Play Date

When he honked from the driveway, a few minutes late, like he always was, she approached him nervously and paused for a moment next to hs door.

"You look nice this afternoon," he stammered, unsure of himself.

She laughed and looked down at the shiny red convertible, her sunglasses clutched in her sweaty palms, wondering if he drove fast and if she would be able to feel the wind in her hair.

Smoothing her skirt and thanking goodness that she was wearing a fresh diaper, she got in the car. He scooted closer to his door, thinking that he liked the smell of her baby lotion but worrying that she could smell his Desitin. They slipped on their sunglasses and stared into the bright afternoon.

"Where do you want to go?" he asked, turning to look at her, as she simultaneously chirped, "Sure is a nice day!" while swiveling her head to look at him.

"You go first," they both blurted. "No, really, you," they said in unison. Embarrassed, he fixed both eyes firmly on the road, and she did the same.

"I'm on whole milk now," she offered, venturing a glance.

He tore his eyes off the blacktop to give her a knowing look. "Me too," he said. "Want to go to Starbucks? My mom and I go there sometimes. They'll give you whole milk hot or cold in a cool cup with a really fun lid."


"Okay," she said.

"Wait!" he gulped, sensing her hesitation. "We could go to Barriques or EVP instead. If you're into supporting local businesses instead of multinational conglomerates, that is."

"That's okay," she told him. "Starbucks treats their employees really well, and they're helping the failing CD industry, so as far as corporate giants go, they're pretty jolly."


"And you know what else?" he asked, happy that she shared his love of Big Coffee. "The drink standardization is comforting."

"Totally!" she exclaimed, her voice warm and genuine. "I could be at an airport, or a college campus, or even a Target store, and my cup of milk will always taste the same."

"I love that," he said.

"I love that, too."


Happy to have a destination in mind, they both relaxed against the hard plastic seats and listened to the music coming from the general direction of the speaker decals.


Checking his blind spot, he wondered if she noticed his personalized license plate, decided she had, and debated if he could put his arm around her, or if he should wait until they were both a little giddy with hormone-laden milk fat and the novelty of paper cups.


He decided to wait, and they rode in companionable silence.


Clutching a couple of plastic balls in her hands, she soaked up the June sun, glad she was wearing spaghetti straps and wondering if it was safe for him to drive with no hands, in his bare feet that dangled feet above the pedals.


He, meanwhile, was soaked through wth a sense of self importance and-- quite possibly-- some urine.