She's a Rejector

“Thanks again for the ride, Mom.” I said, shoving the door open. It gets kinda stuck sometimes. Flo and I are going to a carnival today. And of course I told Carl -

“You got a date! I always knew you had the potential to be a lady killer! Okay, the first thing you have to do is buy lots of musky cologne. I’d lend you some of mine, but, hey, I need some for myself. So you just buy it, and spray it all over you. Then, you have to eat lots and lots of-”

“Carl! It’s just one date that her grandmother arranged. It’s not that serious. And since when do you know anything about girls?”

“Shh, Nick, just trust in the master. Me.”

- And that’s how we ended up spending $108.54 in Walmart on Axe, beef patties, and Secret Deodorant.

He then, of course, told my mother:

“Oh. Mon dieu! My little Yanick is growing up, oh my God! I can’t wait! You have to let me comb your hair! Vous cheveux regarde toujours comme de la merde! Wear that shirt your grandmere bought you for Christmas! Just wait until your father hears about this!”

“Ugh, Ma, all I want is a ride. And can we please not bring dad into this?” I slammed my head onto the table. I really should’ve just asked Carl for a ride. He’s a bit weirder, but he won’t tell any stories about how I was just an adorable little baby boy and do you want to see pictures?

I can’t drive. When I was 16 I took Drivers Ed and failed the written tests, so I wasn’t allowed in the car with the instructor. At 19, I finally passed and got to show my ‘skills’ to the old man in the passenger seat. I crashed. Into a tree. Still in the school parking lot. After that I kinda just gave up on ever being to drive. I’m lucky to have a friend Carl with no life who’s always available on those days when a bike won’t do. Like today. With this date. Except he’s busy.

My mom’s car is a super small and old Nissan Sentra in goldy browny color, although I think the brown is rust and dirt. Flo and I sat in the back seat for a whole 43 minutes on our way to the abandoned Sheckles Field where high-schoolers have crazy keg parties and the townsfolk host carnivals. I was extremely uncomfortable the entire ride.

1. I’m sitting next to a hottie hot hottie named Flo who’s most likely thinking of ways to end this ‘date’ early.
2. I’m over 6 foot in a back seat, I’m kind of scrunched up like an accordion right now.
3. My mom is telling crazy stories about my childhood in her thick French accent. I know that Flo can’t understand a word she’s saying, but being polite, laughs and nods her head occasionally.

Also, which turns out to be a bad thing, Carl was trailing behind us the entire time. Even though I asked him not to, I think he’s going to try and help me on my date with Flo, as if he hasn’t helped me enough by empting my wallet.

Around 7:30 we finally reached the carnival. I actually love carnivals. The excitement and the games and the cotton candy and funnel cakes and clowns and rides just made me happy. The last time I went to the carnival was when I was 15. I went to accompany Carl on his date with Martha, A.K.A. I was sitting alone on a bench whilst they snuggle wuggled on the Ferris wheel.

“No, no wait! I need pictures!” Candace, my mother, squealed. Turning to Flo, “This is his first date since 7th grade! I’m so excited!” At that, Florence cackled.

“Shut up, it’s not that funny! There are lots of people who don’t date…” I tried to defend myself, causing Florence and my Mother to laugh even harder. “Just take the damn pictures and go home.” I grumbled.

Standing next to Florence is awkward. She’s so small and cute and curvy and I feel like I’m going to fall on her, of which there is a high possibility of happening. Grace and I aren’t good friends. I put my arm around her shoulders and smiled as my mom’s camera flash went off. Several times. She moved Flo and me into an uncomfortable hugging position for more photos.

“Finally,” Florence grumbled as my mom pulled out of the parking lot, still waving.

“Let’s get this party started!” I exclaimed, dragging her to the ticket line.