Let's Be Kids Again

Dallas makes it to his father's in less than fifteen minutes.

He opens the door and is greeted by the familiar smell of meat and potatoes. His father is cooking.

"Welcome home, son!" His father greets from the kitchen.

"I'm surprised you're here, old man. Normally you'd be at your job." Dallas retrieves a beer from the fridge.

"I took the day off. I thought about what you said and I want to make things right by spending time with you." Mr. Winston sets down the dinner for the evening. Bratwurst, potato pancakes, with a side of canned green beans. Dallas can't blame him for trying; it's been years since his father cooked anything for the two of them. He helps himself to the meat and pancakes while ladling a spoonful of green beans.

"A little too late for that, old man. But I appreciate the effort." Dallas knocks back his beer. "I'm working now and I'm still living with Buck. At least now I can pay some more bills."

"I know. I want to celebrate." Mr. Winston holds up his beer. "To manhood."

"To manhood."

They clink bottles.

"I see you've been staying out of trouble. That's good."

He had no other choice; the long hours left him tired and ready to hit the floor. He sleeps more now, crashing at Darry's for a few winks before heading out to finish his shift. His long hours make him lose time spent partying and fighting with his friends, though none of them complained; a working man is an honorable one.

"Yep." Dallas responds, sipping on his beer.

What's there to talk about? Birds and the Bees? Work? The true work of being a man? The news?

"So," Mr. Winston slices through his meat, "how was work?"

"Fine. Nothing happens out of the ordinary, other than having the most annoying coworkers. The boss is a pain in the ass who slashes checks when things don't go as planned."

"It's a part of life, working with people you don't necessarily like," He chews his food, "My boss is a buffoon as well."

Dallas chuckles.

Before the conversation could go further, the telephone rings.

"I'll get it," Mr. Winston rises and walks over to the telephone.

"Hello…yes…he's here right now…May I ask who I'm speaking to? Yes…okay…Dallas!"

Dallas walks over to the phone.

"For you," Mr. Winston mouths.

Dallas picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hey."

"Who is this?"

"It's Shirley. I noticed you scribbled your number on a piece of paper that you hid in my pen. You're clever."

He grins.

"I try."

"Look, I'm sorry about my uncle's behavior. He's not the most…accepting of whites, especially after the incidents that have been happening since we moved to this part."

"I thought you've been living here your whole life."

"I have, just not in the white part. We've moved here months ago and we've been receiving death threats. I don't even know why I'm telling you this. I hardly even know you."

"First time for everything, right? Let's work on getting to know each other. You seem like a cool chick, you dig?"

She giggles.

"Are you really from New York?"

"Yep. Born and raised."

"What's it like?"

"Big, noisy, full of art and full of food. I never really explored it that much; the most distance I had was from the streets of my projects."

"You're from the projects?"

"Yeah, in Harlem."

"Oh."

"What's your favorite color?"

"Purple. And yours?"

"I ain't got no favorite color."

"Alright. What's your sign?"

"Sagittarius. Yours?"

"Pisces."

"Pisces are supposed to be the pretty ones. I guess they're right."

He can hear her smile.

"You live with your uncle?"

"Yeah, I live with him, his wife, my mom, and my cousins."

"You an only child?"

"No. My big sister is in college down in Atlanta and my brother lives with my dad in Vermont."

"You going to school?"

"Yeah. I'm going to Morehouse in the Fall. I'm studying to be a journalist."

"That sounds pretty tuff."

"What does 'tuff' mean?"

"It means something cool, like…Elvis Presley or James Dean."

"I'm not a fan of either. I'm more of a Sidney Poitier or Eartha Kitt fan."

"Who are they?"

She laughs softly.

"People I adore."

"Are you free for the holidays? I'm off work for a few days since Christmas is around the corner. We can go to this spot I used to visit where the snow covers everything. It's real quiet, and it looks really pretty when the sun sets."

"Are you asking me on a date, Dallas?"

"Yeah. I am."

A pause.

"It's a date."

"Okay. I'll pick you up at 8."

"I work at 8."

"I'll pick you up when you get off work."

"…okay. I'll see you tomorrow."

"Alright."

"Goodnight, Dallas."

"Goodnight, Shirley."

He hangs up.

"Who's the lovely lady?" Mr. Winston asks.

"This cute girl I met at a diner."

Dallas breezes through work. He clocks in, chit-chats with Darry and Miguel, dodges Jim's conversation and produces more toys than ever. When it was time to clock out, he punches out without so much as a word to his boss. He bolts home, showers, irons his T-shirt and picks out his best leather jacket. He has to look his best.

He looks in the mirror and fluffs his hair, only for his wispy curls fall and kiss his face. He may have inherited his blond hair and blue eyes from his father, but his curls come from his mother. Sighing, he tries in vain to get them out of his face.

"Fuck it." Dallas shakes his head and walks out his room. Buck is cooking something on the stove when he notices Dallas run out.

"Hey, man!" he hollers after him, "Where you running off to? I haven't seen you in weeks! I thought I was rooming with a ghost or something!"

"Hot date tonight." Dallas hollers back, slamming the door.

"By the way, I'm borrowing your car."

He pulls up to Cajun Lonnie's and walks right in. He takes a seat, eyes scanning over for Shirley. When he sees a fluffy afro, dark chocolate skin, and those bright brown eyes, Dallas's stomach flutters.

"Hello, stranger." She smiles at him.

"Hello, gorgeous."

She's wearing a black turtleneck, blue jeans, and a heavy leather jacket and a pair of black boots. Her big earrings and dramatic eyes draw his attention; he has a thing for eyes.

"Ready to go?"

"After you." He opens the door for her.

"Goodnight, Tim!" She hollers out after her coworker, and Dallas closes the door.

"I never really come to places like this," Shirley confesses. They've been driving down the streets and avenues of the fancier side of town. They've passed closed restaurants, boutiques, a few Mom and Pop businesses before they settled on a nice neighborhood. Dallas pulls over, locks the doors, and guides Shirley out of the car.

"Because you're a lady. Ladies got no business prowling the streets alone. It's dangerous." Dallas looks back and forth before letting Shirley cross the street, following behind her like a bodyguard. When they reach a sidewalk, Dallas nudges her to the middle while he walks on the side of the curb.

"Thank you," she says.

"Anytime."

"It looks so amazing tonight."

The neighbors have strung up their Christmas lights; everything seemed to glow gold, red, and green.

"It gets even better; the Johnsons have their houses decorated to the nines every year. It looks like Winter Wonderland." Dallas points to the house that greets their focal point, glowing in blues and whites. As he gets lost in the countless memories sneaking over to see the lights, a cold blast hits him in the back. He whips his head around and sees Shirley scrambling to make another snowball.

"You're gonna get it now," Dallas snarls. He balls up the biggest snowball he could make and throws it at her. She yelps; the snowball hits her in the stomach.

"I'm really gonna get you now!" Shirley fires back. She forms another snowball and chucks it at him. He ducks, scoops up some snow, and throws it at her. She shrieks and runs away from him, throwing snow at him as she runs. Dallas catches up to her and throws a barrage of snowballs at her, each one making her lose her balance. She falls in the snow, shaking with laughter. Dallas stands over her, his face red and grinning like a schoolboy. He holds his hand out for her to take. Expecting her to use his hand to lift her up, he was pulled face first into the snow. Wiping the snow from his face, he rolls on his back and chuckles.

"It's been a while since I played in the snow like this." Shirley breathes out.

"It's been a while since I had a snowball fight." Dallas replied.

"I feel like ten again. Feel like making snow angels."

"What's stopping you?"

"I just did my hair and it's too cold."

"Fair enough." He looks up at the sky. Stars are twinkling, giving them a celestial view.

"It's lovely up there." Shirley says.

"I know. But it's not as lovely as you," he looks over at her. Shirley snorts.

"You're so cheesy!" she giggles.

"I'm trying to be romantic and sweet here. This is a date, after all."

"You can still be sweet without being cheesy. We're getting to know each other, remember?"

Her eyes meet his.

"Yeah."

He's staring at her lips.

"Hey, aren't we going to check out Johnson's place and hit that spot you've been talking about?"

"Yeah, let's go." He stands up and pulls her to him.

"Watch your step," he says in her ear. Those soft brown eyes flicker over to his blue ones. Their bodies melded together, under the glow of tacky Christmas lights, in the dead of night where nothing can be heard but their breaths; it was something of romance novels. Shirley's nose touches his, her lips centimeters away from his. They lock eyes, and in a matter of seconds, her lips touch his.

It's a chaste kiss; a quick peck and she jerks back, eyebrows crossed with worry.

"What's wrong?"

"We're moving a little fast. We need to take it…"

"Hey," he grabs her chin. "Don't think about it, just…let it happen."

He kisses her again.

When the kiss deepens, Dallas feels a burst of pride when he hears her soft moan. He wraps his arms around her shoulders, hands caressing the back of her head. They pull away, panting. Shirley's lip gloss gone, Dallas's face is smeared with the substance and it smells faintly of strawberries. He licks his lips and wipes the gloss off his face.

"Woah," she pants out.

"Yeah." He replies.

"What the hell is going on?"

The two jump. The owner of the brightly colored home is standing at the foot of the door, eyes wide as saucers and jaw hanging to the ground.

"You goddamned kids better get the hell off my lawn before I put my foot in both of your asses!" he yells.

"Shit, c'mon, let's go!" Dallas grabs Shirley's hand and they run to the car. Dallas starts the ignition and pulls off. They're driving down the road, and he hears her giggle. Within seconds, he giggles too.