"Star-Vue Drive-In To Close"

"Star-Vue Drive-In To Close"

There it was; right on the cover of the Sunday Paper’s Local Section. “Star-Vue Drive-In To Close.”

It was our first date. I was anxious because “officially” I wasn’t allowed to go to a drive-in with a boy. But hey, what Mom and Dad didn’t know couldn’t hurt you, right? Besides, Frank was the cutest guy in the school: BMOC, All-State, Football Quarterback, and much higher in social status than I thought a girl like me, little Rhoda Atkins, with her glasses and ever-present book, could ever catch. Things were going to happen for me now. Frank had seen potential in me where the other popular kids hadn’t and he was going to be my ticket into their world. No more lunches alone. No more spitballs in my hair. No more Rhoda “Scrotum.”

It didn’t happen that way.

We went on the date. Frank was a parent’s dream gentleman. No honking for me outside; he came up to the door and met my parents. He and my father talked for a half hour about Joe Namath and the Jets. Then Frank walked me to his pickup truck: a 57 Ford? Chevy? I don’t know, I’ve never been good at automobiles. I do know he couldn’t have loved his “Plum Baby” anymore if it had been his mother.

First we went to a hamburger stand where I had the obligatory girl’s dinner: a small salad. Frank had three cheeseburgers. He didn’t talk much, but then there weren’t a lot of moments when his mouth wasn’t full. I found myself filling the truck cab with nervous chatter. His truck was surrounded by other cars peopled with all of his friends; for me, it was almost like being in Hollywood sighting celebrities. Once in a while one of the “beautiful people” would come to Frank’s window and ask him something about the game Friday night or whether he was going to be on the baseball team this year, and I would quiet to an awestruck silence. I was grateful he never introduced me, seeing it as his treating me as if I were already a member of the select few not someone who had to be introduced in as a stranger.

There was a triple feature at the drive-in, but I’d already told Frank I could only stay for the first two movies: “House of Dark Shadows” and “Count Yorga.” Vampire movies weren’t exactly my favorites, but I supposed they were standard drive-in movie fare. Frank got us both some popcorn and a coke and we waited accompanied by the pre-movie sounds of him munching popcorn and my nervous chatter. Really I can still make myself embarrassed by it; the inane drivel that came out of my mouth.

“Isn’t that Bob Gorham’s car? My that’s a pretty blue. I wonder if he had that painted custom? Isn’t that Laura Evans with him? I thought he was dating Julie Moran?” On and on and on with no empty space for Frank to interject a thought or opinion.

But it was going well. I really thought the date was going well as the lights went dim, a Pink Panther cartoon started and Frank put his popcorn down and slid closer to me. Frank laughed a little too loud and had popcorn stuck between his teeth, but I thought, “Well, boys are less refined than girls.”

Disappointing after the hamburger stand, Frank left the truck during the beginning of the first movie. “I need to talk to the guys for a moment.” He returned 45 minutes later and the smell of alcohol filled the truck cab. Uh oh. “Offical Rule #2” broken: never get into a car with a boy who has been drinking. But he hadn’t been drinking when I got in.

Frank slid over next to me and snaked an arm around me, drawing me close. He brushed his lips against my chin. I was both enticed and terrified. Before the first girl in the film had been bitten, Frank had slid his fingers into my bra. By the middle of the picture, I was fighting those fingers slipping into my panties. Now I was still scared, but I was also a little angry. I pushed him away from me.

“Hey! Knock it off! This is a First date remember?”

“C’mon baby. We both know why you’re here. Give a little get a little.”

He moved in closer and tried to kiss me; his mouth open and tongue extended.

“No!” I wriggled away.

“All those people you’ve been admiring all night? They’ll be your friends. And I’ll be your friend.”

He moved in again.

There’s was nothing for me to do. Nothing to do but get out of the car.

“You’re making a mistake. This offer won’t come again.”

All of the pride I felt when I slammed his truck door, was slightly diminished by the fact that I bumped my jaw on the metal as I did it. Not exactly my most graceful moment.

Frank started his truck, threw on his lights and roared out of the drive-in. Car lights all around me flashed and horns honked. So much for it being a private moment of humiliation.

Later, leaning against the snack bar, rubbing an ice cube against my jaw, my future husband said his first words to me: “Gives a whole new meaning to love em and leave em, doesn’t it?”

At a time when my poor teenaged heart felt broken, that man made me laugh. Forty years later he still does.