You remember, don't you? It was the time when Disco was going out and New Wave was coming in. You were sitting with a friend in a place called Yesteryear, one of those "theme" places for nostalgia buffs. You and your friend weren't exactly nostalgia buffs, but you dug some of the music and were curious about what the place looked like. Red vinyl upholstery covered the seats, pics of scenes from the fifties and sixties adorned the walls and fake Tiffany lamps hung overhead on every booth, also equipped with Seeburg jukeboxes.
You were listening to "Devil or Angel," a Bobby Vee hit from 1960, while checking out that cutie dressed in a plaid skirt sitting at the counter with a man and woman who looked old enough to be her parents. She was so pretty, dressed in a plaid skirt and a yellow sweater over a white blouse, and her shapely calves were covered in turquoise socks that stretched almost to her lovely knees, and over those socks she wore a pair of brown loafers. You also remember her hair, strawberry-blond, worn in a late Eisenhower-Kennedy era doo, the bangs that covered most of her forehead and the cute way she had it flipped up in back and the yellow bow set in front.
People came here to get a feel for an era when life wasn't so fast and complicated, when the country was more innocent. Or so you heard from those who lived through it. You had just finished college, too young to remember those times but old enough to appreciate what it must have been like. And maybe that's why that girl and her parents were there. She looked a little younger than you, so maybe she was still in high school, you thought. You looked at her and thought maybe, just maybe, she'd like it if you approached her. After all, she did look your way and smiled, before turning back around. But you were shy and inexperienced in the ways of approaching girls you didn't know--a pickup artist you weren't. "Go up to her, whataya got to lose?" your friend Eric said.
He said this as the song ended, and then you dropped a nickel into the slot to hear "Let It Be Me," one of your dad's faves from his collection of old 45s. So beautiful, so romantic, and the girl must have thought so too, because you saw her lip-syncing along with the music, and you wanted to hug her for that alone, along with her wholesome looks and eyes you were close enough to see were blue. "I'm in love," you said to your friend, who chuckled and shook his head.
'I bless the day I found you, I wanna stay around you...'
Oh, yeah, that music, those lyrics, they were made for that moment weren't they, and all you could do was sit there like some bump on a log and steal glimpses of that girl, fantasizing about what you wanted to happen while knowing damn well it never would.
'Don't take this heaven from one
If you must cling to someone
Now and forever, let it be me...'
Easy for the brothers Everly, you thought, those ex-Marines blessed with angelic voices and all-American good looks. No doubt, they fought off the groupies who hung around after their shows. And then there was you, Mr. Average looking who blended in with the crowd with your short, sandy-colored hair and a physique built for the competitive swimmer you were in high school and college. A good swimmer you were, too, though hardly in league with Mark Spitz or future great Michael Phelps.
'Each time we meet, love
I find complete love
Without your sweet love
What would life be?'
You knew what life would be because you were living it, living with a longing for finding the sort of love that a million songs were written about, a longing that always deepened when you saw girls like the one that sat just a few steps away--so near and yet so far. You knew that if you let this opportunity go, you'd be kicking yourself, just like you always did when you let that sort of opportunity slip from your grasp like so many brass rings on so many merry-go-rounds in so many amusement parks. "Carpe Diem," your friend said.
Seize the day, yes, that's what you needed to do because life was short, as your grandparents were always saying, and moments like this might never come again.
'So, never leave me lonely
Say that you love me only
And that you'll always let it be me...'
The song was ending, and you wondered how long the girl and her parents planned to stay. Your heart was racing, your adrenalin pumping, and you knew it was now or never. Yes, just like that Neapolitan standard that had been a huge hit for Elvis.
'It's now or never
Come, hold me tight
Kiss me, my darling
Be mine tonight...'
How appropriate, how timely, you thought, because the time was indeed there, which is why you somehow got ballsy enough to leave your booth and step up to her and say, "Hi, my name is Neil Kirschner, and I just want to say, let it be me."
Your first impulse was to run away, half-expecting the girl to laugh in your face, say something cruel or both. She did laugh, giggled more like it, but there was nothing mocking in her tone. She seemed genuinely amused--in a good way--and it gave your heretofore lack of confidence a much-needed shot in the arm. "Nice meeting you Neil Kirschner," she said. "I'm Amy Coren and this is my dad and stepmom."
Her dad wore off-white chinos and a white sport coat with a pink carnation, just like the song. Her stepmom, in keeping with their nineteen-fifties-sixties attire theme, wore a poodle skirt. You thought they both looked silly in that getup, including the black frame glasses and the fedora her dad wore, but you weren't about to say that.
"Howdy, Neil," he said, looking you up and down like you needed to pass some sort of inspection in your jeans and green football jersey with the number 9 in white. But what the hell, he seemed friendly enough, as well as amused at your attempt to connect with his daughter.
You looked back at Eric who gave you a thumb's up, and then, when you returned to Amy, she said, "So Neil, what do you mean by let it be you?"
You shrugged, not sure what to say, so you said the first thing that popped into your head: "Just like the song says, let it be me."
"Let it be you...what?" Amy asked, hands on hips, drawing a grin that told you she knew what you meant but wanted to hear it from you.
You felt inhibited in front of her parents, yet even so, you said, "Let it be me to say I think you're exceptionally cute. And I like your outfit, too." You saw her blue eyes flutter and her full mouth break into a smile, and it warmed your soul.
You almost shivered when she said, "Well, that's very nice of you to say, Neil," and then placed a hand on your shoulder.
She glanced at her parents who nodded their approval. "I'm Roy," the man said, and then stuck his hand out. "And I'm Jill," the woman said and shook your hand also. Not a bad looking gal, although you thought she'd look better with her blond hair worn down instead of up in that retro French twist.
"Oh, I love this song," Jill said, when she heard Barbara Lewis' "Hello Stranger."
'Hello stranger
it seems so good to see you back again
How long has it been?
it seems like a mighty long time...'
And then Amy did something you didn't expect--asked her parents if it was okay if you and her could take one of the vacant booths so "we can get better acquainted."
"Sure, just don't do anything we wouldn't do," Jill joked.
Eric said he didn't mind either. "Have fun and good luck," he said. "I'm headed out." Good thing he already had a girlfriend or he might have been jealous. Good thing also that you two had taken separate cars to get here.
You could scarcely believe this, sharing a booth with the 'exceptionally cute' Amy Coren whom you had just met--one of the precious few surreal experiences you had had in your young life. Her pretty face glowed beneath that fake Tiffany, bringing out her prominent cheek bones and her zit-free skin. Such a cute nose, too, and the few freckles on it made her look even cuter. You sat there, admiring her beauty and high on the notion that she apparently thought highly of you also. Well, highly enough to break from her parents to give you her undivided attention. In the span of less than five minutes, you learned that she was nineteen, in her sophomore year of college and didn't have a steady boyfriend. Such a personal thing to reveal to someone she had just met, you thought. You returned the "favor," telling her that you "weren't attached" either, and when she asked what you did, you told her about your internship at a local newspaper and your ambition to break into sports writing. Then, when you told her about your amateur swimming "career," her eyes lit up. She said, "Really? Well, I competed in gymnastics in high school and just made my college team. Also, I'm majoring in journalism," she added, with an excited twinkle in her eye.
You felt you hit the jackpot. An athletic girl with beauty and brains and, like you, plans to pursue a writing career. You could barely contain your enthusiasm. The adage that if something seems too good to be true, it probably is, never entered your mind. You and this girl were on a roll, and you were beginning to feel like you'd keep rolling. The conversation continued to flow like a stream after a spring rain, and you ordered another iced tea for the both of you. You felt so into her that you wanted to lean across the table for a kiss. You wanted to...but you hesitated, fearing that she'd think it was going too far too soon. But then you thought, 'what the hell, there's nothing to lose,' and you made your move. And when she met you halfway, you felt on the edge of Paradise. It was short but oh so sweet. There would be more, you were sure of that.