That very night I began the search.
It had to be here somewhere. I'd actually seen it just a few days before, but like always, when I needed something I couldn't find it. Otherwise I was stumbling over it every couple of minutes.
"Doggone it," I whispered to myself. "I know it's here somewhere."
I unlocked the padlock on my footlocker and started digging around through the years. Signed baseball from my old Little League team, the soap-on-a-rope I'd gotten the Christmas before, and my blue plastic bottle of marbles.
Then I brushed aside last November's copy of MAD magazine and there it was. I'd bought it at Yankee Stadium the day my dad took me to my very first major league baseball game. It was the same day a firecracker exploded next to Ray Fosse of the Indians in the afternoon game of a doubleheader. It was one of my favorite possessions; an engraved New York Yankee ring, complete with Yankee logo.
Of course, it was a perfect plan. I'd take the ring down to Lisa's house and give it to her and we'd be together forever. She'd fall madly in love with me and would be my girl forever thereafter. I mean, what self-respecting 12-year old girl could resist such a gift? After all, it was the Yankees.
Oddly enough, though, it didn't turn out that way.
I took the ring out of the trunk and looked at it closely. There were a few dings and scratches, but all in all, it was still in pretty good shape, especially when you consider that it had made the trip to Virginia in my trunk sandwiched between a bottle of ink and an empty plastic piggy bank.
Rubbing it gingerly between my thumb and forefinger, I shut the trunk and went looking for a piece of paper. I fancied myself a relatively good writer, so taking pen in hand I laid down the greatest love letter anyone had ever written, folded the paper with the ring inside and stuffed the luv-soaked package in my back pocket.
"Mom!" I shouted, bounding down the stairs. "I'll be back in a few minutes!"
Mom stopped what she was doing and leaned up the stairwell. "Where are you going?" she asked. "It's almost dark."
"I know. I'm just going out for a ride around the block. I won't be very long." I turned before she could protest and ran out the front door, closing it with a slam.
After Donnie and I had finished our riding that afternoon, I'd left my bike sitting in front of the garage. Grabbing the handlebars and jumping on, I pedaled as fast as I could down the hill, this time bending down like a skier on a Giant Slalom. I was very anxious to get there, so I wanted to go as fast as I could.
The wind whistled through my hair as I sped down the hill. Even climbing the next to get to her street was easy. I'd gained such momentum that I went halfway up before I actually had to pedal.
Finally coming to rest in front of Lisa's house, I quickly scanned it for lights. There were none. No one was home.
"Dang it," I said out loud.
But this couldn't wait. I was on a mission.
Dropping my bike beside the road, I walked across her front yard and onto the porch. It was the first time I'd been this close to the front door. It made me wobbly. The aromatic smell of dinner still emanated from the house. She'd been there, I thought, and had left again. And it hadn't been long.
I rang the bell, just in case her parents had decided to leave her home, but there was no answer. I stood on the doorstep for several minutes, wondering what I should do. Finally, I took the package out of my pocket and looked at it. I suddenly found myself wishing I'd written it on plain paper instead of lined, but I shook my head, brushing that thought to the side, and looked down the street. No one. No cars, no people.
"Rats."
Bending over, I took a closer look at the welcome mat. It had rained some lately and there was still dried mud towards the center of the mat. I brushed it off and gently laid the package down, quickly saying a 12-year old's prayer. I took one more look down the street and ran across the yard, jumped on my bike and sped off.
It was just a matter of time now, I thought. I smiled and imagined the years we would spend together, what our children might look like and how we'd look together when we were eighty. "Beautiful," I said as I pumped hard to get back up the hill to my house, a huge smile crossing my lips.
That matter of time would take less than two days.
Coming soon - Conclusion
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