The conclusion of Chapter 6....

    Friday finally rolled around.  I was anxious about my date with Ilene, but not about meeting her folks.  I had asked Mama if she knew them and was relieved to find out she did know Mrs. Crabtree and had not ever been in a fight with her.  She said that Daddy had gone to school with Mr. Crabtree and that I was right, he does work at the hosiery mill.  But he was probably not a mechanic because when he was in school he was real smart.  Then she made sure that I understood that a person could be both smart AND a mechanic at the same time.  Mama was always careful not to sit in judgment of people.  How many times have I been told “Judge not, lest ye be judged.”  She might hit ‘em upside the head, but she didn’t think she was better than them.
    I had planned for everything that could possibly happen on my date with Ilene tonight.  I had plenty of money because I had cut two yards this week and hadn’t been nowhere since Monday.  Daddy was going to give me a ride over to Ilene’s house because Woody convinced me it didn’t look right to have your Mama drive you to a girl’s house.  And without a doubt your Mama would insist that you kiss her before she lets you out of the car.  My favorite jeans, a pair of red, white and blue striped Levi’s bell-bottoms were washed and ironed and had a crease that would cut your finger.  A brand new white shirt that I figured would look good since I was so tanned from working outside.  A pair of black Wellington boots that had the straps and buckles.  They also had a fairly wide square toe, which I really liked because I hadn’t seen anybody else with a pair like them.  My hair looked okay, but I wished it was longer.  I had practiced a whole bunch of things to talk about.  I had even looked in the encyclopedia and read who Lord Cromwell was.  And he was Lord Protector Oliver Cromwell, not “Lord protect us” as Woody had stated. When I took a bath, I scrubbed till my skin was red and even cleaned my toenails.  I put on plenty of bath powder, a large, wide, double coat of deodorant under both arms and some of my fathers Hai Karate aftershave.  I even put powder in my boots. I also had found a tiny bottle of mouthwash called “Nips” in the medicine cabinet.  One thing for sure, I was not going to stink.
    When six o’clock came, Daddy was not home from work yet.  I was getting panicky and almost going to ask Mama to take me over there when he drove up.  I ran out the door and jumped in the truck before he had a chance to cut it off.
    “Where are you going?” he asked as he slowly looked up and down my perfectly detailed attire.  “Boy have you been in my aftershave?”
    “Yessir, now can we go?”
    “Where are we going?”
    “You are going to drop me off at the Crabtree’s house at exactly six thirty.  I’m going to the picture show.”  I knew we had covered this topic four times this week.  Once every night since I had found out I was going on Monday.
     “Are you sure you want to do this?  We’re having steak tonight.”
    “Well save me some and let’s go.”
    “Let me run in and tell your Mama we’re gone.”
    “LET’S GO ALREADY!  SHE KNOWS, SHE KNOWS!”  I was about to have a conniption fit.
    He sat there laughing as we backed out of the driveway and headed toward town.  I was a little nervous and really didn’t need the pressure.
    “You know Henry Lee, Ilene’s daddy, is the head of Shipping and Receiving down at the hosiery mill.  He’s been there, Lord knows, fifteen, eighteen years now.  He and I both worked there afternoons in high school. Then I got on at the woodyard and Henry went to a business college or some such place. That boy made straight A’s all through school.”
    We turned the last corner onto their street and I already had my hand on the door handle and started to open it.
    “Hold on now!  Don’t jump, let me stop first!  Behave yourself.  You need me to come pick you up?” Daddy slowed the truck as I got ready to bail out.
    “Yeah…about ten thirty or so.  Bye.”  I slammed the door and started up the sidewalk, my evening’s checklist running through my mind.  I went to the front door and rang the doorbell.  Mr. Crabtree opened the door and pushed open the screen.
    “Dr. Livingstone, I presume?” He kind of smiled, anticipating an answer.
    “Uh...no…I’m…uh…Coy Povine, Jr.  I’m here to see Ilene.” I was about to wet my pants.  I actually looked down at them just to check, when I was walking into the living room.
    “Sure you are.  You look just like your father.  Come on in Coy.  ILENE!  Your date’s here!  Have a seat Coy.”
    I looked around to choose a seat, but he motioned me over to the couch.  When I walked across the wooden floor, my boots sounded like a horse clopping across the room.  And when I sat down on the couch, the end of the cushion shot up in the air.
    “So, you’re in Ilene’s class at school?  I went to school with your father years ago.  We also worked together at the mill for a while.”

    “Yessir.  He told me that.”  It was the best I could do.  I was kicking myself for not practicing something to say to her parents.  Mr. Crabtree sat down in what I would guess was his favorite chair.  It was beside a table with a lamp and was in direct line with the TV.  Reaching down beside the cushion of his chair, he pulled out a newspaper, then reached over and picked up his pipe from the table.  He kinda favored Steve Douglas on “My Three Sons”.

    “Ilene will be out in a second I’m sure.  Make yourself at home.”  He leaned forward and shook open his paper.  Leaning back, he propped his feet up on a stool, clenched his pipe in his teeth, held up the paper and seemed to forget I was there.  Without taking his eyes off of the paper, he picked up a lighter from the table and held it to his pipe.  Three or four puffs and smoke started rising from the bowl, all the while immersed in his paper.

    A few agonizingly quiet minutes had passed when out of nowhere came Lord Cromwell, as if he were shot from a cannon and shrieking like a banshee.  He hit the stool then flew into Mr. Crabtree’s newspaper.  Mr. Crabtree’s pipe dropped out of his now open mouth and fell between his legs.  Lord Cromwell leapt to the floor, shredding the newspaper then disappeared under the couch.  Mr. Crabtree was now standing up brushing the tobacco embers from his crotch.  I did my best to remain calm.

    “RHONDA!  Come get this bless-ed monkey!  NOW!”  It was obvious that Mr. Crabtree and Lord Cromwell did not willingly share control of the household.  Before I knew what had happened, Lord Cromwell came out from under the couch and grabbed my boot.  Without hesitation, he started biting my toe and running his hands up my pants.  Then, his head was up my pants leg and his hot little hands were pulling at my calf like he was trying to climb a tree.  Rhonda ran into the room.

    “EEEK!  I’m sorry Coy.”  She knelt down between the couch and the coffee table and started pulling Cromwell from my pants leg.  His grip loosened and he stopped screeching.  She talked softly to him as she stood up and cradled him in her arms.

    “Sorry about that.”  Rhonda walked out of the room just as Ilene came in.

    “Hi!  I’m ready.”  Ilene walked over to her father and kissed him on the cheek.  “We’ll be back around ten or so.”

    “Nice to meet you, sir.” I finally said something appropriate.  We went outside, down the steps and onto the sidewalk.

    “How’d you like my father?”

    “He was awright.  He thought I was some doctor though.”

    Ilene started laughing.  “Did he say, ‘Dr. Livingstone, I presume?’?”
    “Yeah, he did.”  I was a little uneasy with her laughter and my lack of understanding about what was so funny.
    “He says that to nearly everybody that comes to the door.  It’s just something he does.”  She was still smiling at me and then deliberately bumped her shoulder against mine as we walked along.
    “I’ve really looked forward to seeing you tonight.” I told her without looking at her.  Actually, with each step I was looking at the toe of my boot where Cromwell had bitten it.  There were several tiny tooth holes and dozens of scratches on my nice black boots.  You could see the natural leather color in each of the scratches.  Dadgum monkey.
    “Good.  I’ve been looking forward to seeing you, too.” she said, then reached over and took my hand as we walked along.  I quickly forgot about my monkey-scarred boots.