This topic was chosen after overhearing freshmen nervously
talk about similar encounters, after talking with friends and peers, and after
seeing related issues discussed on numerous media programs. The journalistic
aspects come out in the following ways and with the following journalists
and/or literary authors in mind: The details depicted are deliberate and were
inspired by Truman Capote’s style of bringing light to what may not be obvious,
but may be relevant. A conscious decision was made to keep the names ambiguous
in gender to incorporate “universalism”, a technique Walt Whitman is known for,
which allows for to characters to be anyone, including you. The simple, but
direct sentence structure was used out of appreciation for Jack London’s style
of saying a lot with few words. The satire and explicit overtone was motivated
by Benjamin Franklin’s ability to delicately convey double meanings, and the
topic itself was chosen to provoke a smile, memories, because of related
situations, and thought, which was a skill mastered by Mark Twain. This fusion
of journalism and literature was composed into this piece to demonstrate the
style and method of literary journalism.
A Midsummer’s Afternoon Close Encounter
July the 11th was a summer afternoon like any other that summer. Mildly humid with a slight breeze that gives the skin immediate momentary relief from the heat of the day that still hangs in the air for another few hours. This heat drives people to retreat to a covered porch to sit on a swing, whose gentle steady motion adds to the breeze of relief, while sipping on a revitalizing beverage of choice. This heat is of the natural kind, unlike the internal heat felt by a particular couple.
Jamie sat on the couch waiting impatiently looking at the grandfather clock by the mantle, then at the watch sitting on
the coffee table, as if one or both were slow. This intense observance of time will not make time compromise from its
indifference to the human desire of wanting it to somehow speed up.
Not even furiously going over the “check list” could distract from hearing a car come to a slow then turn into
the familiar sound of the driveway rocks. As the brake was applied and the door opened then closed, Jamie rose, took a quick
glance around the room to make sure things were still in order, then proceeded to the door, stopping to take a last brief
look in the mirror in the foyer. The door opened as the doorbell rang, which startled both although this had been an
occurrence at least a hundred times before.
Jamie was confronted with a slight nervous grin that seemed to be as excited as scared or perhaps only uncertain.
The door was closed, but only after a quick look around at the houses, cars, windows, and yards to see if anyone had
noticed the arrival. If anyone had seen, a second thought would not have been given because everyone knew the
couple often spent time together at one of their residences. This was an uncommon occurrence for the couple though, who
now stood in an awkward silence in the foyer.
They walked to the couch in the same silence, sat on either ends, and looked at their feet. Pat looked at the
grandfather clock, 4:35 p.m. 4:37. 4:40. 4:41 and still not a word. Both thought the other was having second thoughts
and wanted desperately to say something, but what. Then they spoke together cutting the other off which led to them both
saying, “you first”. More silence. Jamie felt it was time to lighten the mood. This had never been so difficult, but then again they
had never been in this situation before.
Things were not going as smoothly as planned and the tension was growing. Then a great idea …music! The remote
had been placed on the arm of the couch “for convenience”. Jamie picked it up, looked at Pat, and smiled. Had Pat looked
close it would have been obvious the remote had never once sat on the arm of the couch for it was covered in dust and there
was a perfect outline on the top of the radio where it usually rested. Today it had use. Jamie had programmed the Romance
Channel, which was “guaranteed to relax, stimulate, and get you in the mood for love”. Unfortunately, the program process
had not been completed correctly and blaring heavy metal filled the room. Jamie jumped up as Pat covered pain stricken ears.
No music. Plan B. Pat placed down “the bag” in which the night would revolve around. Jamie stared at it as Pat
removed the wind blazer that was adding to the heat. Jamie remembered the candles. Candles would work, but when lit they
only gave them something else to stare at. Plus, how could the mood be set with the candles with the sun still up and the
curtains opened. Enough with the candles. Pat blew them out.
This was getting nowhere and fast. Pat decided to take control. Moving close gave the opportunity to kiss. Jamie was
not yet ready. Flowers, chocolate and we are not in the right place. The “check list” was not being followed, but
hey it appears not to be needed. Kissing…kissing…kissing. For some reason they were moving slower now to the next step
than usual. They both knew that is was because they had an actual finale they were trying to get to. This was taking forever.
It was Jamie’s turn for control. Removing a Levi’s shirt marked the next step, Pat smiled and followed suit. Back to
kissing. More intense kissing. Both pretending to be comfortable. Saved by the phone and fake sighs all around. Jamie assures
Pat the conversation will be brief, sprints to the kitchen, and runs into the corner of a table as whole trying to remain suave
leaving the room. Pat cannot make out the words, but is not concerned, because trying to find a “sexy, I’m ready” position
was the goal.
Jamie returns, takes the former position, and kissing continues. Hands begin to roam and the doorbell slaughters all
confidence on both ends. A Girl Scott. What the hell. If I wanted cookies I would have some in the house. If the neighbor’s
kid is sent away upset the situation will be more complicated. Three boxes bought and the girl leaves with the smile anyone
gives when they know they have conned you or interrupted something.
Jamie returns to find Pat has left the room. Noises upstairs tell Jamie the situation looks great. Skipping three stairs at a
time and Jamie is in the bedroom. Hold on. Running down stairs on the mission to take the phone off the hook, make sure the
door is locked, and a brief look in the mirror sends Jamie up the stairs again. This time four steps at a time. Mission
completed.
Confidence is back in both and now the pace picks up and even skips steps. Kissing, giggling, roaming, and staring at
each other only adds to the passion. This is it. The phone is not going to ring. The Girl Scout made $9 that on any other day
would have been impossible, and nothing could go wrong. Freedom to pursue, express, claim, indulge, and…what. The damn
bag is downstairs. This time Pat goes down as Jamie hits the pillow.
Pat picks up the bag and when it looks like nothing else could go wrong a car pulls up in the driveway. Pat freezes and
stands ready to die. Wrong house and Pat runs up stairs. That is it. Nothing else is going to get in the way. Not a flood, a fire,
or an act of God. Pat slams the door and realizes it is the wrong bag.