Chapter 11The morning of the big day with Catherine’s family started out with me facing two puffy red eyes in the mirror. I read somewhere that the contact lenses of the early ‘70s were made of the same material as the canopies of jet fighters, which might have explained why it felt as if I had little canopies in my eyes. So I had to wear my ½-inch-thick plastic Coke bottles with the big ugly lenses.
In anticipation of seeing Catherine, the opera fiasco had faded overnight into a bad memory.
I’m getting better!
Ponytail blowing in the wind, Catherine drove briskly up Point Drive next to Bailey Hall in her family’s mint green 1966 Nova. She stopped the vehicle and moved the shifter into Park. The car radio was softly playing “Turn Back the Hands of Time” by Tyrone Davis. On her nose
