The call to duty came from my youngest brother, Mitch. A new, gung-ho Marine, he was recently stationed at Fort McClellan in Alabama. I was college senior studying journalism at the University of Kentucky and was looking forward to another semester of overworking and undersleeping when I got the call.
"Hi Sis. Are you going out with any of those fraternity wimps this weekend?"
"Well, not really."
"Good, 'cause I need a favor. I want you to go out with a buddy of mine down here."
Immediately, red lights flared in my head like tracers over a night firing range. With some hesitation, I asked, "Uh… who is he?"
"He's the closest friend I got in the whole world."
"What's his name?"
"He's just like you, Kelsey. The two of you have everything in common. He even likes Pasty Cline."
"What's his name?"
"Uh… Uh… Picir…Picirrelli. Yeah, that's it. It's kind of hard to pronounce."
"What's his first name?"
"Private First Class. So what do you say?"
"Are you sure he likes Patsy Cline?"
"Oh, sure, sure. He's a real sensitive guy. And he's six-foot-two with blond hair and blue eyes."
"I still don't know. It's a long drive."
"Well, bring a friend with you, Say somebody about five-foot-six with long, dark hair and blue, blue eyes. We can all go out to dinner. It'll be fun."
I can't go to Alabama this weekend, I said to myself. I have a linguistics test on Friday. Then again, this guy does like Patsy Cline. And he's got blond hair and blue eyes. And he's a Marine, one of America's finest.
So, just like any sister would, I said: "Okay, we'll be down."
Hanging up, I thought, Now, who do I know that's reasonably good-looking, intelligent enough that I can stand driving with her for six hours, and dumb enough to go on a blind date with my brother the Marine?
I knew my brother well enough to consider one more factor: Mitch seemed to be addicted to girls named Laura, Laurie, or Laurel. In the last three years, he'd somehow managed to date eighteen girls with the "L name," as he often bragged.
Well, I thought, this would be
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