone inside flicked the porch light off and on.  One more kiss at the front door sealed the perfect first date for James and me.  It wasn’t a fancy date, but it was just right for us.

Sometimes in these months since James passed away, I go out on the porch and sit in the swing trying to feel close to him.  Louie tells me he’s swinging with me, but I don’t feel it.  I think he’s on his way to the next place in time where we will discover each other all over again.  I hope he waits for me there.