Hospitals are like airports.
Everywhere you go, whether it's the bathroom, the help desk, or down any hallway, every place is abounding with people. People young and old, rich and poor, black and white, sometimes even speaking different languages. There are people rejoicing, laughing, and whooping with excitement, then there are people grieving, crying, and quiet. There is no end to the stories waiting to be told.
"I'm sorry, I don't know any of his information. I don't even know his LAST NAME," I tried to calmly explain to the receptionist. So many thoughts were racing through my head, and I was distracted by the various beeping noises and voices. My heart was hurting for Sodapop. "He could still be in shock, he must be scared, can't I just go back there with him until his big brother gets here?"
"Naw, missy," the little old lady drawled, squinting at me through her enormous glasses. "Ya better follow the rules, now. When ya marry that boy, ya can take care of him allllll ya want." She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "But I don't see no ring, so there won't be none of that here!"
My mouth dropped open in shock and my face felt like it was being submerged in boiling water. For one, this boy was a BABY. I was a nineteen year old WOMAN! He was the same age as my little brother! AND I would be pretty stinking terrified if I was all by myself in the hospital!
"Ma'am, I JUST MET HIM," I tried to explain to her, but out of the corner of my eye, I saw Darrel rushing in the emergency room doors. "That's his brother now!"
Darrel's eyes scanned the room frantically, his hands raising to his head in frustration. It looked like it had been a long day already; his pants were, instead of a normal blue jean hue, more of a tan. Sweat mixed with dirt stuck to his skin. He was out of breath, telling me that he ran here, stuck with his thoughts and his worries of a hurt little brother and a broken truck. My heart broke as I approached him, and I wondered what kind of life they lived.
My own family had always been well off. We had never been rich, but we always had enough to live, and then some. With my brother Charles, who was Soda's age, my sister Grace at 14, and Louise at 23, sometimes we had to wear hand-me-downs and not go to the movies anytime we wanted, but we weren't spoiled, and I saw what spoiling children did to their adult lives.
Darrel's eyes found me, and he ran over to me, weight being lifted from his back. As soon as he reached me, he passed me and kept walking. "Thank you. Thank you so much…"
"He's in room 102, they wouldn't allow me to go back and see him," I explained, trying to keep up with his long stride.
"I really appreciate this, you've helped us so much today. Thanks for not leaving him there-" Darrel paused and bit his lip. He avoided my eyes. "I'm sorry, I can't remember your name…"
"Caroline," I offered, my heart sinking a little bit. I had hoped that he would possibly remember my name; it's fun when handsome men remember your name, and you remember theirs. He gave me a small smile.
"Caroline. Thank you so much." We stood awkwardly outside of Soda's room. I wasn't sure whether I should just leave, he wasn't sure whether he should walk me out…our combined uncertainty was palpable and it made me want to bolt.
"I hope Soda gets better real fast. Would you tell him I said so?" He nodded and grinned at me. "I...dropped my tacos...probably a HUGE mess…" Think, brain, THINK! "Better go clean it up…" I slowed, hoping that he would rescue me from my excuses.
His eyes, their color of a tranquil sea, smiled at me, along with the sweet, honest one that spread across his slightly burned face. "See ya tomorrow, maybe? If Soda's feeling okay, I'll be at work...and I love those tacos!"
"Darry?" Soda's weak voice called through the door.
Darrel smiled. "Be right there, buddy. I'll see ya tomorrow, Caroline."
My face burnt too, with surprise. "Oh...yeah! I'll be there! Bye" I waved and stumbled toward the exit, my blush spreading down my neck and seemingly to the tips of my toes. I didn't even glance behind me, and I knew that I would see a perplexed face. When I get embarrassed or taken off guard, I have this fight or flight predicament happen, and I just...take off.
I don't know what it was about him, in those early days. He was just so kind, and his words were few. The other construction workers would push, jeer, and make nasty jokes as they waited in line for their food. He stood silently and patiently. He always thanked me, and occasionally, gave me a little extra before he left, because he claimed they were just so delicious. We never got into very deep talk; I was always interested, but uncertain of where he stood on the matter, so I never initiated it. I thought, if he REALLY wanted to talk to me, he'd ask me out on a date or something.
Well, that didn't happen. At least, not then.
If July were a person, it would be a strong, tanned, blond surfer, with snappy brown eyes and a huge grin. July would lounge gracefully in a lawn chair with a tall glass of sweet iced tea, in no hurry, floating through life. July would have a big, brassy voice and a belly laugh. June would be much softer and gentler than its brother, and would be sorely missed once its brother arrived.
Oh, July. The sweltering, humid temperatures and the scorching sun overhead made even my tacos sweat and lose their crunchiness to a soft, soggy exterior. I tried covering them, making them earlier, anything I could, but nothing helped.
Regardless of the new texture, people continued to buy them, day after day. They must have not noticed. The construction workers were probably too hot and tired. In addition to my lemonade, I started bringing ice water.
Darrel trudged up to my table after a straight week of mind-numbing weather. He wiped his brow tiredly. Beads of sweat cascaded down his face, his eyes squinted in the sunlight, and his body slumped with exhaustion and pain that I knew his joints must have been feeling, because all the other men complained about it. But not Darrel. Never him.
He always greeted me kindly, and his smile made me feel like I brightened his day. To my surprise, after he bought his lunch, he sat on the ground next to my lawn chair. "Darrel, please, take my chair," I pleaded, putting my hand on his sweaty arm. "You've been working hard all day."
"You're a lady. I'd feel awful if I took your chair," he said with finality, and with that, took a big bite of a taco. He sighed. "Mmmmm. Caroline, you shouldn't have a little table in a park with this cooking. You should have your own restaurant."
I turned my blushing face away, pretending to look for something in my purse. "Well, thank you! It is my dream, you know. That and to become a third grade teacher." I turned back toward the rock Darrel was sitting on, and was surprised to be even closer to him than before. He had leaned forward in interest.
"Really?"
I was taken a little off guard at his curiosity. "Yeah," I started slowly, smiling. "I love to cook, you know, and there's just something about that age, third grade-"
"CURTIS!" One of the other construction workers, Barry, hollered at Darrel. "Time to head back to work, man!"
Darrel's face fell, and I could feel my own mirroring it. "Sorry," he said softly, returning to his towering frame. Suddenly, his face lit up. "Hey...what do you do with the rest of your day?"
"Nothing," I replied, my heart starting to beat quickly. Was Darrel asking me on a date? Visions of spending HOURS on my hair and looking for the perfect outfit were about to flood my thoughts, but I put a stop to them so I wouldn't miss what he actually said. I had heard of too many misunderstandings because people jump to conclusions, and I was determined not to let that happen.
"I'd love to hear about your dreams," he began, his voice still soft. He was a little shy, his eyes darting all over the place. "Wanna meet me at the Tasty Freeze tonight?"
I could hardly contain myself from dancing! Darrel was so handsome, sweet, and kind, and he was asking ME? I'd only ever been on two dates in my life! "Yes! I'd love to! How's five?"
"Great. See ya then." He flashed his sweet smile once more, waved, and ran to catch up with the other guys.
The difference between Darrel and I was that when he left a conversation, he glanced back. He still had an enormous grin on his face when he met my eyes again, and butterflies exploded in my stomach.
I feel sorry for the girls who don't have an older sister. They are lacking someone who can fulfill many roles at any given time: mother, coach, beauty consultant, friend, confidant. Sometimes I need someone to be straightforward with me, or someone to encourage me, and friends aren't always the best at that.
Louise is my best friend. Ever since we were little, we did everything together. With a four year age gap, normally it would have been hard. When I was twelve and she was sixteen, she could have dropped me like a box of rocks to go on dates or go to parties with her friends, but she never abandoned me. She always made time for me, listened to my petty problems, and helped wherever she could. Her impact on my life drove me to do the same with my sister Grace. I wouldn't trade my relationships with my sisters for anything in the whole world.
Louise adores being married, and I could never ask her to give that up. However, some days I wish that her man could entertain and cook for himself for a week so that I could share a room with her again.
What's wonderful though, is that she doesn't live too far away, just on the other side of town. Her cute little car pulled into our driveway while I was still a ways' away with my table and chair. I sighed in relief. Louise would know just what I should wear for tonight.
Because Darrel had never said what this was. I assumed, from his shyness, that it would be a date. But what do you wear on a date to the Tasty Freeze? Should I do my hair? Should I wear make up? Should I wear a pretty dress?
"Caroline. Breathe," Louise told me, leading me to sit down on our porch swing. Once I had seen her from afar, I ran to meet her, and everything just kind of spilled out: Darrel, the Tasty Freeze, appearance worries…
Her green eyes that matched my own flashed in the sunlight. I could tell she was excited for me, too. That was something about Louise: she celebrated with people, in the big things, in the small things, wherever they were at. "This is gonna be great. He sounds like a sweetie, especially because he asked you on a date just to learn more about you and your dreams! It will be wonderful." She checked her watch. "It's almost two. We've got a few hours. Let's see what we can do."
Another thing about Louise was that she never tried to make me look like a model in a magazine. She focused on who I was and helped me accent my own physical attributes. Grace soon joined us, taking charge of my hair. "Oh, Caroline, you're so lucky to have hair like you do, color of cinnamon. Mine looks like sand," she complained, brushing it smooth.
"Gracie, don't you dare say that, honey," Louise said over her shoulder as she combed through my closet. "I'm thinking casual clothes, but we'll do your hair all nice and your make up. The boy's only seen you at that taco stand, and I know he'll love to see you dolled up a little bit."
My three choices were a soft pink floral dress, a yellow and white polka dotted number, and a green dress the color of ferns. My sisters tried to stay quiet as I chose, knowing that I was terrible at making my own decisions. Finally, Grace couldn't take it anymore. "The green would look so good with your eyes, Caroline! And the pink one is so flirty and feminine, he'd love it!"
"I want him to see me, though," I responded, picking up the yellow and white dress. Louise smiled and nodded in agreement, her hands clasped together, and her eyes making her seem far away, like she was seeing something I could not see.
"Caroline, if this works out, I know you will be the sunshine of that boy's life."