Mid morning Friday, his cell rang. Chris recognized Melanie's caller ID. She was far and away his closest confidant and best friend - and long-ago former lover. They lived now on opposite sides of town, kept in touch pretty well, mostly by email and about six-monthly dinners. He hadn't talked with her for several weeks, so he answered – a rare thing for him, interrupting his thoughts for a call.
She launched at once. "Chris, I have a problem, a family thing, and was wondering if I could impose on you..."
He reassured her – "Sure, just ask!"
"Well, I'm up here at the mountain cabin, and you know the long step stairs in back, I was half-way up them with a sack of groceries and I got attacked, blindsided, by a goddamned RAVEN! She hit me in the head so hard, from the rear, that I lost my balance and fell down the steps. And broke my damned wrist..."
She hurried on. "I also walloped my head when I hit the ground, and I have a classic medium-strength concussion. One pupil is pretty dilated, it's really hard to focus. So they insist on keeping me here at Podunk hospital at least overnight for observation. More likely they'll keep me two or three days. Which is undoubtedly –damn it all!- for the best – I don't need to drive 210 miles, half of it on crappy roads, while worrying and unsure of my abilities. They'll let me out when they get a good clean x-ray. I won't know it's happening until it happens, and then I'll give you a call before starting home. Chances are, they'll let me go first thing in the morning, and I'll get home in the PM... but of which DAY I can't predict."
"My head will heal just fine – it's pretty nearly solid bone, you know. Meanwhile, here's my REAL problem... Juliet's very first real ballet performance is tomorrow – a matinee. Then evenings on Saturday and Sunday. She's pretty good, you know. She's one of the four cygnets in Swan Lake, at the University's theater. The Dance Department invited her and three others to participate – it's a full-blown professional production. My kid's first performance EVER, and I'm going to miss it! Damn! I'll most likely make it to the performance on Saturday evening – and if not, then Sunday. But those aren't the same at all, emotionally... they would be 'not first time'."
Chris understood, mentally raced through his plans and schedule.
Melanie continued. "Your last email said you were planning on doing woodwork for a couple of weekends. Still planning that?"
He was.
"Could you go to the ballet in my place? The '
in loco parentis
' thing? If you haven't anything else planned for tonight? It'd mean you have to pick her up at school at 1230 – that's what we agreed on, I was supposed to be driving home right now! You'll have to explain all this to her, too – she's pretty level-headed, but think about how you'll tell her! You'll have to pick her up, come home to get her stuff, drop her off about 1300 at the theater, then bring her home afterwards. She can take care of herself just fine at home alone overnight, that's never a problem. The performance starts at three, and ends a little past five. And – if it wouldn't be too much on top of everything, could you videotape her scene? Use our good camera - she knows where it is."
Chris was delighted with the prospect. He liked ballet – for the gorgeous, ultra-athletic bodies as much as anything. Juliet was also a good, close friend – their age difference seemed non-existent most of the time. Chris had known Mom since way "pre-Juliet" – in fact, since before the ultimately unfortunate marriage when Mom was just 20. Juliet was an accidental pregnancy, retained out of desire to be a mommy, and a hope that a child might solidify the marriage.
It hadn't worked.
Due to proximity and availability, Chris and Melanie had been lovers for a couple of years beginning right after Juliet's birth, but the affair had stayed secret and hadn't added to the marital woes. The Kid, as her Daddy called her, was ferociously intelligent... she had been skipped a couple of early grades and was now well into the local Junior College. Chris felt it would have done both her and the school system a service to just hop her from sixth grade straight to college. Everyone who knew The Kid said she was a very serious example of "precocious, going on thirty-something".
She was slender, attractive, had just reached five feet and perhaps 92 pounds: like her mother, Juliet's puberty had arrived disturbingly late, but she was developing rapidly now, sporting hips and very early boobs... still AA or AAA. Hence she still qualified for any choreographer obsessed with tiny, boyish-chested dancers – the classical Balanchine shape - "Yes, she's certainly female, but almost a boy in spite of it". But Juliet would almost certainly, and quite soon, sport her Mom's 32-C bosom. And she was hugely sexually attractive to Chris – had been so for many years - something he'd been exquisitely careful not to reveal.
Chris and Melanie went through the needed instructions. Just before hanging up, and after copious thanks from Melanie, he had a thought and said "Do you suppose I should take her out to dinner afterwards, to celebrate? What would you have done?"
Mom replied that that was a nice idea, but un-necessary. "Unless of course he WANTED to start dating women her age! In which case, go right ahead, but just remember that The Kid has expensive tastes."
He parked beside the school's six-foot stone mascot at exactly 1230. Seconds later Juliet emerged complete with backpack, her long legs dangling from short-shorts, standard early-summer wear nowadays. She scanned the area, spotted him at once, trotted over. She was fast. "Hi! How come you're here? Where's Mom – what happened?"
He motioned her into the car, explained the situation.
She looked crestfallen, borrowed his cell, got Mom online, and the women had it all sorted out by the time they arrived at Juliet's. She invited him in, trotted upstairs in a rush, returned with the camera and her performance-baggage.
Enroute to the car, he broached his idea of a post-performance dinner. "To celebrate." She eyed him oddly (there were disconcerting moments like this when everyone wondered what sort of mental computations she was up to behind those pretty eyes), then grinned and said "So, Chris – will this be a real DATE-date, or did Mom put you up to it?"
Chris assured her that it would be just that – and it was entirely his own idea, too.
She looked pleased but skeptical. "Why would you want to go on a DATE with me?"
He replied perfectly honestly, "I know you well, have known you since before you were born. I like you a great deal, you're intelligent and educated and have lots of ideas of your own, and you're pretty and fun and you're a very good conversationalist. Is that enough reasons? You fishing for compliments? We're going to the Angus. If you accept."
