Thank you again to blackrandl1958 for editing and encouragement.
"Okay, babe, I guess it's time for me to go. I'll catch you again next week if the weather stays good. I love you," I said.
It was truly a beautiful day: 75 degrees, sunny, very slight southern breeze. I packed up our little picnic back into the basket and put it into the trunk of my car, along with my lawn chair. I felt peaceful, serene, and yes, a little sad. Visiting with Cat always did that for me.
I'd been in love with her since we were 12 years old, and I guess I'll be in love with her until the day I die.
My then-best friend Robert Bruce and I were playing catch in my front yard the first time I saw Cat. She and her family were moving into the house next door that had been for sale. It was the middle of the summer before second grade. I was seven.
Robert and I were casually glancing over at the moving men and the family that was moving in to the house that had formerly belonged to the Miller family when I spotted her. She was skinny, had long blonde braids and a lot of freckles. It was only later that I found out she also had azure eyes.
We watched off and on and threw the ball back and forth for a while before the girl went to her father and started to talk to him, gesturing at Robert and me. I saw her father nod his head, then she ran into her house, emerging seconds later with her own baseball glove and headed for us.
"Can I play, too?" she asked, her smile revealing a bunch of crooked teeth.
She introduced herself as Catherine McVay, Cathy to her friends who were girls, but Cat to her friends who were boys.
I could see Robert scrunching up his nose, but I'll admit to being entranced. I overruled Robert and we played catch three-way. She could hold her own with her glove, and just as important, she didn't throw like a girl. As far as I was concerned, she was in, expanding our little group of friends to four, with Jimmy Arthur being the other.
Although we had more than enough girls in our neighborhood for her to play with, Cat spent most of her time with the boys. She was with us for baseball, kickball, war and Frisbee. I didn't see her spend much time with the girls, especially when they were playing dolls or dress-up.
Little by little, Cat overtook Robert as my best friend. If I could only have one friend go somewhere with my family, Cat was my choice; one friend to spend the night, Cat was my choice.
Cat's family was Catholic, not that it made a difference... until she made her confirmation when she was 12. Confirmation is a pretty big event to religious Catholics, and there's usually a big party afterwards.
Like most of the girls making their confirmation that day, Cat was wearing a white dress, with white tights. Very unusual for her, her hair was down. She had gotten her braces off her teeth two weeks before, and she wore a little bit of makeup. I was lost.
I looked at Cat like I had never seen her before. She was... beautiful. My life would never be the same again.
"What are you staring at, Julian? Close your mouth, you're going to catch flies," she said when she saw me gawking at her. "Don't you dare say a thing about this dress, or I'm going to give you a wallop so hard you won't see straight for a week."
I remember not being able to breath well or think well for the entire party. All of us kids were told to be on our best behavior, but I couldn't have misbehaved that night if my life depended on it. I was a vegetable. My heart was beating wildly. I was sweating. If I had been a 65-year-old man, they probably would have rushed me to the hospital figuring I was having a heart attack.
I waited until the party was just about over before I finally sidled over to Cat, took her by the hand and walked her over to a quiet spot.
"Boy, your hands are really sweaty," Cat said as we walked. "What did you need to tell me that you couldn't tell me in front of everyone else?"
"Y-you... you're beautiful, Cat," I stammered, my heart jackhammering in my chest.
I'm not sure I've ever been hit so hard in my entire life to that point. She popped me right in my mouth, cutting my bottom lip and knocking me to the ground.
"You're a stupid jerkface! Don't ever talk to me again!" she rasped at me as she stomped off.
I just lay there in the grass on my back, wondering if she meant me.
I don't know how long I lay there, but the next thing that made any sense to me was my mother helping me to a sitting position and pressing a napkin to my bloody lip.
"Are you all right, Jule?" she asked, calling me by the nickname that ONLY my family ever dared to use. "What happened? Who hit you?"
"Cat. Cat hit me because I said she was beautiful," I mumbled through the napkin.
"You told her she was beautiful and she hit you?" Mom asked with a giggle.
I nodded, upset that my mother seemed to be laughing because Cat hit me.
"Oh, sonny boy, you made a biiig mistake saying that to Catherine," she said, slowly helping me to my feet. "Tomorrow you probably need to apologize. Let's go home now."
"But Mom, why should I apologize? She is beautiful," I whined as we walked to our house next door.
"Weren't you just wrestling around on the floor with her yesterday playing WWF Superstars or something? Now today you tell her she's beautiful. Does Catherine look like the kind of girl you call beautiful?" she asked.
This was the first of many times in my life that I wouldn't understand the female of the species.
Cat's mom greeted me with a knowing smile when I knocked on the McVays' front door the next day.
"She's in the family room, Julian. Why don't you go into the kitchen and I'll send her in there so you guys can have some privacy," she said.
Cat was grinning like a hyena when she walked into the kitchen. I knew she was pretty proud of herself for the shot with which she hit me. My lip was swollen and was purplish. I was more mumbling than actually talking.
"I'm sorry, Cat. I shouldn't have said what I did," I rasped.
"No, you shouldn't have, but I guess I shouldn't have sucker-punched you," she answered. "My mom said that you were actually being nice. When did you learn that?"
I shrugged. "Must have been something my mom taught me. She was obviously WRONG!"
Well, I won't tell anybody that I gave you that fat lip if you don't tell anybody that you called me beautiful," she said.
"Deal!" I said enthusiastically, sticking my hand out for a shake. "But Cat, you really were beautiful."
"Thanks, I guess," she whispered.
I never again told Cat she was beautiful, at least for the next few years, but I also never looked at her the same way again. She would never again be just Cat... one of the guys.