Day 5

Prompt: The story of how your parents met, transposed into the Victorian era.

It was a cold day on the cricket field. The win blew fiercely. Norma sat in the stands freezing despite her many layered dress and mink stole. Her wide hat pushed up a bit to allow her to watch the ebb and flow of the game.

She wasn’t sure about the date her brother had set up for her. She had just returned from her boarding school for spring break and her brother, Jerry, said he knew a handsome gentlemen that would be fetching towards her. His name, ironically, was Jerry too. He was a student at a prestigious boys school, and he was a smashing good cricket players. But still she was unsure.

She was violating some social norms by scouting him out at this game before they actually met, but she didn’t want to another date gone wrong.

She watched him with a knowing eye, she (covertly) followed cricket and other sports. She was impressed with his playing. He certainly knew what he was doing. As the game progressed, she warmed to him despite the chilly weather.

She found herself cheering for him along with the rest of the crowd as he scored again and again. And she felt a thrill of triumph as his team won the match.

She wandered down to the sidelines as his team celebrated its victory.

She called to him, “Mr. Zimmerman, that was a fine performance. Your skills are quite exquisite.”

He stopped and looked at her, searching his memory for her face, but not finding it. “Thanks,” he said quietly.

“How rude of me not to introduce myself,” she stated, “You know my brother, Jerry Karl. I’m Norma Jean.”

His expression was fathomless. He blinked, once, twice. Then remembering himself, “It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.”

She could not tell what his thoughts were. They both stood there awkwardly, she waiting on him to take the lead. He just standing there.

“Well, I don’t want to keep from any engagements you might have,” she said at last.

“I don’t have any engagements,” he stated flatly.

“Well, if that is the case, perhaps you would like to call upon me at my parents’ home,” she boldly asked. She knew she was being too forward for her gender, but it seemed that he was not going to make the first move.

“All right, shall we say at 8,” he replied.

“8 it is.” She replied with the proper outer decorum, but with a wicked inward smile.