Going Stag

I had walked to and from Brandywine High School every day for almost a year-and-a-half. It wasn’t far from my home. Maybe 10 minutes if I was in a hurry. Maybe 20 if I got caught up in conversation.

With myself.

Yeah, I was that kid walking and talking with no one around to hear. And this before blue tooth and ear buds. Hell, this was before cellphones . . . unless you were Zack Morris.

The year was 1995. I was a sophomore. It was the night of homecoming.

Fall had come on strong that year. The night was cold and windy. Blowing my blasted tie up into my face and off around my shoulder. I finally had to tuck it into my khaki pants to get it to stay put.

But my tie was only a minor annoyance. My thoughts were consumed with something else entirely that night. And true to form, I was talking about it.

To myself.

I was going stag to homecoming.

Not by choice.

Not a surprise, though.

Brandywine had plenty of pretty girls. And I had noticed many. But I had my eye on one in particular. One whose attention I had sought for months.

Stephanie Leigh Miller.

Blond hair, past the shoulders. Blue eyes, big and flirty. Full lips, pouty and wanting. And great legs. Dancer’s legs. Sublime.

But Stephanie was more than just beautiful. Far more. She had a style all her own. Confidence. Smart. Independent. Sassy.

I was hooked.

For some reason, Stephanie never ran with the popular crowds. No cheerleading or sports. No drama or music. A background character to most. Just on the edge of recognition.

Not to me. To me, Stephanie was everything.

But Stephanie was dating Joshua Cook.

My best friend.

*****

I first met Stephanie the last day of freshman year. Everyone was clearing out their lockers. Not having much stuff, I finished quick and went to see what my friends—all two of them—were up to. They were on the other side of the freshman wing and still cleaning, chatting, and simmering in the bliss that was the dawn of summer vacation.

And next to them, Stephanie.

She wore a little red dress and long black boots. Her legs were lightning rods for my adolescent yearnings. I thought about them all summer.

That first day was not my finest hour. I think I managed a stuttering, “I like your boots.” I don’t know how I channeled Forrest Gump. It was not intentional. It was not for comedic effect. Even if it had been, it didn’t land.

Stephanie looked at me with a mix of pity and disgust.

An inauspicious start.

By the beginning of sophomore year, however, Stephanie had learned my name. I have no idea how. We hadn’t talked. We weren’t in the same classes. We had some mutual acquaintances. But no mutual friends. I didn’t see her that often. Yet she knew who I was.

The highlight of sophomore year up to that point had been a single, brief conversation I got to have with Stephanie.

Yeah, it was on the phone. And yeah, it wasn’t private. But it was mine nonetheless.

I was at Josh’s house when it happened. James Weiss—my other friend—was there too. He also fancied Stephanie. So we all three crushed on her. And we all knew it. But Josh was the better-looking of the three. (Sorry James!)

More important, Josh was bold as balls. He called her. Cold. He actually dialed her number!

Then threw the phone to James.

James stuttered and struggled but eventually got a conversation going. He confessed that it was Josh who had dialed. He implied that Josh did so with romantic intent. And he learned that Stephanie wasn’t repulsed by the notion.

At that point, an emboldened Josh took the phone back and picked up the thread with his typical subtle confidence. It didn’t take long before the topic of conversation turned dirty. We were adolescent boys, after all. To our delight, we found that Stephanie had no reservations about playing along.

Under these dubious circumstances, I eventually got my chance to talk to Stephani.

I have never been particularly quick-witted. And certainly not around the opposite sex. With Stephanie in particular, eloquence wasn’t an arrow in my quiver. So our brief conversation consisted mostly of her talking about Josh. With me agreeing. Yet, it was in that brief aural encounter that she introduced me to the now-antiquated phrase, jumping bones. From the mouth of a real and beautiful girl, no less!

Truly, I had crossed the Rubicon into manhood. My interest in Stephanie cemented.

Only to be shattered a week later. When Josh asked her out. And she accepted.

It rained the night of their first date. This was about two weeks before homecoming. They went to see a movie. Doesn’t matter which one. I didn’t want to know. My stomach hated me all day long. My bowels were even less forgiving. But both had resigned themselves to reality by the time night came.

I couldn’t sleep. I couldn’t concentrate. My mind tortured me with too-honest observations about my weight, my looks, my personality, my chances. Claustrophobia stalked me. Emotions betrayed me. Life hated me.

I opened the window behind my pillow to breathe. I listened to the rain and the wind and the quivering tree branches outside. The Pulp Fiction soundtrack played quietly in the background until I finally fell asleep. Tear-streaked. Exhausted.

Josh called me the next day. He bragged about getting to second base. I hated him.

But we were friends. He knew her first. He was better looking. And he had actually had a real conversation with her. It made sense for him to ask her out.

To be brutally honest, I was probably too chicken-shit to have asked her out anyway. So I stuffed the anger and loathing as deep as I could and looked up.

Brandywine High School.

I had arrived.

*****

Music pumped post-pubescent desire in the dark light of the cafeteria. Dozens of sweaty bodies jumped and gyrated against each other in strobed exuberance. Even from the front doors, the stench of it all burned my nose and made me jealous.

But my envy lasted only moments. Josh and James materialized out of the horny throng and were coming my way. Both were smiling. Both were welcoming me to the party. Though I was still too far away to hear their voices over the din.

I had just entered the front doors. Josh and James were coming from the cafeteria, some 100 feet in front of me. Between us was the school’s main entrance. It was a large empty space used mostly for forming unnecessary lines. To my left, doors to the assembly hall and an adjacent hallway to the band room. To my right, the front office and a hallway into the bowels of the school.

The crowd in the cafeteria continued to dance. Even more students had spread throughout the school. They huddled in their respective clicks. Talking and laughing and judging each other with their usual cruelty.

I made a beeline towards my friends. Closing the distance and shouting a greeting. I was happy that the lonely hollow in my stomach had finally started to fill.

But that happy reunion never happened. It was cut off by a streak of lime green and pink. In an angry blur, Stephanie shot out from the hallway to my right and charged at Josh. She slapped him in the face. Hard.

She was gone just as fast. Vanishing back into the dark hole of existence from which she had sprung. In her wake stood three startled and embarrassed teenage boys. We all had stupid looks on our faces. One punctuated by a single, red handprint.

*****

“What happened?” I asked, trying hard to hide the budding seed of hope that was working to push past the dark earth of my despair.

We had retreated down the band hallway. Huddling on the opposite side of the school from Stephanie. As far from danger as we could comfortably get without entering the reputation-tarnishing confines of the band room.

Circled. Huddled. Our heads pressed tight together. We spoke secretly over the thumping noise of the dance.

Josh nodded towards James with annoyance.

“Numbnuts here let slip that I told him about getting to second. Stephanie went mental.”

James looked up with furrowed brow.

“Dude, I said I was sorry!”

Josh shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“Now she won’t even talk to me.”

I put on a sympathetic face, secretly pumping a single fist in my mind. Josh continued, his voice pleading and playing a tiny violin.

“I need your help, man. We’re both burned for the night. But she might listen to you.”

My gut constricted. My throat closed. And for so many reasons.

I had never had a real conversation with Stephanie. Not alone. And certainly not when she was angry. Now Josh wanted me to act as an advocate on his behalf. To get back the girl that he had humiliated. The girl that I loved.

I didn’t want to. That was certain. A part of me was happy how things were unfolding. That part wanted things to stay just as they were. Or get worse.

At the same time, Josh was my friend. And I knew deep down what a cad I was to feel the way I did.

I looked hard at Josh. His puppy-dog eyes and contrite countenance worked their magic. He felt bad. Guilty. And not merely for getting caught or slapped or embarrassed. But for hurting Stephanie’s feelings.

He liked her. He actually cared.

Crap!

“Of course. What do you want me to do?”

Josh’s frown flipped hard to a beaming Hallelujah. My heart and soul sank. But a tender part of me felt a modicum of peace. So I focused on that as I geared up for my mission.

*****

It took me 15 minutes to find Stephanie. She and her friends had migrated to the open courtyard in the dead center of the school. We called it the glade. It’s where the potheads hung out at lunch to play hacky sack. At present, Stephanie and a gaggle of giggling girls had flocked there to do whatever it is girls do when gathered in herds.

Try as I might, I saw no openings. Stephani was surrounded. Always. And I wasn’t about to try to penetrate that Gordian Knot of estrogen. At the same time, I couldn’t go back to Josh and James without having made a good faith attempt.

I was stuck.

I turned to look behind me. Back into the cafeteria-turned-dancefloor. The pounding base and thick fog of seeping hormones made my eyes water. When I turned back towards the girls, Stephanie stood in front of me. Eyes smoldering. Jaw set. Hands clenched in tight fists and riding high atop her hypnotic hips.

A wall of angry maidens stood behind Stephanie. They stared at me. Judging me. Hating me.

Stephanie spoke. Her voice ice with a hint of acid.

“Did he send you?”

“Yes.”

General Ackbar screamed in my brain. It’s a trap!

But her eyes imprisoned me.

“What does he want?”

I couldn’t answer. There were too many eyes. I was outnumbered and outpowered. I needed neutral ground.

“Could we go somewhere else? In private, maybe?”

Perhaps it was the sincerity in my voice. Or the pathetic look on my face. Whatever the reason, Stephanie agreed.

We broke away from her posse and from danger. We reentered the school and walked uncomfortably past the dancers. Back towards the main entrance. Stopping just at the threshold between the two.

Here, in a strange pocket of relative quiet, Stephanie’s arms folded. Not the stern crossing of arms that every parent of a certain age knows instinctively. But the cradling of a broken heart. The desperate, subconscious posture of every woman fighting to hide her insecurities. Tears began to form in her eyes. A ragged pain began to tighten in my chest. I had to make her feel better. There was nothing more to do.

“Stephanie . . .”

She looked up. Her face a ghostly portrait of beauty and hurt.

“Stephanie, I know Josh can be an idiot. I know it. But you gotta know that he is so sorry.”

She stared. Listening but unmoved. My opening salvo had missed its mark. I tried again.

“He feels awful. For real. And angry. At himself. He never wanted to hurt you. He just likes you so much. And, you know, guys are dumb.”

Another miss.

I had one more in me.

“Stephanie. Please. Won’t you please forgive him? He made a mistake. He’s truly sorry. And he won’t do it again.”

That was all I had. The rest was up to God. Thankfully, Stephanie spoke. It took a minute. Her voice was anything but forgiving. But she finally opened her beautiful, red lips and talked.

“Did he tell you too?”

I swore under my breath. But I couldn’t lie. So I nodded. Lamely. In shame.

“I wish he hadn’t told me. I hated him when he did. I still do. A little. But I also know him. Josh is more than that. He’s funny. And fun. And kind. He’s a good friend. That was just a mistake. One he’ll never do again.”

Stephanie didn’t respond at first. But I could see she was coming around. Just a little. Her face had lost the sheer pallor of pain. The tears that had formed in her eyes had either withdrawn or evaporated. Her arms had disengaged—just a bit. And one of her porcelain hands played at a stray lock of her glowing blond hair. I pressed on, digging deep for every ounce of emotion I could muster.

“I’ve forgiven him. I know that you have more to forgive. But I’m begging you. Please give him another chance. Just one more chance.”

Stephanie stood there in silence. Looking perfect and lovely and the very epitome of everything I could ever want in a woman. But she was stone cold. Thinking.

It was then that the mood of the dance seemed to change. And hers. Or maybe it was just then that I noticed it.

The beat wasn’t bumping anymore. Bodies weren’t grinding anymore. The music had turned mellow. Quiet. A slow dance had begun.

With a generosity and tenderness reserved only for the gods, Stephanie’s gentle, perfect hand reached out and took my own. It was warm and soft. Inviting and vestal. It tugged at me to follow her into the gym. Her shimmering eyes and dulcet smile extended an invitation of their own.

I followed. My God did I follow! Without hesitation. Without worry. Filled with gladness and surprise and total and complete contentment.

Into heaven.

*****

Seal’s Kiss from a Rose burned sweet through the school. We danced. Together. Slow. Four minutes and forty-eight seconds of bliss.

Stephanie was a feather. Floating in a sultry summer breeze. Her body and soul rocking gently in the steamy gym.

I stumbled like a newly birthed donkey. Wearing cement shoes. And a full body cast. I was Frankenstein’s monster.

Her hands rested on my shoulders notwthstanding. Condescending to touch the unworthy. My hands gripped her hips. Gently on either side.

Physical contact.

Electricity in hormone form.

Then Stephanie looked at me. Square in the eyes.

The world vanished. It was me and Stephanie and a perfect moment of hope fulfilled. No cares. No worries. No thoughts of yesterdays or tomorrows. Only now. Only us. Moving in rhythm with the song.

There was warmth that passed between us then. A familiarity shared. A moment that would carry through the rest of high school. It would never bloom. But in that moment, for those few seconds, it was enough.

Turning her head towards the school’s main entrance, Stephanie stepped in close. She wrapped her arms around my neck. Rested her head on my chest.

My hands slid around her back. Meeting each other on the other side. We swayed softly from one side to the other. One body. Content. At peace.

Then the song ended.

It had to. Such is the nature of life.

Our bodies separated. An inevitability.

She spoke as we parted. Saying the last words I’d hear from her that night.

“Thanks, Graham. Josh is lucky to have a friend like you.”

But she wasn’t looking at me when she spoke. Our eyes wouldn’t meet again that night. Her attention was elsewhere. Towards the main entrance still. Towards the band hallway.

Josh and James were standing there. Waiting at the threshold. Watching. Hurt sunk deep in Josh’s eyes. I could see it from 20 feet away.

Stephanie left without fanfare. A wry smile on her lips.

The moment had ended. And with it, me. So I was gone. Nonexistent.

I watched as she walked over to Josh. They exchanged a few uneasy words. I’m sure he apologized. She accepted. Their gaze never separated. Their focus never wavered. Their hands clasped. They walked onto the dance floor. Another slow song was playing. This one more meaningful.

*****

I didn’t stay. There was no reason.

I walked home. The wind still blowing. My tie still flailing. The dance still going. I could hear the bass thumping through the suburban night air. The heavy rhythm fading as time and tread wore on.

And I was lone. Again. As usual.

The walk took a solid 20 minutes. Maybe even more. I wasn’t paying attention. I had a lot to think about. And discuss.

With myself.

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