Shotgun fake date

So, I said my first fake date was my outing with Ice Cream Jenny, but I've been flipping through old journals, and I recant: my first fake date happened a few months before I moved to Provo.

Here is my record of 22 April 2007:

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Okay... That was... odd....

Today, Br. and Sis. Bennett (who live just a couple houses away from Jepson HQ) spoke in Church. For whatever reason, Sis. Bennett mentioned that she has a newly returned sister-missionary granddaughter visiting her this weekend. This naturally caught my attention, but I didn't think too much of it.

Sister Quiroz, bless her heart, interrupted the Sunday school class I was teaching to repeat the information to me and tell me to "get on it."

(It's probably okay she interrupted my class: I was tired and hyper and... well, I just wasn't as dignified as I probably ought to have been.)

I thought about at least introducing myself to this dear interloper, but I didn't get the chance before we left Church.

Oh, well, I thought; There's a fireside this evening; if the Bennetts come, I'll introduce myself.

Nice thought....

Mom was making dinner. I was hungry and it smelled good. Then she told me that I should ask the Bennetts' granddaughter to go to the fireside with me; I said that I thought it'd be a little strange since I'd never met her. Mom said I should ask her anyway; I said I wouldn't. Mom handed me the phone and told me the Bennetts' phone number; I put the phone away. Mom said if I didn't call, I couldn't have dinner.

I called.

Br. Bennett answered. He turned me over to Sister Bennett. She said that this was their last evening together, so they wouldn't be going out. Then she said, "If Amy wants to go, I'll have her call you."

I returned and reported to Mom.

A few minutes later, the phone rang, caller ID: Bennett, John.

I answered:

"Hello?"

"Hi, is Kyle there?"

"This is Kyle."

"Oh. Hi, Kyle--this is Amy."

"Hi."

"Uh. I was just calling to say, "Sure. I'd like to go.'"

"Oh," I said, "yeah. Cool. I figured, ya know, we returned missionaries like Church History stuff. It starts at 7, so I guess I'll pick you up around--" (I looked to Mom for guidance, and she said, "20 till.")--"twenty minutes before that. Sound good?"

"Yeah."

"Alright," I said. "I'll see you then."

"Okay. Bye."

"Bye."

Fast forward about 3 hours to 6:40.

I drove over to the Bennetts'--something I've never done before because it's easier to walk there--and rang the bell. I had no idea who this girl was: I'd never seen her, never talked to her aside from our 15-second phone call.... All I knew was that she served in Russia for a while, took a tumble on the ice bad enough to get sent home, then finished her mission in New York.

Amy answered the door and invited me in while she went to grab her scriptures.

"I don't think I've ever driven down your driveway before," I said to Sister Bennett. "It's kinda steep."

"Yeah," she said. "You usually walk!"

Me 'n' Amy left, and a couple seconds later as we passed my house, I pointed it out:

"That's where I live," I said.

"Yeah," she said. "I know."

She then proceeded to tell me that she knows all about the Jepsons, that when her mom and grandma (Sis. Bennett) talk about Tehachapi, they always talk about Sister Jepson. She told me that she and her mom used to visit a lot when she was little, and Brandon was always in her primary class. She said she got to know Shanna a little, too ("She always said hi to me when I went to primary," she said; "made me feel special.") She said she knew I had a couple of older brothers and an older sister, too, but she never met them.

"I didn't know there was a younger brother," she said. "My grandma told me Kyle Jepson called, and I said, 'Who's Kyle? I didn't know there WAS a Kyle!' I thought Brandon was the youngest boy."

Oh. How nice.

We cahtted on the ride to the Chruch and for a little while after we got there. The fireside started just in time to rescue us from an awkward silence.

The speaker collects pictoral prints from old newspapers ("old" meaning late 1800s, early 1900s). It was supposed to be a Church history fireside, but it seemed to be an expose of various artwork--most of which portrayed the Chruch unkindly. There were some pretty good ones--including a photograph of the Salt Lake Temple with the scaffolding still on it--but the majority was anti-Mormon stuff. He treated it lightly, making a joke of it, but my mission in Idaho made me see that there is NOTHING funny about anti-Mormon literature.

Fine date your on, Kyle. Brilliant.

The drive home was pretty solemn. I somehow managed to get her to open up about her health problems, and she unloaded on me all the troubles she's been having.

"I don't really like to talk about it," she said at the end. Then she realized she had just told me all about it and said, "Oh. I guess I just told you all about it, but--"

It's nive to know I'm the kinda guy people can confide in.

She went on to explain that the worst part is all the pity she gets, all they worrying and poo-pooing people do, always fussing over her, afraid to invite her to do things because they're afraid she's not able.

She's not always able, though: she couldn't go back to BYU when she got home because of her back problems (her neck, shoulders, and back were all affected, and she's always in pain), and she can't work much, either.

Poor soul....

She's a good person, though: she's optimistic, friendly, happy....

I'm not sorry I asked her, frankly. I enjoyed it.

I hope she did, too.

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A few months after I moved to Provo, my mom called me. She had been talking to Sister Bennett and learned that Amy was back at BYU.

"You should look her up and ask her out," my mom said: "her dad makes a lot of money; it'd be nice for you to marry into money."

That was a year ago, I'd bet; I still haven't done it.

Doubt I ever will....