The Men and the Boys: Sandy

How is it that a girl with no social life is allowed to go to the prom? With a date? That's a boy?

She lies through her teeth and bribes her parents, that's how. Being on the prom committee, I *had* to go, and I *had* to have a date. That wasn't exactly true. Mom and dad weren't too happy about this and said they'd consider it, IF I pulled off a straight A's report card.

Oh, the look they gave me when I did just that. All long faces, they asked who my date would be. I told them it was some third cousin of Georgia's that I'd met at her birthday party. Of course, that wasn't true either.

Permission received. Now, I needed a dress.

Prom dresses are very important. They are also very expensive. I wasn't the type to spend hours in the mall and wanted to find my perfect dress with a quickness, but it was not to be. Everything was too sequined, too sexual, too floofy. Nothing was me.

I raided some closets and struck gold. A friend of Oli's who'd had her prom just a couple years prior was the owner of a beautiful dress with no place to go. Brace yourselves because this might hurt, but please remember this is the early 90's we're talking here: short, strapless, bodice hugging gown, sweetheart neckline, skirt with two tiers of ruffles. The bodice was black, trimmed on top with the same fabric that the skirt was made of, a Picasso-ish pattern of red and orange roses with dark green leaves. Spanish lace peeked from underneath each ruffle, and a short, black three-quarter sleeve bolero jacket completed the shebang.

Oli picked me up some black heels, lent me a rhinestone necklace & earrings, did my hair and made me up into an exotic, high school flamenco dancer. When Sandy arrived to pick me up I saw him do a double take. I think that was one of the first times he'd seen me in something dressier than jeans.

I did my own double take, as he looked very handsome in his dark plum suit. In his hand was a clear container with an orchid corsage for me, that he slipped onto my wrist. I had a white rose boutonniere for him, and as I pinned it onto his lapel he leaned over and whispered, "Well, don't you look beautiful." It was all very gushing and cheesy. I was beaming.

Prom that year was on the Captain Flinders, an elegant, stately boat that would sail the lake over the next few hours. I didn't tell Sandy that I had a little seasick thing, I was too excited to just be there with him. We boarded onto the interior deck, mingled for a bit, then settled into our table just as the ship left dock.

All the teachers from school were there, a lot of my friends were there, but Sandy and I didn't really do the social thing. Not to say we were wallflowers; we were just so absorbed in each other. Dinner was served along with non-alcoholic cocktails, but to this day I couldn't tell you what I ate. Couldn't tell you what we talked about either, but I can tell you that the entire time, he held my hand.

After dinner we made our way through the first and then the second deck, and found that almost hidden on top was a tiny third deck. It was fully outdoors, brightly lit and had speakers set up playing the music that everyone downstairs was listening to.

This is how I remember my prom: It was a gorgeous early June night, not hot or cold, and you could still hear the swish of the water over the music. Sandy asked me to dance when "Tears in Heaven" came on, and we stayed like that for the rest of the evening. For three hours, Sandy and I held each other and danced on the top deck, oblivious to everything and everyone around us. Other people came and went, boats sailed by, lights twinkled on the nearby island, all while we danced.

There are only a handful of events in my life that I would do almost anything to revisit, if only to capture those feelings again. Prom is one of them.

All too soon the Captain Flinders docked, we walked down the ramp and in what seemed like no time flat, were standing in front of his car on my street. I hugged Sandy and told him what a great time I had; he held on for extra long and told me the same. When we pulled apart I thought, a kiss would make this night perfect. Just one kiss. Smiling from the magic of the night, I looked Sandy in the eyes.

But Sandy wasn't looking at me. He was too busy studying his shoes.

It didn't take a bolt of lightning for me to realize what was going on. He was still with her. He was still with her, he wanted her, and he wouldn't kiss me because he didn't want to be more unfaithful then he already had been. He could justify taking me to a prom. A kiss, that was something else.

If that night made me sure of anything, it was that Sandy wanted me as badly as I wanted him. I could see it in the way he talked to me, looked at me, touched me. If that night made me sure of anything else, it was that I had to say goodbye. No matter how many fancy dresses I borrowed, or how many songs we danced to, she would always be there. I had to wake up and see that.

If you love someone set them free, right? Easier said than done. I hugged Sandy again, kissed him on the cheek, and thanked him for a wonderful evening. And then I walked up the driveway, through the front door, and down the hallway to my room, where I took my corsage off and hid it away in a desk drawer. Then, I took the dress off and threw it into the closet. I didn't waste any time getting it cleaned and back to its rightful owner. Looking at it made me sad.

I never saw Sandy again, but still think of him fondly.

No, that didn't happen. A lot of times I think how much easier things would have turned out, had that been the case. But Sandy and I, we still had one more chapter to write before closing the book. Our story was not yet finished.