Pulling into the parking lot tonight there was a beauteous sight to behold: some worker men were just putting the finishing touches on a large patch of wet, gleaming cement.
"Ohhhhhhh...." I whispered, as Joey pulled into the parking spot.
"No." He said.
"Yes." I said. Then, "When do you think they'll be done?"
"When you're in bed. Asleep." Sometimes Joey has no sense of adventure.
An hour later, after we had finished dinner I suddenly remembered the wet cement. I ran over to the window and peeked out.
"They're gone!" I crowed. "Come on!"
"No." Joey said. "I am not party to this." He was trying not to smile.
"Fine. Loser." I said, and ran out the door. I made it to the bottom of the steps before I realized I needed a screwdriver to write with, so I ran back up the stairs.
"I need a screwdriver!" I panted, fully expecting Joey to say Absolutely Not With My Tools, but instead he said, "Phillips or regular?"
"Whichever one is not flat," I replied. I can never remember which is which.
He handed me whichever one is not flat and I walked (slowly, since I had a screwdriver) down the stairs and headed out toward the parking lot. As I rounded the corner I heard some not discreet flip-flop flapping behind me.
I knew it, he was following me.
I stood in place, hands on hips, glaring at the bush Joey was hiding behind. A few minutes later he popped his head up and saw me standing there. He wilted. "You knew I was there?"
"Of course. You were super loud." I said, smugly.
With this fresh victory notch on my belt (I only have about 5 to date), I pranced off toward the parking lot. Joey followed at a safe distance, hoping that no one would assume he was connected with me in any way.
I crouched down at the nearest corner of fresh cement and began my lifelong dream: writing in fresh concrete in a public place. (Young children, do not try this at home. Or anywhere really. Your mom will kill me.)
Since my Iowa State days I have always wanted to make foot prints in wet cement. (Actually back then I just wanted to sit down in the wet cement really hard and leave a bum impression. Obviously I have matured a lot in the past seven years.)
Happily I etched "Jenna loves Joey" into the cement. I felt as though I had truly done a beautiful job. Joey had snuck up behind me and was covertly taking pictures on his cell phone. (See, he pretends he's horrified but he's really just jealous that it wasn't his idea first.)
"Should I put the date?" I asked, looking up at him.
He was still pretending like he didn't know who I was. "Yeahsurewhatever," he mumbled.
I scratched "8-14-07" by the heart. Today happens to be our 27 month anniversary, in case anyone was curious.
"I dare you to take your shoes off and go run across the entire wet cement." I said to Joey.
"No." He's such a wet blanket sometimes.
"Why not!"
"Because I'm not like you." Yes he is, he just doesn't want to admit it.
"Ok, fine. That's lame. Dare me!"
"No. You don't need anyone to dare you to do it." He said. I think "no" is his favorite word sometimes. Gosh.
"ARRRRRRG." I growled at him. I kicked off my flip flops and went under the "caution" tape.
I looked around to see if too many people were looking. The coast appeared clear. I rolled my pants up and took my first step onto the wet cement. It was disappointingly firm. I ran around really fast on it, from one side to the other.
I was leaving no footprints.
I began jumping up and down as hard as I possibly could. Still no footprints.
I ran over by where I'd written and, finally, I could see that the cement was wet enough that I was leaving toe marks. So I hopped around my words and left as many toe marks as I possibly could.
Pleased with my success, we headed into the house. We passed a man about my Pops' age who was grinning at us.
"Write something in that cement?" He asked.
"Sure did!" I crowed. I was immensely pleased with myself and Joey was too, I think. Even though he'd never admit it.
Now I'm going to have to get a new lifelong dream since I've achieved this one. I'm open to suggestions.
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2 comments:
Cute, Jenna...real cute! I felt like I was there! I think I was as nervous as Joey that the construction men would jump out from behind a truck and yell "get on outta here!" It's good that your sense of adventure (or misadventure) doesn't melt away with marriage to a someone who only says "no" but means "your'e so cute!" in his heart! :) Yay for the toeprints, the "jenna loves joey & date" - momentous for the 27 month anniversary, of course and you have my undying support (like that matters) :) Finally, kudos to you for fulfilling your lifelong dream!
Very nice story. I am replying after you have posted this story for a fair amount of time, which means you may not be expecting to read this response, or to receive a response. I just wanted to say, I have a handprint in wet cement at a car park where my grandmother used to live. I don't remember her or leaving the handprint, since my dad stuck my hand in the cement when I was a baby. I just remember seeing it once, when I was around 9 or 10 years old, and my dad told me the story. He never talked about his mum. I think her death was lonely and the block of flats were the most miserable place I had ever seen. My point though, is that, even though I have accomplished leaving an impression on cement, I think it is useful to wish to do it again and construct new memories. I have something else to say. A friend of mine was in a construction site. A builder handed him a large panel of plywood and said to him, "Just hold that right there!". He did, and the builder proceeded to pull down his jeans and relieve himself, from the rearend. The moral to the story, don't worry about leaving marks on the cement if its only builders watching - they've seen worse. I wish you all the best. James
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