You Said You’d Marry Me

There is an old saying that begins with “Out of the mouths of babes” that implies that children, despite their inexperience, can say insightful things.

Over forty years ago, during a warm, carefree summer, I learned a lesson in humility from an unlikely teacher – a seven-year-old girl.

Ah, summertime. Nubile young girls in bikinis and baseball. Lots of baseball. Maybe too much baseball and not enough girls.

I was sixteen, and unlike my friends, I didn’t have a girlfriend to moon over in my spare time. So I took a job at the pool front desk, checking people in to kill time until the next baseball game. It was simple enough. Check their passes, check their names, and get paid.

Then two precocious bull-in-a-China-shop seven-year-olds shattered the calm. Tanya Stevenson had striking blue eyes, jet-black hair, and the attitude and energy of a truck driver on thirty-six cups of coffee going full-tilt boogie down the freeway. Her Canadian cousin, Willa Nash, was blonde, polite, and smiley, and a servant to Tanya’s every whim.

Saying Tanya was disruptive is like saying the Beatles recorded a few nice songs. I quickly learned not to turn my back on her, or she’d kick me. She stole the pens, drew on my registration forms, and relished jumping up and down on the desk and shaking like a dog still wet from swimming. She demanded my attention, and when she didn’t get it, she’d run around my desk, quack like a duck, smack me on the arm, or tell anyone within earshot that I was her husband and that I was ignoring her. The whole time, Willa would stand quietly nearby, alternately shaking her head or smiling.

Tanya was often a whirling dervish of elbows, knees, and flying feet, but whenever I said, “That’s enough!” she would suddenly turn into a wide-eyed, compliant angel.

I decided to appeal to that part of her still-developing personality.

I offered her a deal – six dollars a week to be my assistant. She took the cash from the register to the main office, ran other errands for me, went to the snack bar to get my lunch (as long as she and Willa got ice cream), and occasionally even took messages to my teammate, who was working with the park’s grounds crew.

Realizing she was now a businesswoman, Tanya began to behave more like Willa (who was now spending her time with her new friends instead of gawking at us). The only problem now was that I forgot to tell Tanya she didn’t work for me twenty-four hours a day.

The first indication that the rest of the world was befuddled by our relationship came the day Tanya accompanied me to the front office to turn in the day’s cash. Debbie Detwiller, a classmate, was working there that summer as a bookkeeper. Debbie was intelligent, quiet, and a snob. But she was exceptionally pretty, and I’d tried in vain to get her to like me. She was the exact opposite of her younger sister, Melanie, who was bubbly and irreverent and hung on every word I said.

Debbie looked at Tanya, then at me in astonishment as if I’d broken several commandments. I guess in her mind, I had. Arching her eyebrows, she muttered, “Oh, Mike, dear God.” I knew what she was implying, and surprisingly, so did Tanya, who gave Debbie a grievous look, replying, “It’s not what you think!”

I earned a measure of vengeance a few years later when Melanie and I began dating.

***

We were playing a game against our arch-rivals, the Reds, at the park one night, and the score was tied 2-2 in the bottom of the ninth. The bases were loaded, and I came to the plate with the game squarely on my shoulders. As I stepped to the plate, I heard a high-pitched chorus of “Go Mike! Go Mike!” from behind the backstop. After taking ball one, I stepped out of the batter’s box. Surveying the stands, I hoped the cheers were coming from Brittany Grant and her friends. I had a mad crush on Brittany, and despite my being black and her being white (a taboo in the 70s), she showed some interest in me. Brittany’s blank expression and her girlfriend’s teasing whispers suggested they weren’t the ones cheering for me.

Tommy Flynn, the Reds’ catcher and a close friend, stood up, pulling his mask off.

“What the hell was that? Munchkins?” he asked.

I turned around, focusing on Tanya and Willa in their bathing suits. Fresh from the pool and still dripping wet, they jumped up and down, yelling my name.

Tommy Flynn shook his head. “Like ‘em young, eh, Mike?” he said loud enough for everyone to hear.

Brittany and her girlfriends sure heard what Tommy said. Pointing and laughing, they giggled, whispering among themselves.

I redeemed myself by hitting a single to right field to knock in the winning run. After getting high-fived by my teammates, I was greeted by Tanya and Willa. Tanya took one hand, and Willa took the other, still jumping up and down as I walked them to the snack bar for a celebratory soda. Brittany was already there with her girlfriends, whispering and guffawing, when I walked by them with Tanya and Willa in tow.

Brittany would never look at me again without laughing.

Ever perceptive, Tanya noticed how uncomfortable I was.

“Don’t worry, Mike. I’ll be your girl.”

“You shouldn’t say that. You’re too young.”

Grabbing my chin, she pulled my head up, looking straight at me with her vibrant blue eyes.

“Fine. When I get older, then,” she said earnestly.

“Yeah…Sure.”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

“Good. Then we can get married.”

Willa snickered. “That’s silly.”

“No, it’s not! Will you promise me we’ll get married?”

Tommy Flynn approached the table, most likely to congratulate me on getting the winning hit. He froze, his eyes widening. Tommy looked at me, then at Tanya, who took a deep pull off her Coke and belched like a full-grown man, sticking her tongue out at him.

“I don’t even wanna know what’s goin’ on here,” Tommy said. “Nice hit, Romeo.”

Shaking his head, Tommy walked away.

“Keep your voice down, Tanya.”

“Why? You ashamed of me?”

“No.”

“Yes, he is,” Willa chimed in.

“I know it’s because you’re Mister Baseball, and you’re trying to impress all the girls, and I’m just a little kid.”

I lied. “That’s not it.”

“Is it the black and white thing?”

“No.”

Tanya persisted. “Young and old?”

“No.”

“It’s because you’re embarrassing him,” Willa said.

“I know,” Tanya replied. “But I wanted him to say it, not you.”

I could feel Tommy, Brittany, and her girlfriends staring at us. Suddenly, I realized it didn’t matter. Tanya may have been seven, and she may have embarrassed me so badly I’d never recover, but the bottom line was that she was my friend and she was upset.

“Are you alright?”

“No, I’m not,” she said.

“So, what’s bothering you?”

“I’m leaving tomorrow.”

“She’s coming to my house for the rest of the summer,” Willa said.

“That’s nice. You’ll have fun in Canada.”

Tanya looked up at me, her blue eyes rimmed with tears.

“Please don’t ask me to hug you,” I whispered.

“Ew,” Tanya sniffled, cracking a smile. “I’m sad because when I leave, you’ll forget all about me.”

“Is that what this is about? You’ll be back next summer.”

Looking up from her soda, Willa said, “Nope. Next summer, she’ll be with me in Canada.”

“Then you’ll get together with that Brittany and forget about me,” Tanya lamented.

“I’ll never forget you.”

“Yes, you will.”

Before we got into a verbal ping-pong match, I found myself saying, “Yes, I will, and I’ll prove it. Go to the snack bar and get a piece of paper and a pen.”

Tanya streaked off. Seconds later, I heard a guy at the snack bar yell, “Hey! You stole my pen! Come back with that, you little brat!”

Tanya gave me the paper and a fancy pen. Inspired, I scribbled out a message and handed it to her.

Dear Tanya:

I had a great time with you this summer. You were a great assistant. I’ll never forget you. I promise that when we get older, we’ll get married.

Your friend,

Michael Jefferson

Tanya must’ve read the letter a dozen times before Willa said, “Stop, you’re killing me!” It was worth it to see Tanya smile again.

Folding it carefully, she said, “I’ll keep this forever and ever!”

***

The following summer passed while Tanya was in Canada. I’ll admit I occasionally thought about Tanya, especially after Tommy asked me where my cheerleaders were. I missed her chaos, innocence, laughter, and even her awkward crush on me. But Tanya was right. Another summer passed, then another, and I eventually forgot about her. She became a hazy memory, like Tommy Flynn and the guys I played baseball with.

I came home from college after my sophomore year, intent on playing softball and living the good life. Halfway through the season, I asked Chris Turner, one of Tommy’s best friends, why I wasn’t hearing his wisecracks anymore.

“Didn’t you hear, college boy? Tommy died in a car accident last winter.”

The news hit me harder than a ninety-mile-an-hour fastball. After a night of fair to moderate drinking, Tommy agreed to give Robbie Montrose a ride home. Robbie was a well-known troublemaker whom most of us gave a wide berth. It was snowing, and apparently Robbie challenged Tommy to bury the speedometer. Tommy hit a patch of ice, and the car rolled over a few times, landing on its roof. Tommy was pinned but still alive. Untouched, Robbie, who had warrants out for his arrest, deserted Tommy. By the time EMS arrived, Tommy was taking his last breath.

Justice for Tommy would come two years later in Tennessee. Still on the run from the police, Robbie tried to cross a highway and was flattened by a tractor-trailer truck.

***

When I was thirty-five and none the wiser about women, I went into one of the local watering holes with my friend, Dustin, ostensibly to meet Ms. Right or Ms. Right Now. After three quick failures at verbal seduction, I knew it wasn’t my night. I decided to focus on my vodka tonic while Dustin kept a vigil on the ladies.

Dustin soon turned to me, saying, “Mike, some chick is checking you out.”

“Where?” I asked, my head swiveling on my shoulders like a gun turret.

“Three o’clock.”

I turned toward the back of the room.

“The other three o’clock.”

“Just give it to me straight, will you?”

“To your right. Towards the front door.”

I looked up to see at least a dozen girls crammed into a corner, interspersed with a dozen guys. None of the women seemed to be the slightest bit interested in me.

I figured Dustin was having some fun at my expense. I soon went back to staring at my drink.

“She’s doing it again,” he said a few moments later.

“Yeah, right.”

“I’m serious,” Dustin said. “There’s a gal over there practically staring a hole through you.”

“Okay, which one?”

“Brunette. Drop dead gorgeous.”

I looked into the corner. All the girls were brunettes. They were looking at other guys, watching the TV, or gossiping, but none of them were looking at me.

“Cut it out, Dustin.”

A few seconds later, Dustin pulled on my shoulder.

“What now?”

“She’s coming this way, man!”

I looked up. A stunning, generously built brunette in a short black dress was indeed walking toward us. In one deft motion, she opened her purse, pulling something out.

“YOU PROMISED YOU’D MARRY ME!”

Dustin did a perfect spit take across the bar. “Oh man, Mike, you finally got one pregnant.”

Assuming Dustin was right, I took a long swig off my drink.

“I’m… I’m sorry, Miss… Do I know you?”

“You bet you do! You said you’d marry me!”

There was something familiar about her stunning blue eyes.

“Tanya!”

Her blue eyes sparkled as she hugged me.

She showed me what she had in her hand.

It was my note. It was dog-eared, tapped in places where the folds had been, and yellow along the edges.

“I can’t believe you kept this!”

“Why not? You were my first crush.”

We quickly covered the past sixteen years. Tanya was now a teacher, dealing with brats as wild as she’d been as a kid.

Dustin rolled his eyes throughout our walk down memory lane. When Tanya excused herself, Dustin wasted no time in expressing his opinion.

“She’s either putting you on, setting you up, or she’s just plain crazy. Nobody keeps a letter for that long.”

“C’mon, we’ve both got pictures of us when we were in Little League.”

“Yeah, but we don’t carry them around with us, capisce?”

I considered but never gave in to Dustin’s concerns. I was too flattered, too smitten. Here was a girl who came into the relationship already in love with me, worshipping me. What could go wrong?

***

Tanya and I enjoyed three months of laughter and pleasant memories. When I kissed her for the first time (later that first night), she practically jumped up and down, just like she did when she was a little girl. Some might have found it weird. I was already hooked, so I found it endearing.

Tanya got a better job. Instead of thirty minutes, three hours now separated us. Instead of seeing each other every day, we saw each other only on weekends, and even then, teacher conferences, softball, overtime, or family and friends got in the way.

The laughter slowly turned to frustration. She wasn’t the rambunctious, rebellious little hellion I remembered, and I was no longer her invincible hero. I was just like all the other men she knew – flawed.

Finally, one weekend, I forgot to call her, and she forgot to call back to complain.

***

When I bumped into her fifteen years later at a bank, she was an Assistant Principal, married to a husband who neglected her, and she had two grown daughters - one of whom bore a striking resemblance to her.

“Do you still have that letter I wrote you?”

Tanya smiled meekly. Her watery blue eyes sparkled for a moment when our eyes met.

“No, I lost it during one of our moves, not long after I met my husband, Terry. He reminds me a bit of you. He’s a softball nut, just like you. Hey, you still owe me five bucks from that last week I worked for you!”

I took a long look at Tanya as we parted, knowing it would be the last time I’d ever see her. Time and two kids had turned a hard-bodied pin-up into a mushy mom. Yet there was a calm in her dull blue eyes that made me wish I’d been there through morning sickness, mortgages, and the birth of those kids.

Moral of the story:

You can’t be a hero forever. Embrace what you are, not what you were.