"Good grief, mom and dad, how do you expect a fella to get to know anyone if he's constantly moving from town to town?" I was bored to pieces in the back of the car, and mom and dad's cheery demeanor was really ticking me off.
"Pipe down, Brendan, will ya? This is the last time we're moving. It's such a swell neighborhood!"
Swell? Sure. That's what mom said the last time me moved. That was the third time.
Dad cleared his throat in that loud, obnoxious manner that I hated. He pulled up in front of some white picket fenced, too-good-to-be-true, straight out of "I Love Lucy" shack. Whoopie.
"Here we are!" He shut off the engine and opened the door, then walked around to let mom out. She re-tied the sleeves of her cardigan, artfully placed on her shoulders. She swore she was Marilyn Monroe sometimes.
I slid out of the Cadillac--my dad's most prized possession--and kicked the door shut with my heel of Converse sneaker. Dad preferred I wear dressy penny loafers like him. Then again, dad preferred a lot of crap I didn't care too much for.
The movers had pulled up a few seconds after mom and dad entered the fully furnished house. From inside, I could hear mom going on about the gorgeous pool in the backyard, already filled with sparkling water. Whatever. Give a fella like me a good vinyl record of Buddy Holly, Frankie Limon, or Elvis Presley, and I'm good. Pool not required.
Dad beckoned me inside. I reluctantly followed. I had to admit, the house was pretty boss, but I just didn't care. The only thing I wanted to do was hurry up, get through these two months of my life, go on to college, and live life away from this drag of an existence.
Mom was clamoring over how much space was in the living room, perfect for viewing Lucy on the weekends. Dad told her she needed to be worried about how much space was on the counter for the coffee machine and toaster. Typical.
I decided to run away from all the fun and do a little exploring. I walked around the backyard and looked both ways. Two identical houses. How predictable.
Since there was nothing else to do, I just leaned on the white picket fence and pondered my own existence. I felt like Holden Caulfield from "Catcher in the Rye." Totally useless, wayward, and unsure of everything. Maybe if I just let the sun burn my neck, it'd motivate me to get up and do something else, but until then, I'd just be a lazy son of a gun.
Mother nature eventually gave me the sign and I looked up. When I did, I saw something completely out of the ordinary.
She was wearing a bikini, another thing out of the ordinary, since all the girls were expected to cover up everything. She also had on cat eye sunglasses, a towel in her arms. She set it down on a lawn chair and looked around. After that, she took off her glasses and set them on the towel. In a sexy, seductive move, she stretched and then dipped her foot into the pool, laughing at how cold the water was.
I knew one thing. She was a babe. I was just going to guess that she was the only black girl in the neighborhood. I wanted to talk to her, but didn't know if she would be scared of me or think I was part of the Klan or something. At least my parents had finally picked a swell spot for us to move into.
When I turned around, she was gone. Damn. I sulked back into the house only to see my parents outside, greeting the family right next to us. They looked like nice people, the mother a lot prettier than my own mom. However, my parents didn't look too inviting.
I had to stop the awkwardness as the movers began ambling everywhere with stuff. I rolled up the sleeves of my cardigan and stepped outside.
"Hi." I extended a hand. "My name is Brendan Thomas."
The mom smiled. Perfect white teeth. "So nice to meet you, Brendan. My name's Veronica." She turned to her left. "This is my husband, Mr. Allan Wayworth, and my daught--" She sighed. "Tiffany! Tiffany, get over here so you can meet the new neighbors!"
I looked over to where Tiffany was. She yelled out, "But mom, I'm practically naked!"
I swear, I flipped at the thought of seeing her naked.
"Just wrap a towel around you!" Mrs. Wayworth chuckled to herself and then said to my parents, "She was about to take a dip in the pool."
Nothing. My parents were so dry. Geez, they weren't aliens, they were just black people.
When Tiffany showed up, my jaw dropped.
She managed to put on shorts. Tiny shorts. Very tiny shorts. Shorts that made my heart race. She'd thrown on some cardigan over her bikini, and looked absolutely delicious. Tiffany had beautiful brown eyes, skin the color of amber, and a body that would make Sophia Loren jealous.
Now if only I could get out the words.
"H..Hi. My name...My name is Brendan." I adjusted my glasses--something I always do when I'm nervous--and held out my hand, waiting for hers to touch mine.
"Hi." She smiled and grabbed my hand. "Tiffany. Nice to meet you." I held her hand for just a second too long, and she must have noticed it, because she kind of forcefully ripped it out of mine. "Sorry." Then, I willed myself not to blush.
"New neighbors, eh?" Veronica said, noting the movers. Mom nodded. "You have excellent powers of perception."
Allan caught wind of my mom's little chide remark and cleared his throat. "So what made you folks pick this neighborhood?" He straightened his tie and folded his arms.
"Great location," My dad answered, uninterested. "And because of the people who live here."
They were ruining my chances of talking to Tiffany again by being racist! I hated my parents! I was so frosted, I didn't know what to do.
I had to save the way the conversation was going.
"Mr. and Mrs. Wayworth, it'd be swell to have you guys over for dinner sometime. My mom makes a mean pot roast." I smiled and then looked at Tiffany. "You're invited too, of course." Nervously, I ran a hand through my hair. She didn't smile at first, but I saw the corners of her mouth twitch.
"Sounds great." Mrs. Wayworth grabbed her husband's arm and squeezed it. "Honey, let's go inside now. Service starts in an hour. Can't be late. Come on, Tiffany." They all left. My parents scared them off.
As soon as they were out of earshot, my mom whispered, "Filthy niggers. What are they doing in this nice neighborhood, anyway?"
I watched Tiffany walk away and hoped she would turn around, but she didn't. Well, at least she touched me. Yes, it was just a handshake, but it was enough for me.
That night, I spent most of the time listening to my parents lecture me about the dangers of 'cavorting with trash,' in reference to the Wayworths. I didn't listen. I didn't even bother to say anything, because there was no convincing my uptight mom and dad about anything.
"And stay away from that little slut Tiffany." Mom said, sitting at her vanity, robe splayed behind her. She set down her brush roughly. "She's no good for you. Did you see those shorts she had on? Definitely not marriage material."
Dad lit one of his stupid Cuban cigars and put in, "One day son, I'll let you take the car into town so you can meet a nice little dolly. You know, you're at the age when you should be thinking about settling down."
I was only nineteen.
I'd endured enough. I left and headed for the backyard when I knew my parents would be asleep. They're such fuddy-duddies, they slept at around eight, which gave me much freedom. Since I was bored, I put on my trunks and went for a late night dip. It wasn't until I came up for air that I noticed Tiffany was swimming in her pool, too.
Bobbing around in the water, I just wanted to get up and walk over to her place. Do something. Hell, a fella got tired of only talking to his parents. My old friends were back in Wisconsin, and with no phone yet, I couldn't even talk to them. I needed to be social, and if she was the only one around, why not? Didn't hurt that she was beautiful.
I worked up enough guts to haul ass over to her backyard before she got up and dried off. A million emotions ran through me as I knocked on the yard gate. She looked up and saw that it was me. At first, I thought she was going to ignore me, but then she opened up the gate.
