We could hear the phone ringing that Sunday morning as we arrived home from church. Older sister Laurie Ann, first through the door, already had a head start for the kitchen, adrift with the aroma of fresh bakery crumb buns. My only desire was to get out of my "Sunday best". Mother, last in, was taking off her coat as I raced up the stairs. I heard the words ‘somebody get that’, but the ringing continued. I could feel mother’s annoyance all the way upstairs. Then the ringing stopped. Curious, I went to the top of the stairs.
"Hello, Wentworth residence." Mother seemed to elevate to the Queen’s English, most often on the telephone. To me she sounded more like the maid answering. Only we didn't have a maid. "Yes, yes. If you would kindly wait one moment, I will see if she is available."
I heard the maid call out, "Catherine, it's for you...A young man named, Challs."
When Mother said Charles, it sounded like Challs. I wondered how Queen Elizabeth would sound when calling Prince Charlie.
I barefooted my way back down the stairs. "Did you say it was ‘Challs’, Mother?" accenting ‘challs’.
"I distinctly heard the young man say Challs, Catherine. Do not make fun."
“Hi,“ I said into the receiver, “Yes, I remember you, Charlie...Gee, I don't know...Wait, and I'll see.”…"Mother, 'Challs' wants to know if I can go for a ride this afternoon."
"You mean, in a car? Do I know this boy?"
"Yes, in a car. Mother, you met him at Laurie Ann's birthday party a few months ago."
"At Laura's birthday party? I don't remember a Challs."
"Mother, please. You remember. He was the quiet one with the green tie.”
"Well, I suppose I do. Is he a safe driver?"
"Mother, how would I know? We've never been out on a date."
"Remember, Catherine, you're only sixteen. You tell the young man you have to be home in time for dinner, and that he must drive carefully."
"Thanks, Mother." Nothing was ever simple in our house.
"Charlie, it's okay, but I have to be back by dinner. Okay, I'll see you in an hour."
A while later, I looked out the upstairs window to see a silver convertible rolling slowly up the drive. Charlie looked more than at ease behind the wheel of his dad's Cadillac, considering he’d only just gotten his junior diver’s license. His one hand casually rested on the side-view mirror, the other comfortably on the steering wheel. There he was with a hot stuff “look-at-me” expression on his face.
Would Mother like Challs? I wasn't sure and didn't particularly care. I raced down the stairs, hoping to beat Mother to the door, hoping a possible escape before she had a chance to engage Challs in some inane parent-driven conversation. I exerted delicate pressure against the screen door as I slipped out, attempting to prevent the usual slam that shook house and dearly departed alike. A soft, breeze brushed my face as I ran cat-like to the car. I slid in, and attempted to close the door as gently as I could, still hoping not to alert Mother.
Charlie watched my charade without expression.
"Hi, Catherine. The door's not closed."
"Hi, Charlie. I know. Let's get going before mother shows."
He backed the car down the drive without even turning his head, but used the side-view mirror as his guide. What a show-off! I had tried that myself, but scuffed Mother's whitewalls a few times, suffering tongue-lashings that delighted Laurie Ann. I wondered how much he had practiced the art of backing up.
