I waved to the boy and asked, "Do you need me to call somebody?"
Boy whose name I didn't know: "No, I don't need to call anybody."
"Are you waiting for somebody?"
"No."
"Do you want a ride?"
"Oh, okay, sure, if it wouldn't be too much trouble," he said, lugging his baritone sax into the car.
"Is it okay for you to get a ride? Do you need to call somebody?"
"Oh, no, it's fine if I get a ride. I don't need to call anybody. Thank you."
The boy was very polite, and he knew my son, and he looked familiar, and he didn't live too far, so everything seemed fine. It took me a while to realize that I had never met this kid before -- I had mistaken him for his twin brother, who was my son's classmate.
Of course, I didn't realize this until we were half way to his house, and my son blurts out, "Okay, so, like, are you Max or are you Charlie?" Apparently, my son didn't know who he was, either.
"I'm Max ... no, just kidding, I'm Charlie."
Now that we had that settled, we continued on our way only to drive past a boy who looked a lot like Charlie, carrying a large instrument as he walked down the street.
"HEY, MAX! SEE YA LATER!!! Ha ha ha ha ha!" yells Charlie, as we drive past his brother.
"Oh -- that's Max? I might as well stop and ..."
"NO!!! Noooo!!!! Don't stop the car! No, please, please ..." Charlie seemed to physically deflate as I slowed down the car and pulled over to the side.
"... give him a ride home, too." I could see Max running over, going pretty quickly for somebody carrying a big instrument case.
"Would you like a ride home, too?"
"Oh, thank you, Mrs. Oyama. Thank you." Max climbed in and my little car was just about at maximum capacity with all the instruments, amps, backpacks and boys.
Fortunately, we were only a short ride away from the twins' house.
I parked the car and got out to help dislodge the boys and their gear from the car. As we are unloading, one of the twins -- not sure which one -- remarks, "I wasn't sure who was driving the car -- I thought you might be Miles's sister. You look young for your age!"
Well, it wasn't the most artfully stated compliment, but I will take a compliment wherever I can get one. "Oh, thank you!" I happily reply. "Thank you for the ride!" the twins call back, smiling widely.
As I drive away, I am still enjoying the compliment, but suddenly I start to feel a sense of de ja vu. Well, not quite de ja vu ... it's more like ... nostalgia. And it takes a while to sink in, but I suddenly realize that I feel like June Cleaver.
I've been Haskellized. And, actually, I think I like it! Maybe I'll go put on some pearls and bake some cookies now.
[Note: I wrote this last year but apparently never clicked "publish post"; I saw one of the twins today during my library duty. I can't tell you which one, but he was very polite.]
