A year of Firsts
May 2010
First Picture
June 2010
First Date
July 2010
First Hike
August 2010
First Trip to Pullman
September 2010
First Concert
October 2010
First Halloween
November 2010
First Thanksgiving
December 2010
First Apple Cup
January 2011
First New Year
February 2011
First Valentine's
March 2011
First Radio Show
April 2011
350 Days Later
The History
Nine months ago, three months after meeting Adam, my best-friend asked if I’d be his girl-friend. We were swinging on a hammock, watching the stars, talking about life. It was July 4th, 2010. A day of slip-n-slide, water-logged phones, golf swings, fireworks, and spinning innertubes completed the memory. We were already in love. We already knew. Only nine months ago.
It’s funny what happens when you realize that you’ve found “The One.” So cliché, yes. SO CLICHÉ. But SO TRUE. “You just know,” is what everyone explained to me, but before Adam, I didn’t get it. I couldn’t understand it. Now I do. And I’ll be as cliché about it as I want to be.
It all started at Rock Talk. April 19, 2010. A bunch of baseball boys crammed into one apartment. I smelled trouble! And I found him too. Adam was a bit different back then. He was, what I considered, Messy. A funny, witty, intellectual guy, but a guy nonetheless. And he wasn’t what I was “looking for.” I had a list. The List. And Adam wasn’t on it. Soon enough, I’d realize that the endless list of qualities I was searching for wasn’t what God had intended for me. And I’m thankful He made me throw it away.
Adam eventually found his salvation in God. He was becoming a man. And my interest was sparked. I enjoyed Adam as a friend at first. The kind of friend that refuses to leave you alone. He was the guy that could always make me laugh, could always battle wits with me, could always find a way to interrupt my studying. He lived life on a whim. Baseball was his root. His passion. His definition. Now God is.
The First Date
Our first date was in secret. I was still unsure, but he was determined, so I gave in. He made it clear to me from the beginning that he was skilled in persistence. He’s no liar. His persistence dressed me up in a black shirt, skinny jeans, and high heels. He wore a black collared shirt, dark blue Levis, and black Vans. And he was SO handsome. So handsome, in fact, that on our way to dinner in Moscow, I stopped on the side of the highway. I needed a picture. We were on Airport Road and the rolling hills of the Palouse were a sparking green. A perfect backdrop for a perfectly handsome man. I asked him to get out, which he complained about, as his 6-foot-4-inch body squirmed out of the tiny Jetta. I grabbed my camera, easily hopped out of Hans, and there we were, standing in the middle of the highway as I America-Next-Top-Modeled him. Then I took a couple of us.
We made our way to dinner, I, in slight fear that someone might see us. Smoky Mountain’s teriyaki fettuccini and chicken alfredo treated us quite well. So good, actually, that every time since, we’ve ordered the exact same thing. Our waiter snapped another picture of us – of course. We talked Adam-and-Kendall talk. The kind defined by flirty butterflies and clammy palms. We were in love. We just didn’t know it yet.
I wanted to spend more time with him. He was captivating. Everything he said was so…Adam. He struggled back into Hans, my Jetta, and we started driving. The road led us to Bailey-Brayton. Adam’s favorite place to spit, chatter, and pitch in Pullman. I love His love. And I love his love for baseball. He showed me into The Barn and for the first time, I was able to understand the daily experience his life offers. And why he loves it so much.
*DISCLAIMER: My apologies to the WSU baseball team for illegally entering your facility, hitting a few balls, and falling in love. Next time, I’ll consider using better judgment. But probably not.*
I didn’t want to see the night end. He didn’t either. But that was The Plan. And I obeyed. He gave me a hug. No kiss. No way. I wasn’t ready for that. He knew it. And just as any gentleman should, he said goodnight without persistence. I guess Adam was just persistent at the right times, with the right motives. And I’m thankful for that.
The Ring
So Adam and I have a LITTLE obsession with San Francisco. Ok, that’s a lie. The first time I saw the city, I fell in love. Come to find out, Adam felt the same way. We talk, maybe a bit too often, about our “Future Life” in SF. And about how much we’d like to make a difference there. Also, I think he’d look good in Orange and Black.
A few weekends ago, Adam had a series at Cal. Cal just-so-happens to be about a 15 minute bus ride from San Francisco. So, he went. Alone. And I felt guilty. I just wanted to be there with him. For our first time. Exploring our city. Together. Well, a few weeks later, on April 4th, I found out that he had other plans. Adam plans. He explained that he had only wanted to see AT&T Park and that whatever he saw, he’d send pictures. So, he sent me pictures. I was secretly jealous. Ok, that’s a lie too. It wasn’t a secret! After a while, the pictures subsided. I was sad. An hour went by, and I grew concerned. Maybe he got beat up and mugged? Where were all the pictures? Is he ok? Oh, Adam was fine. Just fine. He had a goal. And a secret. But it wasn’t for me to know. Only for him and his dad. As he walked the streets of San Francisco, he had a helper. His dad sat at his desk, searching diligently on Google, a thousand miles away, directing Adam through the streets of our city, on a mission to find a Jeweler.
After a few strange run-ins, he found my ring at a Kay Jewelers in San Francisco that day. So Adam.
The Phone Call
Adam was blessed with an elastic left arm, a fiery wit, and a gentleman’s consideration. He called my dad. “Mr. Mays?” he asked. I don’t know where this formality came from, but I sure like it! “I just wanted to let you know that if I ever make it to the major leagues, God willing, I’ll get you season tickets as long as you’d like.”
My dad smiled. He LOVES baseball. Infatuation might actually be more appropriate. “Well, ok?” he answered. Apparently, Dad thought this an odd reason to call someone in the middle of the day, randomly, to say. I’d have to agree. But Adam continued.
“Well, those season tickets do come at a price. I promise to give you season tickets if you give me your daughter’s hand in marriage?”
My dad cried. And then agreed to the deal. But only half of it. He told Adam he’d forfeit the tickets if he’d promise to take care of me for the rest of my life.
Adam agreed.
The Truck
Benny, Adam’s truck, has a temper. Often, he throws fits. His most annoying temper tantrum has been ongoing for THREE months now. In December, after Adam’s dad fixed Benny’s broken passenger door, Benny decided to cease all forms of musical enjoyment. The radio, speakers, and all things music DO NOT work. And Adam hasn’t had the time, energy, or drive to heal Benny’s feelings. So, we travel without music. Every day.
The Proposal
April 4, 2011. What a day. What a beautiful day!! I woke up refreshed, alive, and slightly sun-kissed. Thank goodness. I was giddy the whole morning. It had been 9 months since that night on the hammock! NINE! Holy smokes, it went by SO FAST. Adam and I have grown so much. From guy to man. From Messy to Adam. From loneliness to love. From me to us. From baseball to God.
We spent most of the day together. Laughing, remembering, smiling. He was full of smiles. And I really like his smiles. We planned our day. I talked him in to going to the Cougar Sport’s Awards, even though he already had his own plans. So we went. My Persistence dressed him up in slacks, a white collared shirt, a crimson tie, and a blazer. And some random sunglasses…I wore a back dress, a heel, and a boot. Yes, one heel and one boot. Because I’m a clumsy athlete and can’t keep myself healthy. He sat at the baseball table. I sat at the track table. But I was missin him. After a couple hours, we left. Off to Smoky Mountain, we were. Excited for our chicken-pasta-goodness. But Adam was being weird. We got into Benny, much easier than into the Jetta, and he started driving to Moscow. In circles. As many might know, Adam is sub-par in his directional abilities. He takes the wrong lefts, goes straight when he’s supposed to turn right, and exits traffic when the destination is 2 miles ahead. It’s cute. But his bad sense of direction was a bit unappreciated at the time. I was hungry. Starving. And he didn’t know where he was. Or so I thought. He twisted and turned his way through Pullman, and ended up, finally, on Airport Road. It was dark, the windshield was soaked, and I was happy. I love Airport Road. So does he.
Adam was insistent upon having me notice how bright oncoming headlights were. Yeah? I thought. He flashed his brights on and off. On and off. He had officially lost his mind? No. No, it was purposeful.
We were halfway to Moscow and he decided, suddenly, to stop the truck. I was far too confused. Now what? He put on his sunglasses, reached behind him, and got out of the truck. Butterfly attack. The biggest swarm ever. He walked out to the front of Benny. The glaringly bright headlights were his spotlight. He got down on one knee. And from inside the truck, I cried. And he got to watch. Because of the sunglasses. In the pouring rain, he waited for me. I climbed out of Benny and into a familiar memory. Only this time, Adam and I had changed places. And this time, I was the one struggling to get out of the car. I walked to him with uneven steps. Boot. Heel. Boot. Heel. So Kendall. In my fancy dress and done-up hair, I stood in front of the man I’ve loved since that first date. The rain didn’t matter. My hunger didn’t matter. Adam’s map skills didn’t matter. It was just me. Just him. And just God.
He asked if I would marry him on that rainy highway. Down on one knee. Soaking wet. And as handsome as I’ve ever seen him. He spoke to me in truth and honesty, and his words were perfect. I think my exact response was, “Of course I’ll marry you!” But in a very I’m-so-happy-that-I-can’t-even-form-reasonable-sounds voice. I sat on his knee and gave him the biggest hug I knew. Time stopped for a while, and waited patiently for us as we caught up to Reality.
We were flirting with the dangers that accompany a two-laned, unlit, rain-showered highway. And I was freezing. We hurried back to Benny. Boot. Heel. Boot. Heel. Smiles from ear to ear. Adam gave me a kiss, put the truck in drive, and headed for Smoky. Not 5 seconds later, we got our confirmation. MUSIC! Country music! On the radio! In Benny! Adam and I exchanged incredulous stares. NO. WAY. The second round of waterworks began immediately. How that happened, I don’t know. The system in that truck hasn’t worked in months. God must have been smiling. That’s our only answer. And it’s ok with us!
We listened to George Strait all the way to Moscow. Me in the middle, holding his arm, in tears. I’ve never been more happy.
We ate our fill, Adam drank his Coke, and the waiter snapped a few more pictures. Conversation was relentless. And if I had things my way, I’d still be sitting in that booth. Giddy and butterfly-filled. Just talking. To my fiancé. About God and Love and everything that happens in between. But darnit, things just don’t work like that! Instead, he drove me home. And for those next 10 minutes, Adam and George sang me love songs.
I thank God every day for blessing me with Adam. For his love and kindness. For his loyalty and respect. For his honesty and diligence. For his friendship and strength. And also for His Persistence.
And today, when I got into Benny, there was no music. Just for the record.
