Busted

In Lamar, the adults would put on dances to give the teens something to do. I was 12 when they had a summer dance in the empty swimming pool. I was not old enough to attend, so I hung outside the chain link and grooved along with the music and dreamed of MY turn to go to a dance.

School dances were a let down. Girls on one side, boys on the other - only kids "dating" were dancing. I found myself willing a boy across the room to ask me to dance. I would focus ALL my mental powers on him and if he did not ask me, I would go into a depression for days,

But the summer dances - oh my - anything could happen there. No theme. No decorations. No status. Just a crummy band in a dark hall with any kids from the area that were old enough to attend.

I must have been 15 or 16 when I found myself dancing with you. I had always thought you were cute, but because I had a thing for picking one guy at a time to work my "will" on, you'd never been one I'd sent imaginary mental signals too. I remember the cowboy boots you had on. I wondered if it was difficult to dance in them. Cowboy boots meant you lived on a farm, and I was a city girl. (in a town of what, 3000?) And asking me to dance with you was all it took. I was ready for whatever. You asked if I wanted to go "out for a drive" and I knew exactly what I thought you meant. We were going to make out. I was ready to try that out. Now I'd had a boyfriend and I'd made out, but never with someone I just met up with that night. It was daring. It was naughty. It was exciting.

Your car was something old, low, dark and unreliable. I was not sure where to put my hands or my face and even less sure if we were on the same page of what we were doing. Perhaps I was a bit confused, but I seem to remember it being fun in a "we should not be doing this" way.

It was late, and I was going to be in trouble for not coming home at a decent time. And there was NO WAY I was supposed to leave the dance with anyone. And I had left with someone I barely knew. And I had begun to worry that my leaving with you the way I did would mean I was "easy." You pulled your car around and somehow it ended up off the road and stuck.

That's when things get fuzzy as most painful childhood memories do.

We must have walked to find a farm with a phone.
My father must have come to pick me up.
I know we never went out again.
I don't remember you and I even talking after that.

Did you date my sister?

Heart and soul

Sometime at the start of Junior High, we became friends.

Thrown together by a love of music, Jewish fathers, Presbyterian Sunday school - we were a team. You were the accompanist for the choir. I sang lead soprano. We both played flute in the school band. You were the only kid I knew with a piano in her room. I had always wanted to play piano, but even in my wildest dreams I would never would have equaled your talent. It was like music just gushed from your fingers through the keys and filled the room. You humored me - letting me play the easy part of piano duets.

Years we spent - you on the keyboard and me singing. All our spending money went toward sheet music. We performed at church, at Lion's Club meetings, at Rotary Club meetings. If there was a meeting that needed entertainment - we were there.

Boys came and went, but you were a constant. My love for you was fierce. We shared our teens together.

When I began dating the guy I later married, you did not approve. Perhaps it was the hormones - mine seemed to bloom before yours. What was driving me was not yet driving you. That afternoon, in your family's basement we were sitting on the couch talking when I saw the fear in your eyes. You thought you were losing me to him. And in that moment I wanted to do something to show how I felt about you. I wanted to kiss you.

My body was on auto-pilot. My face was aready leaning towards your's when I stopped myself. This was a side of me I'd never shared. What if you did not like me? What if you did? In that moment I knew things would never be the same for us. Instead of kissing you, I took a deep breath and told you I wanted to kiss you.

The phrase "bum's rush" comes to mind when I remember how quickly you got me to leave. We never talked about it. Which meant I never got to deal with the pain I felt. I was more like you than anyone in my world, now I was like no one. And worse, I disgusted you. We continued performing together. We were still in every music and drama group. But the distance that afternoon created only grew larger. And my life continued on it's chaotic path.

I locked that part of me away for a long time.