Hold My Hand
The sun has started to set, and he’s looking at me across the table. Around us people are talking, and I glance down to check the time. Almost six. Almost time. His cousin is saying something about work and I’m trying to pay attention. I’m trying to give him eye contact and encourage him to talk around this group of predominantly strong women who have clearly taken the lead on conversing.
For a month now, he’s been talking about me being in Charleston by six this evening. I took the day off work as soon as he asked, but he wouldn’t give me so much as a hint. He only asks me what I think it could be. Well how do you answer that? I have no idea. I spend hours in my head all day, amused by myself for my own entertainment. What do I think it could be? Anything. I imagine a picnic by the sea, but we had eaten dinner already. I imagine a museum, but why the time? Everything would be closed by then. I think maybe a carriage ride, but the timing again was critical. Why six? Why so important to catch a six o’clock ride?
With that charming grin he says it’s time to go. Did I get up too fast? Is the fact that my shoes are on my feet and my purse on my shoulder making it too obvious that I can’t slow myself? I need to know, I am dying to know now what it is he’s got up his sleeve. He asks again what I think it could be, and when I go to answer him I’ms truck once more by the openness of his face, the way he’s looking at me like he’s as excited as I am. I would go anywhere and do anything with joy in my heart for the way he was looking at me.
We drive his sensible hybrid, easier to park as my truck is a beast. We must be going somewhere crowded, or somewhere down town. We’re leaving for a camping trip the next morning so it wasn’t a long-distance, fuel consideration. My powers of deduction end there though. What’s happening in Charleston tonight? Why didn’t I think to look that up? Because I still expected something low-key. Was it a picnic after all with dessert?
There are signs for event parking. Ah ha. It’s an event after all. But.. what event? Maybe a flea market? Maybe there’s a wine tasting or a craft fair? Still no real clues or answers. Once parked we found school buses and the amusement tickled me. How long since I’d been on a bus? Where were we going?! Nothing gave it away, no one declared what it was a shuttle to, and so in the spirit of the adventure, I climbed on board while he giggled next to me. Normally my brain would be picking apart every clue, looking for the thread that would help me solve this riddle. But the moment had me wrapped up in the delicious anticipation of a well-kept surprise. Why try to solve it when I could just relax and bask in the joy?
Eventually we roll to a stop at the tennis stadium. Is this a sports thing? Again the idea of a craft show or flea market springs to mind, but it doesn’t feel right. I played tennis in high school, but I haven’t followed it as a fan in decades. We round a corner and there’s a banner over the stadium entrance. Summer Concert Series. A concert. Of course! That made so much sense now! But who? Who would he be confident I liked enough to buy tickets and was currently touring? The sign offered me no further answers. We wander through the crowds and I see a marquee with band names and dates. Dare I look? I could answer all of this now. But no. I won’t. I want it to be his reveal. So I keep my eyes locked forward and we find our seats.
The stage offers nothing for clues. Four painted houses to represent the city we’re in, but nothing by the way of a band name. The instruments are set up, the DJ is keeping things entertaining. He turns and it’s then I ask “Who?” And he shows me the tickets on his phone.
We’ve been together for just a few weeks in this tornado of connection we’ve had, and after just a couple of dates I mentioned wanting to see Hootie and the Blowfish in concert. I’d even wager it was after someone informed me they’re Charleston natives and I thought that must be awesome. Less than a couple of weeks into this thing, he bought the tickets. He was already making plans and listening to me, looking for special ways to tell me what I meant to him. Who even does that?!
But there, on his screen, was the answer. He did that. As the sun died and the opening band came to a close, my heart raced. Not just for the concert, but for the meaning behind it all. They sang songs I knew, songs I didn’t, and a few covers. We got stuck next to a leggy blonde with more booze than personality, and it was a hot, humid night, but through everything he was amazing and even sang some of my most favorite songs with me.
It was far and away the best secret date. We may have left smelling like beer and a little worse for the wear, but the memory is a blazing hot fire inside me. Like those perfect summer nights I’ve tried so hard to recapture, it’s etched in the folds of my heart for all time. If I wasn’t already crazy about him, I would have been for this alone.
My life is amazing, and he is fast becoming an integral part of my world.
For a month now, he’s been talking about me being in Charleston by six this evening. I took the day off work as soon as he asked, but he wouldn’t give me so much as a hint. He only asks me what I think it could be. Well how do you answer that? I have no idea. I spend hours in my head all day, amused by myself for my own entertainment. What do I think it could be? Anything. I imagine a picnic by the sea, but we had eaten dinner already. I imagine a museum, but why the time? Everything would be closed by then. I think maybe a carriage ride, but the timing again was critical. Why six? Why so important to catch a six o’clock ride?
With that charming grin he says it’s time to go. Did I get up too fast? Is the fact that my shoes are on my feet and my purse on my shoulder making it too obvious that I can’t slow myself? I need to know, I am dying to know now what it is he’s got up his sleeve. He asks again what I think it could be, and when I go to answer him I’ms truck once more by the openness of his face, the way he’s looking at me like he’s as excited as I am. I would go anywhere and do anything with joy in my heart for the way he was looking at me.
We drive his sensible hybrid, easier to park as my truck is a beast. We must be going somewhere crowded, or somewhere down town. We’re leaving for a camping trip the next morning so it wasn’t a long-distance, fuel consideration. My powers of deduction end there though. What’s happening in Charleston tonight? Why didn’t I think to look that up? Because I still expected something low-key. Was it a picnic after all with dessert?
There are signs for event parking. Ah ha. It’s an event after all. But.. what event? Maybe a flea market? Maybe there’s a wine tasting or a craft fair? Still no real clues or answers. Once parked we found school buses and the amusement tickled me. How long since I’d been on a bus? Where were we going?! Nothing gave it away, no one declared what it was a shuttle to, and so in the spirit of the adventure, I climbed on board while he giggled next to me. Normally my brain would be picking apart every clue, looking for the thread that would help me solve this riddle. But the moment had me wrapped up in the delicious anticipation of a well-kept surprise. Why try to solve it when I could just relax and bask in the joy?
Eventually we roll to a stop at the tennis stadium. Is this a sports thing? Again the idea of a craft show or flea market springs to mind, but it doesn’t feel right. I played tennis in high school, but I haven’t followed it as a fan in decades. We round a corner and there’s a banner over the stadium entrance. Summer Concert Series. A concert. Of course! That made so much sense now! But who? Who would he be confident I liked enough to buy tickets and was currently touring? The sign offered me no further answers. We wander through the crowds and I see a marquee with band names and dates. Dare I look? I could answer all of this now. But no. I won’t. I want it to be his reveal. So I keep my eyes locked forward and we find our seats.
The stage offers nothing for clues. Four painted houses to represent the city we’re in, but nothing by the way of a band name. The instruments are set up, the DJ is keeping things entertaining. He turns and it’s then I ask “Who?” And he shows me the tickets on his phone.
We’ve been together for just a few weeks in this tornado of connection we’ve had, and after just a couple of dates I mentioned wanting to see Hootie and the Blowfish in concert. I’d even wager it was after someone informed me they’re Charleston natives and I thought that must be awesome. Less than a couple of weeks into this thing, he bought the tickets. He was already making plans and listening to me, looking for special ways to tell me what I meant to him. Who even does that?!
But there, on his screen, was the answer. He did that. As the sun died and the opening band came to a close, my heart raced. Not just for the concert, but for the meaning behind it all. They sang songs I knew, songs I didn’t, and a few covers. We got stuck next to a leggy blonde with more booze than personality, and it was a hot, humid night, but through everything he was amazing and even sang some of my most favorite songs with me.
It was far and away the best secret date. We may have left smelling like beer and a little worse for the wear, but the memory is a blazing hot fire inside me. Like those perfect summer nights I’ve tried so hard to recapture, it’s etched in the folds of my heart for all time. If I wasn’t already crazy about him, I would have been for this alone.
My life is amazing, and he is fast becoming an integral part of my world.
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