It was impertinent. It was insensitive. It was cruel.
I had invited the boy who mows our lawn in for a cold drink. Michael was a shy boy, but a hard worker. He had been washing our cars and mowing our lawn for some time. He was now a senior in high school, on the cusp of manhood. He had grown tall with a nice physique. Handsome and well-mannered, he was a fine young man. He was explaining to me how he had asked a girl to the senior prom and she turned him down with an insult.
"She said, 'I would love to go, but not with you,'" Michael recounted.
"That little bitch. She could have declined politely without being so rude," I fumed.
My maternal instinct took over. "Let me check around and find a girl for you."
My husband traveled to Asia a lot, negotiating with various companies about forming joint ventures to develop and manufacture batteries for electric vehicles. He'd be gone for a week, sometimes two. That left me plenty of spare time to play matchmaker.
While he was gone I played mah-jongg with a group of women. Certainly one of those busybodies knew of an available girl. I soon had a lead.
"My granddaughter is such a pretty girl. And so smart! She's really amazing. All she wants to do is study and play the piano. She has no interest in boys. My daughter is starting to worry about her."
"How old is your granddaughter, Mrs. Symington?" I asked.
"Eighteen. Look how pretty." Mrs. Symington brandished her phone and scrolled through endless pictures of her granddaughter.
In this case grandma was right; the girl had a pretty face framed by long blond hair. Blue eyes and high cheekbones accentuated her infectious smile. She looked reserved but in her eyes I detected the hint of a free spirit.
"She's a pretty girl, Mrs. Symington. What's your granddaughters name?"
"Talia. She's such a good girl."
"I know a nice eighteen year old boy looking for a prom date. The prom is next Saturday."
"Please let's introduce them," Mrs. Symington urged.
We arranged a meeting at a coffee shop.
~~~
I accompanied Michael; grandma was with Talia. Talia was even prettier than her photos suggested. A tall girl with long legs, Talia had presence. People turned and noticed. Mrs. Symington and I took a separate table and let the kids have their space.
Michael and Talia seemed to hit it off and she accepted his invitation to the prom, much to grandma's delight. The time came to leave, and Michael and I got in the car.
"Michael, listen to me. Talia is a catch. A girl as pretty as Talia won't last long. Don't make her wait; start calling her today. Call her everyday and tell her you're looking forward to Saturday."
I continued. "At the prom, first and foremost, no alcohol. Talia won't think getting drunk is cool. Second, stay by her side the whole time. No horsing around with the guys. It's all about Talia."
"I don't drink, Mrs. Hailey. And I'll stay with Talia."
I went on. "Mark my words. If that little bitch who turned you down is there, she's going to approach you. When a girl rejects a guy and later sees him with another girl, she then desires him. Why? Cattiness, jealousy. It's a woman thing."
"What should I do if she does approach us?"
"Be cordial, but not friendly. Don't introduce Talia unless the bitch asks who she is, and don't reveal your relationship status with Talia; it's none of her business. Don't inquire about her date. You don't give a damn about him. Be charming, then politely get away from her, and stay away. You don't want Talia thinking you have a thing for that girl."
"That's right," Michael said slowly as the logic settled in.
"Make sure you get some slow dances with Talia. She'll like that. But be respectful. And to the extent possible, slow dance in front of or near that bitch, but keep your back toward her. That gives her ample opportunity to stare, and Talia will be facing her. Talia will notice her competition, which is good for you, but give that bitch no play. None."
"I won't, Mrs. Hailey."
"Now let's get you a tuxedo."
~~~
Michael reported back to me the day after the prom. He was exuberant, talking a mile a minute.
"Slow down. Start at the beginning."
"Everything you said was right, Mrs. Hailey. And I did everything you said. I kept Talia at my side the whole night. All the guys ogled her. And sure enough, Tiffany, that bitch as you refer to her, approached us, eyeing Talia up and down. She acted cutesy, but I brushed her off. We slow danced near her and her wimpy date. Talia and I shared a kiss as we did. She noticed. Talia noticed the attention we were getting from her, too. 'That girl likes you,' she said."
"What was your reply?"
"I said, 'She's not my type. You're my type, Talia.'"
"Perfect! Good answer." We were both gloating.
"Are you going to see Talia again?"
"Yes. Talia has a piano recital this coming Sunday and she asked me to attend."
"What kind of music will she perform?"
"A sonata? I think that's what she said. By someone named Show something."
"Chopin. Probably Chopin's Sonata Number Two. It's the one most frequently performed for audiences." Michael's face was blank.
"Here's what you do. First, go to the public library and get a recording of Chopin sonatas. Listen to them all week," I said as I took one hundred dollars from my purse.
"Second, take this money. It's a prepayment for the car and the lawn. Buy Talia the biggest and most beautiful bouquet of flowers you can with this. After her performance, present it to her."
"I didn't think of that," Michael replied in wonderment.
Of course he didn't; he's a teenage guy.
"And dress up for Talia. A shirt and tie, a jacket, and shoes. Talia may want to kiss you when you give her the flowers, so make sure you're shaved smooth. She may also be moved to tears, so carry two handkerchiefs with you. The one in your back pocket is for you; the one in your breast pocket is for her. If she gets emotional, tell her to open wide, then hold her and gently dab her eyes."
"What would I do without you, Mrs. Hailey?"
Probably flounder.
~~~
The recital was a raving success. Weeks passed and love blossomed like the Spring flowers. One day after Michael mowed our lawn I invited him in for a soda. He was bathed in sweat and was covered with dust and blades of grass.
"Michael, go take a shower. Hand those clothes out to me and I'll put them in the washing machine. I won't let you go home like that."
He handed his clothes out from behind the bathroom door and I passed him one of my husband's bath robes.
After his shower, Michael emerged and we sat on the sofa sipping soda while the dryer spun.
"So you and Talia have been dating for more than a month. How is it going?"
"Good."
"She's a pretty girl. Does she like kissing?"
"Yeah, she does." He was being evasive.
I ventured further. "Have you done anything more than kissing?" I'm the one who set them up; I felt I had a right to ask.
His face blushed. "Not really."
"She doesn't want to?"
"I haven't tried."
