First Date--Epilogue

4247 Maplewood Dr.

Sunday May 5, 2002

9:00 AM

“You’re definitely the one for me, Jenna,” Spiderman told her as he brushed a lock of hair from her eyes. He held her in his arms as they balanced precariously atop the Washington Monument. Part of Jenna wanted to ask him what they were doing there, but she didn’t suppose it really mattered.  She risked a glance down at the ground far below—the tiny people milling around; staring up at them.  Like little tiny ants. 

‘I should be scared—I should be terrified.’ But held in Spiderman’s arms, all Jenna felt was safe.

“And you’re the only one for me,” she replied. Moving the bottom part of his mask she stared at the familiar mouth—the slightly crooked smile—even without removing the rest she knew.

“The only one,” Jenna repeated as her lips met Chris’ own in a soft, deep kiss that seemed to last forever until—

“Did you know,” his soft breath whispered against her earlobe, “that there’s something running down your leg?”

What the—Jenna opened her eyes—staring up at a familiar ceiling. Her bedroom—sunlight spilled in through the lacy curtains, making patterns on the opposite wall. Her clock read five minutes past nine—not bad for a Sunday.

What a weird dream, she thought as she sat up, wrapping her arms around her knees. Though actually it had been pretty romantic—at least up until the bit at the very end. Something running down her leg? What was that?

It wasn’t until she’d slid out of her bed—until she looked down at her sheets that she realized.

‘Oh my gosh.’

“Mom!” she called out.

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8:58 AM

“I’m sorry, Mrs. Stetson,” the man on the other end of the line replied. “But unless we have an actual phone number we can’t block it.”

“There must be something you can do,” Amanda said. “These calls come at all hours of the day and night.”

“Are they harassing? Obscene?” 

“Well no—not exactly,” Amanda hedged. “Whoever it is says nothing and then they just hang up.”

“Look, chances are it’s just a telemarketer,” the man told her. “They use those automatic dialers, and if there’s no one on the end of the line—”

“It’s not that,” Amanda interrupted. “I can hear someone there—I can hear them breathing.”

“Are you absolutely sure?”

Was she?  Amanda could’ve sworn she’d heard someone breathing, but now that she thought back had she really— “I’m pretty sure,” she replied finally. “I would say that I’m about eighty-percent certain that I heard someone.”

“Even if you did hear someone, ma’am, it could be a call that’s not getting through.”

She wasn’t getting through to him, Amanda thought as she rubbed her forehead with her fingertips. “The same type of call? All the time?”

“Ma’am if you really think you’re being harassed maybe you need to call the police.” 

She couldn’t do that—not even with the Agency.  As annoying as they were, the calls wasn’t technically harassment—at least not yet. “Isn’t there any way to make them stop?”

“Well—” the man hesitated.  “It’s possible to put anonymous call rejection on your line—that would stop any calls that don’t list their number or announce themselves.” 

“How would that work, exactly?” 

“Anyone calling in and blocking their number will get a message stating that you do not accept anonymous calls.  It is an extra ten dollars added to your bill, but we could do that for you today.”

An extra ten dollars a month—that would add up to an extra hundred and twenty dollars a year. Would it really be worth it to get rid of these calls?

Maybe she was making a mountain out of a molehill.

“Ma’am?”  the man said. “Is that what you’d like to do?”

“Let me think about it and get back to you.”  Amanda hung up the phone as Lee came into the kitchen.

“So what did they have to say?” he asked her.

“They could put a service on our line that rejects anonymous calls,” she told him. “The thing is, it would be an extra ten dollars each month. I said that we’d think about it.”

“Yeah, that would add up,” Lee agreed, his hazel eyes concerned, looking deep into her own. “But still, if they’re really bothering you—”

“I wouldn’t say they’re really bothering me,” Amanda said. “And it probably is just a telemarketer, like he said.”

“Probably.”

“But they come so often, though—and at such strange hours—” she broke off, unsure of what she was trying to say.

“Listen,” Lee said. “If the calls continue or get worse we’ll get that service.  Okay? We’ll deal with it.”

Before Amanda could reply the phone rang. 

“Mom!”  Jenna’s voice floated downstairs. Torn, Amanda hesitated.

“Right on cue, huh?” Lee said. “You go see Jenna—I’ll answer the phone.”

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9:30 AM

“Jenna?”  Amanda knocked on the bathroom door. “Is there anything else you need? “ Silence. She could hear Jenna moving around. “Maybe something that I can help you with?”  

Still no reply. Amanda prayed that she hadn’t said the wrong thing—she remembered how sensitive girls could be at that age.

The door creaked as it slowly opened. Jenna stood there, wearing one of Amanda’s nightgowns, her face pale and tearstained. She thrust the box of tampons at Amanda.

“I can’t get it in,” she said. “I keep trying but it hurts.”

“Oh, sweetheart.” Taking the box, Amanda put her arm around her as she led Jenna down the hallway to her bedroom.  Together they sat on the edge of the bed. Amanda placed the box aside as she took Jenna’s hands into her own. “Why don’t you stick with just the pads for now? No one says you have to rush into tampons right away.” 

“But Lisa wears tampons and a pad—she says it’s extra protection,” Jenna told her. “And you can’t go swimming with a pad, can you? What’ll I do this summer?”

“You have quite a few months before you have to worry about summer,” Amanda reminded her.

“But I’ll still feel like a baby if I can’t wear one,” Jenna’s voice trembled. “Or if I can’t go to the pool because I have my stupid period.” 

“In the first place, you’re not a baby,” Amanda told her.  “And secondly everyone’s body is different.  But if you still want tampons we can always get a smaller size—those might be more comfortable for you.”

“Different sizes?”  Jenna shook her head reflexively. “They never mentioned that in health class. People won’t be able to tell when I have a pad on, will they?”

“No, those are ultra-thin pads,” Amanda assured her. “No one will see.”

“That’s good.”  For a few moments Jenna fell silent, staring down at their entwined hands. 

“How do you feel about all this now?” Amanda asked.

“Crampy—and I guess kind of strange, if that makes sense,” Jenna replied.  “I mean I wanted to get this—my period—so bad.  And now that I have it I kind of wonder why I wanted it in the first place.”

“Well it means that you’re growing up,” Amanda said. “You’re starting to become a woman, and that’s not a bad thing.”

“And one day I’ll be able to have a baby, right?”

“Yes—one day when you’re ready. That’s what your body is getting itself ready for.”

“They told us that, but whole thing’s still—” Jenna tried to makes some sort of sense—to find words for the feelings that washed over her. “It’s still weird.”

“I know, sweetheart.”

“Mom? We’re not, you know, going to celebrate, are we?”  Jenna said. “Christy said that her Mom took her out for dinner and told everyone that her little girl was a woman now—even the waiter. I think I’d die if that happened to me.”

“No, we won’t do anything like that—I promise.” As she spoke, Amanda smoothed Jenna’s hair. “Why don’t you lie down in here for a little bit while I wash your sheets? I’ll bring you some Advil and a heating pad and we can talk some more if you like—all right?”

Jenna nodded, wrapping her arms around her tightly. “Thanks, Mom.”

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“How’s Jenna?”  Lee asked as Amanda came downstairs and into the kitchen.  He sat at the table, coffee in hand, crossword puzzle in the other. “Everything’s all right, I hope.”

“Everything’s just fine,” Amanda opened the cabinet to the right of the sink and retrieved the bottle of Advil.  “Who was that on the phone?” 

“Not your friendly neighborhood telemarketer,” Lee said.  “It was Chris—he wants Jenna to call him back when she gets a chance.” 

“I’ll make sure to tell her.” 

“He said he tried to reach her cell but it was turned off,” Lee said.  “I swear he calls her all the time.”

“Well that’s what boyfriends do.”

“Boyfriend—yeah,” Lee tried to sound casual even  as his insides seemed to clench—he stared down at the crossword. “By the way, do you remember the name of the Addams family cousin—the hairy one?”

“Cousin Itt,” Amanda replied. “With two t’s.”

“Got it.”  Lee penciled in the answer.  He watched as Amanda grabbed a clean glass from the dish drainer, filling it with water.   Water and Advil—

“Have a headache?”  He asked her. 

“No, no headache,” Amanda replied.  “By the way, do you know where the heating pad is?”

“In the hall closet, last time I checked.”  Water, Advil—now a heating pad. “Are you in pain?”

“No, I’m not in pain.”

“Well is something wrong?  Something wrong with Jenna?” 

“I can honestly say that there’s absolutely nothing wrong with Jenna. Everything’s perfectly normal.” 

Perfectly normal—at the moment his wife was being more cryptic than the puzzle that lay in front of him.   Putting both the puzzle and the coffee down Lee rose from the table.

“Amanda, if everything’s so normal, then what’s up with the heating pad and the Advil? Just tell me.”  He pleaded. “Whatever it is, I can handle it.”

“I’ll give you a clue.”  A small smile spread across his wife’s lips—she was positively enjoying this. “Just like a crossword. It happens about once a month and it comes at the end of sentence.”

“A-man-da—”

“I’ll be upstairs if you need me.” 

“Wait—I don’t—” but by that time she was already gone.  What had she meant?  Happens about once a month—comes at the end of the sentence—

That was when it hit him—exactly what she’d meant—the reason behind the Advil and the heating pad.  It all made sense. Slowly Lee sank back down into his chair, his legs unable to support him.

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8:42 PM

Lee stood in the doorway of her bedroom, watching Jenna as she slept, her head half-under the covers. One arm peeked out from the bedspread, loosely draped over her scarecrow doll. Had it really been over seven years since he’d bought it for her?  It seemed like only yesterday. He remembered picking it up from the shelf, brushing off the dust—fingers tracing the painted features.

“I’m taking you home, buddy.’

She’d had the flu on Christmas day—five years old—he had thought the doll might give her some comfort. He had no inkling back then of how important that doll would become in her life—in all their lives.  He listened to the sound of Jenna’s soft, regular breathing—her body relaxed and peaceful. 

‘My little girl.’  Except she wasn’t, was she?  True, she would always be his child, but she wasn’t a little girl—not really—not anymore.  Becoming a woman— the thought brought a lump to his throat—he swallowed hard.

“Good night, munchkin,” he whispered. “I love you.”

Leaving the doorway he went down the hall to his and Amanda’s bedroom.  His wife sat on the bed, reading glasses on and book in hand.

“How is she?” she asked.

“Fine.”  He sat down on the edge of the bed. “She’s sound asleep.”

“Well it’s been a long day for her.”  Amanda took her glasses off, placing them and the book on the bedside table.  “How are you doing?”

How was he doing?  “All right,” he said finally. “I guess—I don’t know.” 

“It’s a lot to get used to.”

“You could say that, yeah,” Lee replied. “She’s not a little girl anymore, Amanda. And part of me knows I have to adjust to that, but still I see all these changes happening all at once and it just—” he sighed in frustration. “Sorry, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“Do the changes bother you?” Amanda asked.

Lee shook his head. “It’s not that. When she was little I could fix almost anything, you know?  A scraped knee—a flat tire on her bike. She came to me with that stuff and I knew what to do.”  The words spilled out of him in a torrent.  “Even when she needed extra help, after the kidnapping—I could still be there.”

“You still can be there,” Amanda told him. “She still needs you.”

“Maybe, but I’m in alien territory here,” Lee said. “Dating, puberty, boys—how am I supposed to help her with that stuff when what I’d really like to is hold all of it back?”

“You can’t do that,” As she spoke, Amanda rubbed his back.  “But what you can do is give her your perspective on things—the kind of things I couldn’t tell her about.”

“I don’t know about that.”  The thought of even broaching some of those subjects with his daughter—it still terrified the hell out of him. “I mean, if I say the wrong thing—”

“Look at me,” Amanda said as Lee turned to face his wife. “You didn’t know what you were doing when you changed her first diaper, did you?”

“No, I didn’t know,” Lee still could recall that incident—all that duct tape. “But diapers are one thing—this is—”

“It’s the same thing,” Amanda told him firmly. “And you’ll learn—we’ll both learn. Agreed, Stetson?”

Lee smiled. “Yes ma’am.”  Their lips met as he lowered her onto the bed.

The End