Love is sometimes fragile

No matter how sad a person is, they have to eat. Sixteen hours after cursing women, food and other things that people can't get enough of, Denton went to a corner grocery store and devoured a pineapple sundae, two peanut butter sandwiches, double chocolate laced with malted sugar, plus a bag of cookies. There was a girl in the store. He glanced at the girl as she sat down, glanced at her as she stood up, and glanced twice as he left. After paying the bill and leaving the grocery store, he headed north. It was a hundred and eighty degrees different from the direction he had intended to go. He wished the girl hadn't taken such a big step; he couldn't have made it all at once from a block away.

"Hey! You go this way too?" He said. He thought this stupid quote gave him a chance to ask again, "What do you think of so-and-so?" Or something quite interesting. This time this one said nothing, she just turned her head around, blinked her long eyelashes at him, and continued determinedly.

"If you get lost," he tried again, "I can tell you where you are; I've lived in this place for years."

The girl remained unmoved. He began to feel embarrassed, but not enough to teach him to back off.

"That's the Field House on the left," he said.

"It's been called Field House ever since Mr. Field bought it. Their daughters are the meticulous type, but their sons are oily. Now you're passing a 'wasteland,' as we call such places until someone builds a house on it. But don't look forward to it. If I were you, I wouldn't stop at a place like this."

The girl was not staying. She had a clear side profile and a playful nose with a slight tilt at the tip. Despite the closed door, Denton's ears tickled. His ears must have felt tingly whenever love bells were ringing.

"I don't know why the girls don't like me."

He cried out in his mind.

"I'm cured of the 'five o'clock blues', I bet--" It was a total wishful bet. The girl turned abruptly to the left, and Denton's words froze in mid-air. He sighed as he watched her figure disappear into a house that was both long and wide. But at least we know who she is. Her last name is probably Frigid, this old Griswold area is rented to the Frigid family. This comfort, though small, is after all that Denton needs. And the girl never looked back. At dinner that day, his mother said, "Denton, I'm glad you feel better about yourself, but you don't look it. One can't go without eating without showing hunger in one's countenance."

"Maybe he's in love again."

His father speculated.

"You and Margaret are back together?" Mother asked.

"Margaret!" Denton grunted. "That stupid bitch!"

"Denton!" Mother exclaimed.

"Youth is fickle!" Old Wentworth laid down the comment.

"I've got a new girlfriend now."

Denton announced recklessly.

"Really?" Mrs. Wentworth asked. "Who is it this time?"

"Miss Flings."

"Luckily it's a young lady," Mr. Wentworth said.

"What was her name?"

"She introduced herself by saying she was Miss Fliger."

"Wow? Then you call yourself Mr. Wentworth?" Father said.

"You don't know her name anyway," Mother said.

"Don't you?" Denton stood up solemnly.

"When you were my age, you probably didn't just make deep friends with people you'd just met!" He said unhappily. The next day, Denton borrowed a white facecloth suit from his father, dug a used tennis racket out of the attic, and wandered the streets. He paced so slowly that he had five guys honking their horns at him, three of them twice, because they had to go around. Finally, his patience took its toll. He practiced his backhand clap hard until she approached. Then Denton spoke, "Hello! I believe we've met before."

That encounter didn't impress her. Quickly she walked away again. Denton sat on a fire hydrant, then on the street paving stones, then on the ground again. Until the girl returned, he waited a total of forty minutes. Denton changed his posture this time.

"I'm sorry," he said humbly.

"I'm dull, but I just wanted to see you. My name is Denton - Denton. Wentworth. Your last name is Frigg, but as for the rest I don't know."

For a wonderful moment, Denton felt his whole body drenched in her blue, cold eyes. But soon, the eyes moved away as she stepped back. Denton had not spoken to Webb Hastings for weeks. Hastings, because they were having a bad time over a girl. Denton gathered up his pride and called Webb.

"All right?" He said.

"Come out for a Coke!" Webb had already drunk three of his Cokes until he got to the point of riffing.

"Do you know the girl who lives behind your house?" He asked carelessly.

"Which one?"

"The one who moved to the Griswold area."

"So what if I know her?"

Denton reddened, gripping the arms of his chair with both hands and sticking down a ball of gum. He struggled to keep a steady tone of voice.

"If you know her, maybe you can introduce me."

"You want to meet her?" Webb said provocatively.

"You're the big lover of this town, huh?" The man who had taken advantage of the location was so unbelievable. Before a formal round of fighting by the candy box, Denton was ruled out. However, Denton was not too angry, because Webb had also suffered him this kind of anger. Denton thought about other people who might be able to help. Most of his group of friends were out of town for the summer. So, reluctantly, he approached Jenny. Forrest - a girl with a mouthful of teeth and a giggle.

"Jenny," he said.

"I've always liked you."

Jenny giggled.

"Next time we go for a drive, I hope you'll come along. We'll need someone for the cooking duties then, so hopefully, we can get another girl to come. Do you have any new friends you can bring?" Jenny shook her head. Denton didn't care that she gave a negative answer. He then asked, "How about the girl who lives in the Griswold area?"

"Merlene. Frigidaire? She won't be there."

"Why?"

"She doesn't like you," Jenny giggled again. "She thinks you're milquetoast."

"Listen, Jenny!" He said with a serious look on his face.

"I'm not milquetoast. If it were during the semester, I'd have a way to prove I wasn't. She'd see me on the soccer team, the basketball team, and at student assemblies. Then she'd see how disciplined I am in life."

This time, to his relief, Jenny didn't smile like that. Instead, she frowned and said in a tone full of wisdom, "Once people get the wrong impression of others, it's hard to change their stereotypes. Merlene thinks you have no depth, and you should take the initiative to show something so that she understands your sincerity and goals."

For the first time in his life, Denton sincerely admired Jenny's wisdom. Earlier, he would have been quite impressed with her ability to calculate the quadratic and cube roots, although he could not see the point of doing so. Now he finally understood what the use of thinking was. On the walk home, he kept thinking of ways to show himself. If he could save a baby in a critical situation, or a dog, Merlin will certainly have a further understanding of him. However, experience has taught him that babies and puppies are rarely in dangerous situations. Thinking about it, he came to the door of Fitz's flower store. A note was posted on the window that read, "Flowers are the language of all lovers."

The text nudged him awake.

"Dad," he said at the dinner table.

"Could you give me a little advance for tidying up the lawn and other miscellaneous things? I figured it would be about eighteen dollars."

"Wait a minute, son, the lawn only needs to be tidied twice a month."

"What exactly are you doing with the money?" His mother asked. "Oh, I have to buy a gift."

"For a girl?"

"Well, something like that."

"I won't promise!" His mother said.

"Besides, you've taken more than eighteen so far this month."

Mr. Wentworth pursed his lips a little.

"Come to think of it, it may not be a good month."

Before closing his bank account, Denton had eleven dollars left. With eighteen, and the eleven, he marched majestically toward Fitz's flower store. A new-faced girl, standing at the Geun counter. She had arched eyebrows, and a sweet, warm smile. He thought of Merlin in his mind.

"Buy twenty-nine dollar orchids!" He shouted. The girl stared at him in disbelief. Finally, she thought, "Oh my God!" A word is full of meaning. Denton could sense her envy.

"Deliver the flowers to Merlene on Dover Road. Miss Fliger."

He said grimly.

"Good heavens!" Same words, different meanings. This time it was like a caress of affection.

"Twenty-nine dollars!" Money is not very pleasing when it is just a cold, impersonal string of numbers; once it is translated through a soft voice, it sounds as if it were the sound of a benediction. He rested the pile of bills on the counter and looked at the girl, as at the stars in the northern sky, who became dreamlike and clear and shimmering.

"What is your name?" He asked in a mute voice.

"Diana." She replied.

Denton scratched his ear, it was starting to itch again.