Original Cindy stopped over to pick up Mom for work the next morning with a dress. She handed the dress to me, which was in a black bag, and said that I could wear it for my date with James. When I asked her how she knew, she just gave one of her eye-rolls and said, "Original Cindy gots 'er ways."

I asked no more.

So, Mom and Original Cindy headed off to work, leaving Dad and I alone. I called in sick to work with a case of the shakes and chills, which wasn't a complete lie because I was rather cold and saying that I had had the shakes wasn't exactly an overstatement either.

Dad made himself comfortable at the kitchen table, eating something that I could distinguish between plant or animal matter. But, he ate quietly nonetheless, staring out the windows while he chewed in an almost methodical manner.

I, meanwhile, was sitting on the couch, opening the dress that Original Cindy had let me borrow. Still wearing my pajamas, I was tired and could feel the onset of a terrible headache, but I wasn't about to wait in suspense until later that night.

Since the zipper on the bag became stuck, I was forced to resort to pulling the dress out of the top hanger hole, which ended up wrinkling the dress more than needed. Eventually, after much pulling, I managed to get the entire dress out.

It was exactly the opposite of the red romantic dress I had worn the previous night. The dress I held in my hands couldn't easily be described in words. The best thought I had for it was "fiery".

A deep shading mix of orange and red, it looked exactly like flames itself. The hem was purposely asymmetrical, as it started on the left above my thigh and swooped down to the middle of my calf on the right. On the bottom of it, tiny red beads swayed as I turned the dress over to examine it closer. The back plunged down considerably low so that the V-cut came down to the middle of my back, and the front was fortunately just a usual bowl neckline. Upon closer inspection, I discovered the entire dress was covered in tiny golden glitter sparkles.

As I was looking at the dress and checking for any stains of the sort, Dad plodded into the living room and leaned against the wall, eating something out of a bowl. "That's the dress you're going to wear?" he asked, arching an eyebrow.
"Perhaps."

"Rather risqué, isn't it?"

"You worried about James?" I asked him, not backing down. If I wanted to wear the dress, I was going to wear the dress. No amount of yelling from Dad would stop me.

"Not him personally, but what could happen if you two decided to rent a room…"

"We're not going to sleep together, if that's what you mean," I told Dad. "Besides, it's just dinner."

"Yeah, but dinner doesn't always have to end at the restaurant; there could be dessert waiting someplace else."

"If you're trying to talk sex-ed with me now, Dad, it's kinda late. Mom's already filled me in."

"I know that. It's just that I want to make sure that you know how me and Max feel about it."

"I know, I know," I groaned, rolling my eyes. "'If I ever become pregnant, the child will be immediately aborted. No questions will be asked, nor will there be any chances of adoption.' I know it all; you've only reminded me every single time I've started dating."

"I just don't want you to have something like…like…"

"Like me?" I asked. "You can say it, Dad. I'm not offended. You don't want me to get pregnant and end up having another genetically screwed up mistake. Plus," I said to him as I rose to my feet, "you don't want to become a grandpa."

"No, I don't."

"That's what I thought. So, if you'll excuse me, I'm going to go get a shower, shave and then catch up on all of my missed sleep because I have a date tonight."

"You do that, then."

"I will," I responded as I laid the dress over the arm of the couch. Then, grabbing my bathrobe off the floor, I walked over to the bathroom. "Look, Dad," I told him as I rested my hand on the doorknob, "you and I both know that another thing like me would be the start of World War Three."

"So?"

"So, I want to be the one who starts World War Three, not my kid. Besides," I said with a wry grin. "I got you and Mom to teach me all the cool fighting moves. I couldn't teach my kid that."

He rolled his eyes. "That was a long time ago."

"Yeah? And I bet you haven't forgotten one bit."

After a long, hot shower and a shaving experience that clogged up the razor, it was time to start getting ready for that night.

My hair was up in tight curlers, and Dad gave me a look between confusion and shock as I sat down to grab some quick snack since I had not eaten since breakfast. He said nothing personally to me, but mumbled something about "what the world was coming to" as he turned and went out to the living room.

Since we had no bread in the house, I resorted to eating jam straight out of the jar. In my opinion, it was just like eating juice-but with chunky fruit to accompany it. Either way it was a sweet fruit taste.

I walked out to the living room, following Dad. He lay, sprawled on the couch, with his arms hanging sloppily off the sides as he gazed at the streets below. Hearing me approaching, he looked up and stared curiously at me with my hair curlers and dressed in pajamas. Then, seeing that I was eating something, he asked, "What in the world are you eating now?"

"Jam," I replied, moving my fingers away from the label so that he could see it.

"Jam?" he echoed, then groaned and looked back out the window.

"What?" I asked. "Can't a person eat jam straight out of the jar now?"

"It's not that…it's just that…I don't want history repeat itself."

"It's just jam!"

"Whatever," he muttered and lapsed back into his mode of silence.

I shrugged and went back out to the kitchen to put the jam away. "Hey, whatever, yourself."

Once my hair was dry, I began to get dressed in my outfit. Unfortunately, the dress was shorter than I would have liked, but it would work nonetheless. I debated for a long time between Mom's black shoes that she let me borrow or my own red shoes. Both matched the dress, but I wasn't sure which ones I should wear. Then, finally exasperated with having to choose, I stuck my head out the bathroom, where I was getting dressed, and asked Dad, "Which shoes do you like better?"

"What? Oh." I held out the shoes so he could clearly see them. "Let me see your dress."

"No, 'cause you'll tell me to change it."

"Well then, how do I know what shoes match?"

Carefully, I inched one leg out-the one with the longer side of the dress-and pointed. "See? Now which ones do you like better?"

He shrugged. "'Lanzie, I don't have any style of fashion for you; you're better at it then I am."

"Argh!" I cried in frustration and closed the door behind me.

"In case you're interested though," he continued from behind the door, "I'm voting for the red ones."

I was going to choose the red pair anyhow, I thought silently to myself and slid the high heeled sandals on. Adjusting the straps on the dress, I smiled to myself in the mirror, remembering Max's comment from the camping trip: "If James don't drop ova, he'd hafta be gay." Then, I laughed out loud and didn't care if Dad heard me or not.

Finally, after nearly an hour of combing and brushing and spritzing and readjusting, I was ready to go. My hair fell around my shoulders in tight curls with a red headband to accent it. I had borrowed some of Mom's makeup because I tended not to wear makeup that much. Taking a deep breath, I grabbed my purse and exited the bathroom.

By this time, Dad was outside, examining Mom's motorcycle. Mine still sat next to it, waiting impatiently for me to come. I checked myself in the bathroom mirror one last time and then headed outside to grab my bike to go and see James.

Dad didn't seem to notice me until I sat down on my bike and began to turn out of the back alley. "That's your dress?" he asked in stark disbelief.

"You like it?"

"I'm not going to say anything."

"Yeah, but you're thinking that I'm going to get knocked up by James, and you'll end up becoming a grandpa at forty because your daughter is wearing a somewhat provocative dress."

"I hate your mind-reading crap," he muttered.

"That makes me love it all the more."

"Yeah, well, have a good time and don't do anything that I wouldn't do."

"I should be back no later than one-ok? Will you tell Mom that for me?"
"Sure."

"Thanks, Dad!" I called as I zoomed off on my motorcycle wearing my nice dress.

James' apartment complex was on the other side of town and much closer to the water than mine was. He had insisted that he would drive us out to dinner when I had called him earlier that morning. I, though, told him not to worry about plans because I was going to be the one taking care of the itinerary this time. Personally, I think he was a little worried as to what I had planned.

After calling him that morning, I had realized that I had forgotten a gift for our anniversary. I searched the city high and low, looking for one until I found something that deemed appropriate. Now, as I careened through the streets with my dress fluttering in the wind, I could only hope James would like it.

His apartment complex wasn't nearly as nice as Logan's, but then, I suppose nobody's was. James was waiting in the lobby when I pulled up on my black bike. As he left the building, he looked both shocked and delighted to see me.

"I can't believe you drove your motorcycle here with your dress on," he told me as I offered him the helmet.

"Extension to the soul, James. That's all there is to it."

He was wearing a pair of black slacks and a satin red shirt. And even though he had left the shirt untucked, he still looked good. I smiled slightly to myself, savoring in his looks.

"You ready?" I asked him, turning back to face him.

"I guess so."
"Then, let's go."

I gunned the engine, causing James to hang on tighter to my waist. After all, the bike was only built for one person and there was hardly any room for another. Therefore, any other people who rode with me had to hang onto me to avoid falling off.

The streets were nearly silent in the darkness. There were a couple cars here and there, along with the usual bums gathered by the road. I tried to tell myself that if I didn't see them, then I wouldn't be obliged to helping them. It made me feel so utterly bad to see people suffering like that.

Finally, we arrived at the waterfront, and I let the engine idle for a moment before cutting it completely.

"The water?" James asked.

"Just c'mere," I told him and grabbed his hand in mine as I headed over to the water. There, waiting as expected was a canoe. I had specifically called around town to borrow somebody's. Then, with direct orders, I told them to leave it in the water at seven o'clock. Checking my watch, I nodded satisfactorily. It was 6:59.

"It's a canoe," James stated.

"Very good. Now, let's go."

"You can't be serious."
"James, I am very serious."

He entered hesitantly, then I did, and we used the paddles to push off of the shore. We rowed evenly, in long smooth strides that left little ripples upon the black glass of water. Finally, in the middle of the water, we pulled our paddles in and sat, listening to the sound of the lapping water.

"I'm sorry for what happened the other night," I apologized after a moment of stark silence.

"I just hope you're all right."

"Yeah, I'm fine. It's just that…I ruined our date."

"Alanza, the date wasn't ruined."

"How so?"
He paused for a moment, thinking, then smiled wryly. "We didn't get charged?"

Hitting him playfully in the canoe, I laughed. "Good excuse."

"It's the best I had."

"So," I said to him as I dug around in my purse for his present, "I've got something for you."
"Me too."

I pulled out the present, wrapped in paper, and handed it to him, wringing my hands nervously. I really hoped that he liked it, otherwise I would feel like an absolute idiot. Like a child at Christmas, he tore off the wrapping paper and stared for a moment at the CD he held in his hands.

"It has all the songs we've listened to together. See?" I asked, pointing to the title of one. "This is the first song we danced to."
He grinned broadly and leaned over in the canoe to give me a warm hug. "It's perfect," he replied. "Now, I can play it in my car on the way to work."
"It's even has all of Max's crazy songs that we were forced to listen to at the camp."

James laughed louder than necessary. "Crazy songs is right." Then, he paused and reached into his back pants' pocket. "Here, this is for you." He handed me a little black box, which I accepted carefully.

I opened it with the utmost tenderness. Then, in the dying sunlight, I saw what he had given me. "James!" I cried in happiness.

It was a golden necklace with a tiny ruby heart at the end of the chain. "It's beautiful," I whispered.

"No," he told me as he put it on, "you're beautiful."

After spending a long time out in the canoe, we finally pushed ourselves ashore and started to walk back to the motorcycle to head home. Already the moon was high in the sky and the shadows were endless along the broken buildings.

Suddenly, James froze beside me. He still had his balmy hand in mine, but gently pushed me behind him. "James? What is it?" I whispered.

"We've got trouble," was all he said, and I then saw the three, drunken street thugs with their long knives and short-handled pistols. All three of them saw a fine-dressed couple that would prove to be good money-dead or alive.