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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Love stories / Romance
- Subject: Love / Romance / Dating
- Published: 08/03/2017
He sat quietly in the parking lot, perched on the hood of his truck, his feet braced lightly on the bumper. He was so still that the occasional couple wandering into the gym never noticed him sitting there in the dark. His mind was anything but still. It was reeling in shock, his emotions, like his hormones- were raging- as they would be for any eighteen year old who caught his Prom Date, necking back stage behind the curtains with her dress pulled off the supple curves of her upper body. The hands exploring those curves should have been his. They were not.
It was Danny Farley’s hands that were caressing the soft mounds of exposed flesh, searching for the areas not often seen by the sun. Her hands were not idle either, as they were busy discovering where zipper and cumber bun part ways. Their hands were moving expertly, a bit hurriedly maybe, but with the skill and familiarity of having been there before. It was the confidence of those caresses, the intimacy, the urgency, that convinced him that Danny and her, had performed this search and please mission before. So he cleared his throat, just before the insistent fingers of her right hand, pulled the zipper from out under the cumber bun- fingers that wore not Danny’s ring, but his.
Danny, her, and two sets of hands froze in place at the sound of that almost gentle “eh hem.” They thought one of the Chaperone’s had caught them, and they would be kicked out of the dance. In the darkness it took them a second to realize it wasn’t a Chaperone- it was him. Her Fiancé - Quincy. She heard the quick intake of Danny’s breath, the fear that was in that silent inwards breath- her own gasp was filled with the same fear. Danny had seen what Quincy could do when the three thugs back in Tenth Grade accosted Quincy’s Mom in a parking lot mugging. Two of those thugs remember little of that night, or anything else for that matter.
One punch from Quincy’s huge hands had separated their cognitive abilities, along with their speech - both of them, the ones that had hist Quincy’s Mom with brass knuckles breaking both her jaw and eye socket- were left by Quincy’s punch as little more than vegetables. Vegetables that remained moist in their own constant drool, and required institutional care. The third thug, well, he only got a broken arm, a broken jaw, and a broken eye socket. Unlike Quincy’s Mom, who healed completely after seven months of rehab, and four surgeries- but still had a deep fear of parking lots- even in broad daylight, the third thug walked with a limp, and still saw double. It had been two years since Quincy delivered that beating to the three thugs.
All of that, the trial, the publicity, and the fact that Quincy was only fifteen at the time, (and much much smaller than the Quincy standing in front of him) flashed through Danny’s petrified mind- her mind was as mired in fear as Danny’s. Because Quincy was a minor, and his Mom was still in recovery when she was wheeled into testify in the deposition - charges were dropped, and the Self- defense clause was ruled believable- even if the damage a fifteen year old with no brass knuckles had done to three twenty year old thugs was not. All Quincy remembered was seeing them hit his Mom, and her first horrible scream. It woke him up in the back seat of the car where he had been sleeping.
It must have seemed to the Thugs that some kind of Demon had sprung from that door - one dispensing destruction with every blow. The blind fury of an elemental, not a human, as he pummeled them into senselessness. Some part of his mind held back from the Third thug, because that one did not his his Mom, otherwise, none of the three would have been able to make a statement. Not that one was needed. The security camera showed the carnage in any speed you chose. No matter which speed you chose, your eyes refused to believe anything human could move that fast, hit that hard, and think that fast. And Danny and her had both seen that tape.
Quincy just stood there. It must have been a minute, maybe more, before either Danny or her, could take another fear saturated breath. Neither noticed the warm liquid trickling down their thighs…for it wasn’t the wet stick perfumed fluids they were working on just a few moments ago- it was their own urine that stained one set of tuxedo pants, and the silk brocade of a Prom Dress. Still… no one spoke. No one moved.
Quincy put out a giant hand- open and flat - moving it slowly towards her- as if you were trying to entice a wild animal, or shy dog, to come nearer…when that giant hand (still open, to the relief of both Danny and her) stopped just an inch from her still glistening body, the tan lines that ringed her breasts, and the much lower tan line that peeked over the waistline of the crumpled dress were visible to him, to Danny, to herself- and that is when shame first showed up. Not as a thought, but as a red blush, and a feeble attempt to cover her body with the crinoline covered sash of her dress- one look from Quincy - and her hands, feeble as they were moving, dropped back down to sink into her lap like sunken trash.
It was then that Quincy spoke the last words that either Danny or her would hear from him:
“Give me the ring. Don’t ever call. Don’t ever say hello to me- either of you. Ever.”
She slipped the ring off her finger, washing it clean with the tears that were falling now like some biblical prophecy of old. She placed into those strong hands- hands that once loved her, but never explored to the extent that Danny’s hands did. For Quincy was the kind of boy (and now, to late, she realized - man) who you married, not the kind who excited you into passionate trysts in secret locations. The almost edible delight of being deliciously dangerous, exciting and the knife edge chance of being caught was what drove the passion of a cheating Danny and her. It was, she thought, a mistake. Only that thought came to late. She thought like every other time, she could twist the truth to cover her ten or fifteen minute absences from dances, or her supposed : “I am not feeling good tonight, I am going to just stay home. You understand, don’t you? “ Then she would kiss Quincy lightly on the lips, and see that shy smile appear on his face. “Of course, get some rest. See you tomorrow.”
Never knowing on the other side of the door stood Danny, as hard as the wood in the door frame, with just about the same amount of sense. It turned both Danny and her on, often they were furiously pounding in a sweaty meaty embrace before they even heard his truck leave the driveway. It made them both eager, both hungry for smooth skin, and wet lips- and their secret delight in - once again- duping poor Quincy - made their bodies hair trigger responsive. It was only later, the second or third time that night, that they could slow down enough to let their passion cool. Only then would a just a shadow of shame, just a mere wisp , color their thoughts , but only for a moment.
And so it was that Quincy sat on his truck. He didn’t know how she was getting home, or what Danny’s date to the Prom would do, when Danny showed up with another girl in tow who needed a ride home. He didn’t care. He was calming down now. The last three years were a lie. And like most lies, the truth simply buries them- and it is over. He wished them well, in a weird way. They meant nothing to him now. Her, especially. He had sat in the quiet long enough to erase any memory of her that held even a smidgen of decent loving laughter. Without laughter, no relationship memory can survive.
Quincy would call his Mom and tell her simply: “I am not engaged anymore. It didn’t work out.” And his Mother knew that was the only explanation she would get. Others would not even get that much out of Quincy. If asked by the few people who knew him well enough to ask (which was a very small number) he would just say: “ It’s over.” And they would know not to ask for details. For they would never get them …at least not from him.
So he never noticed the girl in the emerald green gown, her beautiful shoes held by the straps( loosely )in her one hand- instead of being on her feet. Nor did he notice the smeared mascara on her fact, or the flowers that were torn and shredded cascading down the front of her dress, a few clinging to her hair as if to rest for a moment. HIs eyes were open but his closed heart stopped him from seeing anything. It wasn’t until he heard her voice, that his vision returned.
“Okay if I join you? It looks like this Prom sucks as much for you, as it did for me.”
“Sure. “ He put out a giant hand, and pulled her gently in one long gentle pull onto the hood of his truck. Somehow she pirouetted in the air, sliding next to him with her dress gathered under her, as if they had practiced that move a thousand times. He smiled at her grace and smoothness, and she smiled recognition of that compliment back at him. He took a look at her face, now close enough to see the damage that hard sobs do to a woman’s eye shadow, mascara, and blush. He took out his handkerchief, offering it to her like it was a corsage.
“Thank- you.” She took it and began wiping in curious little dabs around her eyes and cheeks. He studied how sure those movements were, how delicate, yet purposeful each dab was. She saw him studying her, turned to look right at him:
“Let me know when I don’t look like a raccoon that fell into a creek.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“If you look like a raccoon, you have to be the prettiest raccoon that ever lived.”
He wasn’t surprised that he said it, he was just surprised that he said it out loud. It was not surprise to him , or her, that he meant it.
“I bet you say that to every girl who sits on the hood of your car in a wrinkled dress, dripping makeup and wearing what is left of a torn corsage. On Prom night too. “
He laughed again.
“No. Your the first girl I ever met on Prom night. You know, because this is my first Prom. “
This time she laughed. It was not a shy laugh, but a comfortable one. A laugh that let them both know they were hiding tears just inches below that laugh.
“So, want to tell me what happened?”
“Oh, nothing dramatic. My date told me he had to go to the Bathroom. After about twenty minutes I wen’t looking for him- because if he was in the bathroom that long, he would need some help.” Again they both smiled.
When I found him, he was backstage with some girl. She had her dress half off, and was leaning on his shoulder crying like she had just seen death come for her. He was as pale as a Vampire- there was no color in his skin, and his face had that look you see sometimes at car wrecks or tragedies- you know that kind of shock like look says you just missed death. When they turned to look at me- I just told him: “You suck. I will find my own way home. Maybe that is why he was so pale, Vampires suck!”
He laughed again. They gave each other a hearty high five slap.
“What about you? Why is a tall dark and handsome stranger sitting on the hood of a truck in the parking lot? Were you just waiting for girls in emerald dresses with lousy mousy makeup skills to come by and start a conversation?’”
He laughed again. Gave her another high five, and she gave a wink back.
“No. But I am glad that happened. I can’t wait to see you without makeup on your chin.” This time it was he, that winked.
She gave him a gentle punch on the arm. And that got a laugh from him and a giggle from her.
“Well…? “
“Well, I went backstage too. In fact, I think we are talking about the same couple. Was your date named Danny Farley? “
“Yes. “ But this time there was steel in her voice. “How do you know that? Do I know you? No. I would have remembered someone like you. Or at least your truck. It is pretty. “ She patted the truck like it was a beloved dog. And he smiled again.
No. I only know Danny from a baseball team we played on in ninth grade. We were never friends. ( A pause, his voice hardened) and we sure won’t be now. That girl you saw was my Fiancé up until about an hour ago. Did you know her? “
Somehow her hand found his. They sat for a few minutes, holding hands quietly on his truck. She spoke again:
“No. I don’t go to Jefferson. I go to Bayside. I met Danny a year ago at a dance down by the beach. We have been going steady ever since. He invited me to his Prom. Over at Bayside, we don’t have a Prom until the Middle of June. I thought it would be fun to go to two Proms. (her face became what could only be called wry) I was wrong. “
This time Quincy did not speak. He just used his other hand to bring her close- it was the gentlest, safest, and wonderful hug she had ever felt. so she snuggled into it, and let the tears fall. A moment later, she realized it wasn’t raining, those were HIS tears cascading down her face to join the wet spots she was leaving on his crumpled shirt. She looked up at him, he looked down at her:
“Let me know when I stop looking like a raccoon that fell in a creek with his makeup on.” That was all it took. They both laughed so hard, that her dress slippery dress pulled her off the hood of the truck. She pulled him right off the truck too. A moment later they were standing in an embrace that shook with laughter. A moment later, and they had their first kiss. That kiss left smears of make up, lipstick, and even a petal or two on both their faces. It made them both laugh harder, and brought on yet another kiss. She took his handkerchief and wiped off most of the mascara, but the lipstick, stuck.
“Want to go to the Prom with me?” Quincy asked,
“This one? “ And she gestured towards the gym.
“Yes. And yours in June too.”
“Okay. But we have to get cleaned up first. “
“No problem, I have bottled water and a towel in the truck. We will clean up , then go inside.”
As the walked back into the gym, she squeezed his hand stopping him in the hallway.
“We have to do one thing first, before we dance.”
“What is that?”
"We have to find Danny and your ex.”
“Why?”
“Why to thank them for the Best Prom Ever!”
She laughed as he swung her around in a giant circle.
“It is, isn’t it?”
Her kiss was the only answer he needed.
Everyone thought it was cute, four years later, when their wedding theme was Prom Night.
Prom Night.(Kevin Hughes)
He sat quietly in the parking lot, perched on the hood of his truck, his feet braced lightly on the bumper. He was so still that the occasional couple wandering into the gym never noticed him sitting there in the dark. His mind was anything but still. It was reeling in shock, his emotions, like his hormones- were raging- as they would be for any eighteen year old who caught his Prom Date, necking back stage behind the curtains with her dress pulled off the supple curves of her upper body. The hands exploring those curves should have been his. They were not.
It was Danny Farley’s hands that were caressing the soft mounds of exposed flesh, searching for the areas not often seen by the sun. Her hands were not idle either, as they were busy discovering where zipper and cumber bun part ways. Their hands were moving expertly, a bit hurriedly maybe, but with the skill and familiarity of having been there before. It was the confidence of those caresses, the intimacy, the urgency, that convinced him that Danny and her, had performed this search and please mission before. So he cleared his throat, just before the insistent fingers of her right hand, pulled the zipper from out under the cumber bun- fingers that wore not Danny’s ring, but his.
Danny, her, and two sets of hands froze in place at the sound of that almost gentle “eh hem.” They thought one of the Chaperone’s had caught them, and they would be kicked out of the dance. In the darkness it took them a second to realize it wasn’t a Chaperone- it was him. Her Fiancé - Quincy. She heard the quick intake of Danny’s breath, the fear that was in that silent inwards breath- her own gasp was filled with the same fear. Danny had seen what Quincy could do when the three thugs back in Tenth Grade accosted Quincy’s Mom in a parking lot mugging. Two of those thugs remember little of that night, or anything else for that matter.
One punch from Quincy’s huge hands had separated their cognitive abilities, along with their speech - both of them, the ones that had hist Quincy’s Mom with brass knuckles breaking both her jaw and eye socket- were left by Quincy’s punch as little more than vegetables. Vegetables that remained moist in their own constant drool, and required institutional care. The third thug, well, he only got a broken arm, a broken jaw, and a broken eye socket. Unlike Quincy’s Mom, who healed completely after seven months of rehab, and four surgeries- but still had a deep fear of parking lots- even in broad daylight, the third thug walked with a limp, and still saw double. It had been two years since Quincy delivered that beating to the three thugs.
All of that, the trial, the publicity, and the fact that Quincy was only fifteen at the time, (and much much smaller than the Quincy standing in front of him) flashed through Danny’s petrified mind- her mind was as mired in fear as Danny’s. Because Quincy was a minor, and his Mom was still in recovery when she was wheeled into testify in the deposition - charges were dropped, and the Self- defense clause was ruled believable- even if the damage a fifteen year old with no brass knuckles had done to three twenty year old thugs was not. All Quincy remembered was seeing them hit his Mom, and her first horrible scream. It woke him up in the back seat of the car where he had been sleeping.
It must have seemed to the Thugs that some kind of Demon had sprung from that door - one dispensing destruction with every blow. The blind fury of an elemental, not a human, as he pummeled them into senselessness. Some part of his mind held back from the Third thug, because that one did not his his Mom, otherwise, none of the three would have been able to make a statement. Not that one was needed. The security camera showed the carnage in any speed you chose. No matter which speed you chose, your eyes refused to believe anything human could move that fast, hit that hard, and think that fast. And Danny and her had both seen that tape.
Quincy just stood there. It must have been a minute, maybe more, before either Danny or her, could take another fear saturated breath. Neither noticed the warm liquid trickling down their thighs…for it wasn’t the wet stick perfumed fluids they were working on just a few moments ago- it was their own urine that stained one set of tuxedo pants, and the silk brocade of a Prom Dress. Still… no one spoke. No one moved.
Quincy put out a giant hand- open and flat - moving it slowly towards her- as if you were trying to entice a wild animal, or shy dog, to come nearer…when that giant hand (still open, to the relief of both Danny and her) stopped just an inch from her still glistening body, the tan lines that ringed her breasts, and the much lower tan line that peeked over the waistline of the crumpled dress were visible to him, to Danny, to herself- and that is when shame first showed up. Not as a thought, but as a red blush, and a feeble attempt to cover her body with the crinoline covered sash of her dress- one look from Quincy - and her hands, feeble as they were moving, dropped back down to sink into her lap like sunken trash.
It was then that Quincy spoke the last words that either Danny or her would hear from him:
“Give me the ring. Don’t ever call. Don’t ever say hello to me- either of you. Ever.”
She slipped the ring off her finger, washing it clean with the tears that were falling now like some biblical prophecy of old. She placed into those strong hands- hands that once loved her, but never explored to the extent that Danny’s hands did. For Quincy was the kind of boy (and now, to late, she realized - man) who you married, not the kind who excited you into passionate trysts in secret locations. The almost edible delight of being deliciously dangerous, exciting and the knife edge chance of being caught was what drove the passion of a cheating Danny and her. It was, she thought, a mistake. Only that thought came to late. She thought like every other time, she could twist the truth to cover her ten or fifteen minute absences from dances, or her supposed : “I am not feeling good tonight, I am going to just stay home. You understand, don’t you? “ Then she would kiss Quincy lightly on the lips, and see that shy smile appear on his face. “Of course, get some rest. See you tomorrow.”
Never knowing on the other side of the door stood Danny, as hard as the wood in the door frame, with just about the same amount of sense. It turned both Danny and her on, often they were furiously pounding in a sweaty meaty embrace before they even heard his truck leave the driveway. It made them both eager, both hungry for smooth skin, and wet lips- and their secret delight in - once again- duping poor Quincy - made their bodies hair trigger responsive. It was only later, the second or third time that night, that they could slow down enough to let their passion cool. Only then would a just a shadow of shame, just a mere wisp , color their thoughts , but only for a moment.
And so it was that Quincy sat on his truck. He didn’t know how she was getting home, or what Danny’s date to the Prom would do, when Danny showed up with another girl in tow who needed a ride home. He didn’t care. He was calming down now. The last three years were a lie. And like most lies, the truth simply buries them- and it is over. He wished them well, in a weird way. They meant nothing to him now. Her, especially. He had sat in the quiet long enough to erase any memory of her that held even a smidgen of decent loving laughter. Without laughter, no relationship memory can survive.
Quincy would call his Mom and tell her simply: “I am not engaged anymore. It didn’t work out.” And his Mother knew that was the only explanation she would get. Others would not even get that much out of Quincy. If asked by the few people who knew him well enough to ask (which was a very small number) he would just say: “ It’s over.” And they would know not to ask for details. For they would never get them …at least not from him.
So he never noticed the girl in the emerald green gown, her beautiful shoes held by the straps( loosely )in her one hand- instead of being on her feet. Nor did he notice the smeared mascara on her fact, or the flowers that were torn and shredded cascading down the front of her dress, a few clinging to her hair as if to rest for a moment. HIs eyes were open but his closed heart stopped him from seeing anything. It wasn’t until he heard her voice, that his vision returned.
“Okay if I join you? It looks like this Prom sucks as much for you, as it did for me.”
“Sure. “ He put out a giant hand, and pulled her gently in one long gentle pull onto the hood of his truck. Somehow she pirouetted in the air, sliding next to him with her dress gathered under her, as if they had practiced that move a thousand times. He smiled at her grace and smoothness, and she smiled recognition of that compliment back at him. He took a look at her face, now close enough to see the damage that hard sobs do to a woman’s eye shadow, mascara, and blush. He took out his handkerchief, offering it to her like it was a corsage.
“Thank- you.” She took it and began wiping in curious little dabs around her eyes and cheeks. He studied how sure those movements were, how delicate, yet purposeful each dab was. She saw him studying her, turned to look right at him:
“Let me know when I don’t look like a raccoon that fell into a creek.”
He couldn’t help it. He laughed.
“If you look like a raccoon, you have to be the prettiest raccoon that ever lived.”
He wasn’t surprised that he said it, he was just surprised that he said it out loud. It was not surprise to him , or her, that he meant it.
“I bet you say that to every girl who sits on the hood of your car in a wrinkled dress, dripping makeup and wearing what is left of a torn corsage. On Prom night too. “
He laughed again.
“No. Your the first girl I ever met on Prom night. You know, because this is my first Prom. “
This time she laughed. It was not a shy laugh, but a comfortable one. A laugh that let them both know they were hiding tears just inches below that laugh.
“So, want to tell me what happened?”
“Oh, nothing dramatic. My date told me he had to go to the Bathroom. After about twenty minutes I wen’t looking for him- because if he was in the bathroom that long, he would need some help.” Again they both smiled.
When I found him, he was backstage with some girl. She had her dress half off, and was leaning on his shoulder crying like she had just seen death come for her. He was as pale as a Vampire- there was no color in his skin, and his face had that look you see sometimes at car wrecks or tragedies- you know that kind of shock like look says you just missed death. When they turned to look at me- I just told him: “You suck. I will find my own way home. Maybe that is why he was so pale, Vampires suck!”
He laughed again. They gave each other a hearty high five slap.
“What about you? Why is a tall dark and handsome stranger sitting on the hood of a truck in the parking lot? Were you just waiting for girls in emerald dresses with lousy mousy makeup skills to come by and start a conversation?’”
He laughed again. Gave her another high five, and she gave a wink back.
“No. But I am glad that happened. I can’t wait to see you without makeup on your chin.” This time it was he, that winked.
She gave him a gentle punch on the arm. And that got a laugh from him and a giggle from her.
“Well…? “
“Well, I went backstage too. In fact, I think we are talking about the same couple. Was your date named Danny Farley? “
“Yes. “ But this time there was steel in her voice. “How do you know that? Do I know you? No. I would have remembered someone like you. Or at least your truck. It is pretty. “ She patted the truck like it was a beloved dog. And he smiled again.
No. I only know Danny from a baseball team we played on in ninth grade. We were never friends. ( A pause, his voice hardened) and we sure won’t be now. That girl you saw was my Fiancé up until about an hour ago. Did you know her? “
Somehow her hand found his. They sat for a few minutes, holding hands quietly on his truck. She spoke again:
“No. I don’t go to Jefferson. I go to Bayside. I met Danny a year ago at a dance down by the beach. We have been going steady ever since. He invited me to his Prom. Over at Bayside, we don’t have a Prom until the Middle of June. I thought it would be fun to go to two Proms. (her face became what could only be called wry) I was wrong. “
This time Quincy did not speak. He just used his other hand to bring her close- it was the gentlest, safest, and wonderful hug she had ever felt. so she snuggled into it, and let the tears fall. A moment later, she realized it wasn’t raining, those were HIS tears cascading down her face to join the wet spots she was leaving on his crumpled shirt. She looked up at him, he looked down at her:
“Let me know when I stop looking like a raccoon that fell in a creek with his makeup on.” That was all it took. They both laughed so hard, that her dress slippery dress pulled her off the hood of the truck. She pulled him right off the truck too. A moment later they were standing in an embrace that shook with laughter. A moment later, and they had their first kiss. That kiss left smears of make up, lipstick, and even a petal or two on both their faces. It made them both laugh harder, and brought on yet another kiss. She took his handkerchief and wiped off most of the mascara, but the lipstick, stuck.
“Want to go to the Prom with me?” Quincy asked,
“This one? “ And she gestured towards the gym.
“Yes. And yours in June too.”
“Okay. But we have to get cleaned up first. “
“No problem, I have bottled water and a towel in the truck. We will clean up , then go inside.”
As the walked back into the gym, she squeezed his hand stopping him in the hallway.
“We have to do one thing first, before we dance.”
“What is that?”
"We have to find Danny and your ex.”
“Why?”
“Why to thank them for the Best Prom Ever!”
She laughed as he swung her around in a giant circle.
“It is, isn’t it?”
Her kiss was the only answer he needed.
Everyone thought it was cute, four years later, when their wedding theme was Prom Night.
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