Sitting in this insipid class is the last place I want to be.
Dr. Adams is a nice woman, but her monotonous voice and lifeless teaching style has me one nod away from REM sleep.
On top of that, my brain is refusing to focus on anything remotely related to school right now.No matter how hard I try, I can't keep my thoughts from swaying to...him.
Concentration really is a necessary factor in passing this class, but my mind won't stop wandering, pondering the names of future offspring and types of flower arrangements that will adorn the tables at our wedding ceremony.
I am tripping. Ever since our first motorcycle fiasco, the night that he miraculously managed to turn into a a dream date, I've been walking around acting like a sixth-grader with a crush. Can't stop the smile that forms when I see his name light up the display on my phone. Have to repress the urge to scribble 'I *heart* Abram' all over my notebook. This is ridiculous.
When the clock strikes three and we're finally released from the torment, I head over to the mall for a day of shopping. It has become my mother's and my tradition to meet up weekly and do some mother-daughter bonding of sorts through the long-appreciated art of retail therapy.
I love these shopping trips with my mother. She is by far the hippest forty-nine-year-old I know. Her sense of fashion can rival that of any trendy twenty-five-year-old's any day. Today we have agreed to meet at Somerset Mall to hit the sale going on at Macy's and then Saks Fifth Avenue. This couldn't have come at a better time. Using my mother as a soundboard for the craziness that is my life always helps me put things in perspective. She is the only person whose advice I will trust blindly.
I pull up to the mall and park in the far back of the crowded parking lot. The long walk to the doors will help work off the hearty slice of cheese cake I had for lunch. I feel my hip vibrating and let a smile escape when I see Abram's name appear on the screen.
"You know that movie Hitch with Will Smith, when he calls her and he says 'just hearing your voice makes me smile..?'"
"Uh, yes, I love that movie. I remember that part."
"Well, I just did that. I just smiled when you answered the phone. Wow, I've just entered a whole new level of suckerhood." He laughs, his voice sunny, happy.
I smile, let out a slight chuckle. Am I really blushing?
These moments are the reasons his name is imprinted in my brain. This right here.
"Well, you should smile at least once a day. Doctor's orders." I say jokingly. "What's up?"
"Just wanted to see how you were. Was riding down Woodward and remembered your panic attack the other night. It's still cracking me up." He laughs.
He has been teasing me about the near-conniption I had when we were headed downtown for our date for the last few days now. I saw a puddle, and I screamed, no, more like screeched. I could just envision my soggy hair and soaking wet clothes as the bike lost it's ground and slid across the pavement. Not a good look. Abram had simply did a slight move of the wheel and we went around the puddle with ease. Due to my extreme case of anxiety and the gushing tears that had followed earlier, he did not tease me right then.
Oh, he was enjoying it now though.
"Haha. You can let that go now, really." I say, a bright smile still adorning my face.
"Oh no, that one is going down in the books, babe."
His voice has become a soothing balm, tending to the sore spots in my dramatic life and making me feel so comfortable, I often have to remind myself that we've only known each other for three weeks. This ball has been rolling way too fast....but I can't seem to stop it. And I'm not sure if I want to.
I find my mother in Macy's at one of the many sale racks, holding up three different silk camis. She is dressed in her typical summer uniform of designer slacks and sleeveless top. Her black hair flows just past her shoulders, ending in a slight curl between her blades. I say a reluctant goodbye to Abram and walk over to an older, slightly thicker version of myself.
"Mama. You look lovely."
"My baby. And you look like me."
We share our usual hug and greeting and get down to the reason we've chosen Macy's today. There is a semi-annual sale going on and I haven't been shopping in weeks. I going to do some serious damage to one of my small rectangular pieces of plastic today.
"So tell me about this Abram...surely you've got lots to tell me, seeing as though every time I call you you're on the phone with the boy."
I break into a knowing grin, remembering all the times I've failed to call my mother back after hours of sitting on the phone with Abram. I tell her about the sweetest man I've met in ages. How he has come at an incredibly perfect time in my life. I don't know where this will lead, but I sure am enjoying the ride.
I recall, in detail, our first date for my mother. How he handled my freak-out without doing so himself, how we rode under the speed limit for the majority of the ride until I was comfortable with the whole motorcycle thing. And then how he took me to the Jazz Cafe at the Music Hall to listen to his favorite kind of music. How we laughed and talked and spoke of our dreams and fears and the personal histories that shaped us into the people we've become.
I describe to her my perfect date made reality.
All she can do is smile. The raise in her eyebrow lets me know some mama advice is coming as well.
"Well he sounds like his mama raised a good one, baby. I'm happy for you. Just make sure you keep your head out of the clouds when it comes time for your classes. He may be perfect, but if he interrupts your own personal goals, he may lose a few points in my mind, and we don't want that, now do we?" She says in a tone that conveys love and seriousness all in the same note.
My mother. Or the education-nazi, as I like to call her. No matter what, her priority for my life has always been education, so I can achieve "what she only wishes she could have when she was my age". She has so many aspirations and hopes for me, and faith that I can do 'great things', that I have no choice but to believe it myself.
After spending a half hour trying on various skirts, dresses, jeans, and shoes, we make our final selections at Macy's and take a brief interlude before perusing the rest of the mall to grab a bite to eat. My phone rings. Once again it is Abram.
Once again I smile.
"Hey, sorry to interrupt your shopping, but I just wanted to know if you have any plans for Saturday." He says, a subtle nervousness in his voice.
"Uh, no, I don't think so, why? Wanna hang out?"
"Yeah... something like that. My family is having a cookout. I'd like you to come. And, my mother wants to meet you."
The ball that I thought was rolling too fast suddenly jolts forward with the speed of an Amtrak.