I had forgotten about Stanley and the first date crisis in all the turmoil of the past few days until Karen and I were shopping for ingredients to make a special pork recipe. I saw her wave to a boy about her age. He was shopping with an older woman.
"That was Stanley," Karen said in a matter-of-fact tone.
"I'm sorry your date didn't work out."
"It's probably for the best."
"Why do you say that? Don't you like him anymore?"
"No, that's not it. I didn't like him before; I didn't even know him when he asked me to go to the movies. We would have had a rotten time not knowing what to say to each other. Now we talk sometimes around school. We kind of like each other now. Besides, you can't even talk in movies and I've seen all that G rated stuff anyway. I'd rather go to real movies. Maybe I'll date when I can go to see the good ones."
I took another look at Stanley as he was leaving the store. He bore no visible tattoos, piercings, nor did her wear his pants around his ankles with his ass sticking out. He looked like a regular boy. God, he was even carrying his mother's groceries! Even Daddy North would have trouble finding faults with the young man.
Karen was jumping into her roll of Betty Parris in the school play The Crucible with both feet and her boots on. Betty was the first child supposedly possessed. While her character has few spoken lines, the part requires moaning and a lot of stage movement. She remains on stage the entire first act and returns in act three as one of the accusers. Paul and I willingly agreed to help her study her lines by reading other parts with her. Paul acted as Reverend Parris, Betty's widowed father who had no talent with children, leaving their upbringing to servants. The irony wasn't lost on me.
Mrs. Peck was so thrilled with Karen's stage debut she peddled tickets to the high school production in the toy store to every potential customer.
The following week was a maze of activity. When Wednesday rolled around, I hoped Dr. Mason had buried the enema business once and for all. I still remained nervous about what his new line of questioning would be. Should I bring my own tissues? The night before my appointment my dreams, long absent, reappeared with a vengeance. My mother was there, frail to the bone, and I continued to chat with army guys while she pleaded with me to help her. My father appeared and told me firmly to go to the pantry. I awoke in a sweat and couldn't sleep the rest of the night.