Growing Pains

Chapter One

Kiki

Summer 1984

It is the summer of 1984. I am young, innocent, naïve and madly in love with Darren Thomas, and I just turned sweet sixteen. God, he is gorgeous. I have the opportunity to see Darren every Saturday at The Rink, a local skating place on the southwest side of Chicago. Just watching him skate makes goose bumps appear all over my body. I doubt Darren knows I exist, but his friend, Eric, is always asking me to couple skate. I just can’t see myself with him. Sure, he’s a nice guy, just not my type. Darren Thomas is my type. Eric patiently listens to me talk about Darren, Darren is so cute. One day Darren will be my husband. Mrs. Kiki Thomas. Darren, Darren, Darren. Sigh! Darren is a year older than I and very mature for his age. Darren appears to be calm, cool and confident. I, on the other hand, have always been a bit shy and not so confident.

Have you seen him? I ask Eric, looking down at my skates, making sure I don’t have any scuffmarks on them. I hate the long black marks on my skates; I can’t look cute with scuffmarks. Suddenly, I feel the need to get new ones. My current skates are white, but black would probably hide the scuffmarks a lot better.

He’s coming. It’s still early. While you wait on him, let’s skate. Eric patiently reassures me.

Um, I think I’ll sit this one out, but let me know when he gets here.

I’m holding up the wall and nervously switching my attention from Eric circling the rink to the front door. My jam blares through speakers suspended in corners of the building, Mtume’s Juicy Fruit. Girl, focus. Darren may come in while you’re trying to sing. It is my duty to stand here and hold up this wall until he arrives.

Mere minutes pass before I ask Eric what’s taking Darren so long. It’s one-thirty, where can he be? It’s almost time to leave. Oh God, please let him come, I am praying like it’s nobody’s business. Eric offers to check the DJ booth, thinking Darren may have slipped in. He walks to the booth, turns back to me, and shakes his head no.

He must think I am nuts, because all I do is talk about Darren. Darren this, Darren that, but who cares? I am in love. I skate for a while, keeping one eye on the door; Darren might show up at any minute, and I don’t want to miss him. Darren has the prettiest caramel brown skin with a small muscular build. Drop-dead gorgeous dimples and a smile that would make you slap your mother. He just happens to be bow-legged, and whenever I see him I think I have died and gone to heaven. Darren sometimes works as a disc jockey at The Rink. When Darren is mixing the records, I skate my very best, hoping and wishing he will notice me. I can do a mean Long Step. The Long Step consists of long strides where you kick your legs out; practice makes perfect after all.

My normal Saturday routine consists of dance and piano lessons in the morning with skating in the afternoon. I don’t have many friends; I am always teased. Kids taunt me and call me the spoiled little rich kid. I can’t help it my parents work hard and know how to save their money, so most of my activities are always solo. Several classmates are in my dance class, but I am not close to anyone. Piano lessons are boring, but my parents make me go every week, regardless of how much I protest. I long for the weekends, and subsequently after piano this is the only time I can dream and be myself with no competition, no teasing. I can be and do anything I want. For two years, I have been coming to The Rink to rid myself of the everyday bull I get from my peers. Although, I will admit, I am not happy bringing my brother, Michael, along. Michael is nine going on twenty-five. Don’t get me wrong, I love my little brother, but he can be a real pain in the you-know-what at times.

Skating has pretty much become my favorite thing to do. I learned to do the Crazy Legs, the Shuffle, and how to skate backwards. Gliding across the hardwood skate floor is like being on cloud nine. I have found something I can do without being ridiculed, and even though I’m not as talented as Darren, I can hold my own. I am amazed at the skating moves Darren can perform. The best one is The Godfather -- it’s awesome to see a group of people all doing the same move at the same time. Eric, Darren and a few of the other regulars at The Rink are expert synchronized skaters (in my refined sixteen-year-old opinion.) Now, all I need to do is get Darren to notice me. I try stuffing my bra with tissue, wearing makeup and begging my parents for new clothes; If you can think of it, I have tried it.

Myra, Darren’s best friend, and I hang out sometimes. Myra and I met at The Rink a few months ago when she fell down while skating backwards. I stopped to make sure she hadn’t hurt herself. We’ve been inseparable ever since. It’s not unusual for me to ask her tons of questions about Darren; if he has a girlfriend, if he even knows I exist, and where he hangs out.

One day while Myra and I are sharing a Chicago-style polish sausage loaded with onions, mustard and relish, she tells me I should lay it all on the line. Maybe you should go up to him and let him know how you feel, she says, her mouth full of polish sausage.

Sure, I’ll walk up to him and tell him I want to have his children. That should go well. We laugh. Can you imagine the look on his face? He’ll probably start running away from me, or better yet, call the cops, I tell her, and we laugh some more.

Seriously, start a conversation with him. See what he’s about, and you probably won’t even like him once he opens his mouth.

Uh, what’s not to like? When Darren walks into a room, all heads turn in his direction and to those sexy bowed legs. He’s perfect, and you can help me get him. I smile in anticipation of her collaboration on this project.

Whatever. You should make your move soon, before someone else does. She shrugs.

I want to be like her. For starters, no one picks on her. She’s smart and the only girl at The Rink who skates better than I do. Watching Myra skate and socialize makes me realize how I want people to see me. I want to be confident, beautiful, and extremely graceful. I imagine I’m Myra; I try walking, talking and looking like her. There is an air about her that makes people stop and stare. She’s beautiful, with long layered brunette hair. I have what the old folks call bad hair, and they say my hair will commit a crime if given the chance. Myra is striking, even at just five feet tall, plus she’s the same age as Darren and has the most adorable figure. I, on the other hand, am gawky. Tall, skinny, knock-kneed and a mouth full of metal. The only thing I have going for me is my brain, but Darren can’t see that if I don’t talk to him. The kids at school tease me when I ace a test. If no one else understands a lesson, every head turns my way. I often pretend not to notice. I’ll keep to myself, thank you very much.

For months, I watch Darren and wonder what it would be like to be his girlfriend. I have never even kissed a boy before. No one seems to notice me. I’m beginning to think – it might be time to give up my quest of ever finding a boyfriend. I daydream a lot about Darren, but it’s beginning to take a toll on my schoolwork and my life. My parents probably think I’m on drugs; I’m always sitting in my room with the door closed, never having a real conversation besides saying hi and bye.

A James Brown song thumps out of the speakers. Oh, yeah, time to get my groove on, I think. As soon as I stand up to walk onto the skate floor, someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around expecting to see Eric grinning ear to ear and hoping I will couple skate with him. The face I see makes me nearly wet my pants in panic.

Hi, want to skate? Darren asks with the most boyish smile.

I must be dreaming. I silently beg for somebody to pinch me quickly before I faint. I nod, and there I am, skating with Darren. Let me tell you, the boy can skate! His body glides across the floor. After the initial shock wears off, I try to find Myra in the crowd as Darren and I circle the rink side by side. Finally, I see her giving me the thumbs-up. I must have the biggest grin on my face.

So, what’s your name? Darren glances at me with his perfectly symmetrical brown eyes.

Umm, Kiki. He probably thinks I’m stupid; I can’t seem to get my words out. There’s so much I want to say. Do you have a girlfriend? I want to have your children. No, that’s probably too bold.

I always see you talking to Eric, he says.

Oh no, he thinks Eric and I have something going.

... he told me you have a crush on me. Darren is smiling and still talking and skating, being pretty cool about it.

Did he? Eric has a big mouth.

Hey, no big deal. I think you’re kinda cute. Well, I’ve been checking you out, and I was thinking maybe you would like to go out sometime?

Shit, I am not allowed to go on dates. I am probably the only sixteen-year-old alive who has never gone out to the movies with a boy. Sure! Just let me know when. I can barely get the words out. He probably thinks I have a speech problem by now.

Really? You’ll go out with me? He asks in disbelief. Wait, why is he surprised? Has he not seen me watch his every move at The Rink?

"Yes! Is that surprising? Besides, I’ve been dying for you to ask me out."

Well, yeah, it is a little surprising. He pauses. We are both silent for a while. It seems like minutes rather than seconds until he asks, Kiki, can I have your number?

Right about then, I’m feeling more thankful than ever that I have my own private phone line.

Darren and I circle the rink several more times. As soon as One Nation Under a Groove by Funkadelic ends, I find Myra and give her all of the details. Can you imagine, Darren finally notices me and asks me out? It’s a miracle! I squeal inches from Myra’s ear. Where will we go? What should I wear? Shit, how do I tell my parents that I’m going on a date? Myra says to take it one step at a time and cross the what-to-tell-the-parents bridge when I get there. She’s right, but I can’t blow this. It’s a dream come true.

Chapter Two

Darren

Summer 1984

I finally got up the nerve to ask Kiki Jones out on a date. I’ve been watching her for a while. See, I Dee Jay at The Rink and I can see everything and everyone. Kiki’s legs are like matchsticks that look like she will catch on fire while doing the Crazy Legs.

I often see her talking to my buddy Eric, but she always seems preoccupied.

Hey, Eric, who’s the babe you are always talking to.

Who? What babe? He asks jokingly. Oh, that’s Kiki. Isn’t she a hottie?

Yes, she sure is. Are you hitting that? I didn’t mean to be blunt, but I want to see if I had a chance.

Naw, man, but I’m trying. Eric quickly changes the subject and didn’t offer up any more information about Kiki, so I didn’t push the issue.

I’ve rehearsed a million times what I would say to her. Should I ask her to couple skate or wait until I see her leaving to strike up a conversation? I thought about asking my best friend, Myra, but I don’t want to seem like an amateur when it comes to talking to girls. When it comes to talking to girls, (I’m not usually nervous) but there’s something special about her that makes me lose focus.

It takes a while for me to work up my nerve to ask her out. Typically, I’m not shy, but when I was skating around with Kiki, for some reason I stumble on my words. A pretty girl like that has to be taken; if she isn’t, I assume she is probably stuck up. You can’t imagine my surprise when she says yes to going out with me. I’m the happiest guy in Chicago, or at least I think so. Prince is coming to the big screen, and what better opportunity for me to ask her out. Of course, I don’t know if she likes Prince; but if she doesn’t, she should. I’ll help her out, right? I want this date to be a good one. It’s not every day I get a chance like this.

I decide to get some new clothes for our date. I’ve been out with girls before, but this one, well, I’m nervous about going out with Kiki. I’ve never gone out with a girl like her before. There’s something about her, and I want to make sure I get a chance for more than just one date. Besides, I need some new clothes anyway.

Chapter Three

Kiki

Summer 1984

The phone rings the following week at 8:00 p.m. I answer, hoping and praying it is Darren.

Hello? Please God, let this be Darren. I may drop the phone from shaking so much.

Hi, it’s Darren Thomas. I hope it’s not too late to call? His voice is smooth, almost like silk. Not too deep, but the type of voice you can listen to all day long. It’s almost like listening to someone with a foreign accent. You can care less what they are saying; you just want to hear them speak.

No. So, what’s up? My heart is pounding with excitement, but I try to play it cool.

Immediately he peppers me with questions, When would you like to go out? What do you like to do? Want to see a movie? Go to dinner?

Gee, can he ask any more questions that I can’t answer? I have to think fast before he loses interest.

Maybe, we can do something on Saturday. I’m open to any ideas. I manage to say.

"Have you seen Purple Rain or Back to the Future?"

No, but I hear they’re both good.

I was waiting for someone special to take. Do you want to go?

To both of them? and I know it was a stupid thing to say as it comes out.

He laughs, saying Maybe, but not at the same time.

Heck yes, I want to go! Didn’t we establish this at The Rink last week? Darren and I talk about Prince and his Let’s Go Crazy new release. We start to sing the lyrics, and I can honestly admit I’m not the best singer. Darren’s singing won’t win any awards, but I think it’s sweet that he’s singing in my ear. In unison we shout, Let’s go crazy!

We decide to see Purple Rain at the Chicago Theatre, my first official date. We linger on the phone a little longer, and I find out he has just graduated from one of the top magnet high schools in Chicago, Whitney Young. He informs me he was at the top of his class and will attend Northwestern this fall.

Where do you go? Darren asks.

Unity Catholic. I graduate next spring. Unity Catholic, (one of the few parochial schools still in existence), is on Chicago’s south side.

Ahh, a Catholic school girl. You aren’t stuck up…are you? He laughs.

Ha, me stuck up, that’s funny. Guess you will have to get to know me better and find out. I wonder why he thinks Catholic school kids are stuck up.

Well, I want to get to know you better, he says, and I think I am melting.

We end our conversation with the promise to see each other on Saturday. I asked Darren to pick me up at Myra’s house because we are going shopping. I fail to mention that I’m not allowed to go on dates. I’m so excited that I start chanting, It’s my birthday! It’s my birthday! Oh yeah. Throw your hand ups. Okay, so maybe it isn’t my actual birthday, but it sure feels like it.

Saturday can’t come fast enough; I am more than ready for our date. I have money saved up from babysitting Michael and a few of the neighborhood kids, so I go to Evergreen Plaza and buy the cutest outfit. A pair of Gloria Vanderbilt straight-leg acid washed jeans with a neatly ironed pink Izod. To top it off, I wear a clear Swatch watch and my dad’s argyle sweater. I like to wear my clothes big, and my dad’s sweater is the perfect piece to finish the outfit. At that moment, modeling the outfit in front of the mirror, I think I am the cutest girl in the Midwest. Luckily for me, Fridays are when I get my hair done at the beauty shop. To keep from arousing their suspicion on Friday afternoon, I tell my parents I am going over to Myra’s house to spend the night and will get a ride home Saturday evening with a friend of ours. I sure can’t tell them I am going on a date.

Myra, how do I look? Am I matching? How does my hair look? I model my outfit in front of her, turning in circles, praying I don’t look like a clown.

Girl, you are too cute. Stop worrying. Here, put these earrings on. Myra hands me two large, gold hoop earrings. Everyone’s wearing large hoops these days. They are the perfect accessory to finish off my outfit.

On Saturday, Darren arrives at Myra’s house looking and smelling like lavender, sandalwood, and citrus. He wears khaki pants and a green Izod shirt. He even has a penny in his loafers. We look like two preppy nerds.

Hi, Myra. Kiki. Kiki, I like your outfit. Are you ready to go?

Yes, I’m ready. Are you driving, or are we taking the CTA? The CTA is Chicago’s public transportation. I ride the CTA everywhere so it doesn’t matter to me if we drive or ride the bus.

Hmm, if you don’t mind, let’s take the bus. Parking in downtown Chicago will be crazy on a Saturday. It’s one o’clock now; the movie doesn’t start until 3:30, so we have plenty of time.

We decide to grab a quick bite to eat at the McDonald’s on Randolph Street before going to the movies, because it’s - as my mom would say - a hop, skip and jump from the Chicago Theatre.

The Chicago Theatre is huge, and the lines are long. After getting popcorn, two Pepsis and Raisinets, we grab two seats near the front of the theater. I feel like I’ve never seen so many people. It’s so crowded; the theater is sold out. Purple Rain has just come out, and everyone wants to see Prince on the big screen. Halfway through the movie, Darren boldly and with great confidence puts his arm around me. I am grinning from ear to ear. I know in that moment what heaven feels like. After the movie, Darren gently reaches for my hand, guiding me through the people who are pushing and rushing to get out, to get back to their homes and end their evenings early. I wonder why they are in a hurry. I don’t want the evening to end now. I didn’t pay attention to much of the movie, but I do notice Darren has the strongest hands.

On the bus ride to Myra’s house, we talk about the movie, which actually helps me remember some of the scenes. I swear I was on another planet during the movie. All I can think about is sitting next to Darren and our hands touching as we reach for popcorn. The details I do remember will be written in my diary when I get home, that’s for sure. The night is still early so we decide to play Bid Whist with Myra’s mom and her boyfriend before Darren drives me home.

"You youngsters don’t know a thing about Bid Whist. Sit down, and let the grown folks show you a thing or two," Myra’s mom says. She is always playing Bid Whist. I’m guessing this is the hip thing among old folks.

I don’t know how to play. I can watch you guys, I say; as I figure I can look at everyone else’s hand and learn from them.

"You don’t know how to play Bid Whist?" Darren questions as if it’s an unspoken rule that all black people should know how to play.

Uh, no. I don’t…should I? In my head, I’m thinking I have to learn this if I’m going to date him.

Don’t worry. Sit next to me, and I’ll teach you.

You might want to get some lessons yourself, young man. What are you bidding? C’mon we ain’t got all day to be teaching nobody how to play, Myra’s mom points out. Myra and Darren are partners, but watching Myra’s mom slap the cards down on the table and grab up books like she just won a big trophy is hilarious.

After Darren and Myra lose three games, they call it quits. Darren explains the game as he drives me