Danielle by NT Franklin
Danielle was the girl of my dreams. Class president and head cheerleader, she was the most popular girl in the high school. I hung out in auto shop. I did auto shop very well, but it wasn’t Calculus or French IV. It didn’t matter to me; I still asked her out.
To my surprise, she said yes. Pizza and a movie on Saturday night. I washed my car every night that week waiting for Saturday. That Friday I was devastated when she saw me and didn’t smile. “I can’t go out with you. My Dad won’t let me.”
Her father owned the mill that was the biggest employer in town. I never had a Dad. My mom was a secretary there once but had sorted mail for the Post Office for more than 15 years. Wrong side of the tracks. Too poor. Not good enough for her. So he thought. The tears in her eyes told me I still had a chance.
Early summer after graduation, I came up on a car on the side of a country road with a flat tire. And there she was. Danielle. Damsel in distress. I had the tire changed in less than ten minutes. As I finished, I said, “I’ll be at the park by the lake tonight after 8.” That’s how it started.
The third Saturday after that she didn’t show, but her Daddy did. Sitting in my front seat, he looked me in the eyes and said, “You can’t see my daughter.”
Once I aired my objections, he repeated, “You can’t see my daughter.” Then added, “Who do you think your father is, son?”
* * * * THE END * * * *
Copyright NT Franklin 2017