Tennessee Waltz

         

         

         

Tennessee Waltz

I agreed to take Sharon to the dance, and everything was fine until a week before the dance. I would like to blame it all on her little sister. The brat had heard a tale about me from some of her friends, and naturally, she blabbed to Sharon. When I called the Monday night before the dance, Sharon informed me that our Friday dance date was off! I called on Tuesday, and the brat informed me that she was studying and couldn't come to the phone. On Wednesday and the brat said she was studying and wouldn't come to the phone. The next evening, the brat snapped at me, "Stop calling!" Not one to let well enough alone, I called on Thursday. At last, she wasn't studying, but she wasn't happy either. The dance date was back on because her mother had insisted. Mother had made her a green taffeta dress, and it was not going to spend the dance hanging in the closet!

The brat opened the door on my first knock, stuck the tip of her tongue at me, and ran out of the kitchen, nearly knocking her mother down. Sharon followed her mother into the kitchen. She and the dress were beautiful. The green accented her strawberry blond hair, and the top of the dress was in accordance with the dictates of the nuns that ran the girls' school ... no cleavage! The ride to the dance was chilly, even though it was a warm autumn evening. It went downhill from there. At the dance, we sat at an empty table along the wall, and she started to unload on me as she tapped her pale pink polished nails on the table.

"Did you have to do that to Sister Nordeen?"

I shrugged. "Oh, the breathalyzer in the black and white uniform has a name?"

"Bad enough that you exhaled into her face the way you did, but hiccupping was absolutely unconscionable! You did that at the last dance, and it is getting old."

"I just wanted to let her know I don't drink, that's all."

"You! Don't drink? What about last Friday night at the Western Bar? We had a date ... remember? Some date! Mother and I had to come and get you and dad. You guys weren't sober enough to walk, let alone drive. Do you know how embarrassed I was to have to come and get you?"

"Your dad had more to drink than I did."

"He's Mom's problem. We are not discussing him!" Her voice hissed. "I'm talking about you!"

"Hey, he bought a coupla, I bought one, he bought a coupla more and the time slipped away."

Shaking her head, "The way you drink at what ... seventeen? I hate to think what you will be like when you're twenty-one, the town drunk?"

"I ... The band started playing. "You want to dance? That's the reason we came, right?"

Sighing as she stood, "I suppose."

We danced more than the 'no-touch' distance apart, which made the nuns were happy. I wasn't. We hardly talked. Near the end of the first set, she indicated she had had enough dancing with me. As we sat at our table, a buddy of mine from the neighborhood and his date, Julie, joined us at our table. He and I made the introductions. Then Mike monopolized the conversation and Sharon. As the band started to play the final set, he asked me if he could dance with my date. "Sure," I said. "She doesn't want to dance with me." Without asking her permission, I agreed he could dance with Sharon. The pointy toe of her shoe drilled through the side of my Wellington boot and sparked my anklebone. They stood and danced away to the tune of the Tennessee Waltz and didn't return until the lights came up, and the school dance ended.

The plan was to have my Dad pick us up after the dance and take us to the after- dance party at Sue Jacobsen's home; Then pick us up in time to get her home before her 11 o'clock curfew. Mike asked if we wanted to ride with him. His car, he said, was fresh outta the repair shop.

"You three live downtown," Sharon said. "Take me home first."

At her backdoor, "I want to have a chat with you." I'd hoped to have a chance to resolve whatever was bothering Sharon. Her curt G'night shoots down that plan. The slamming of the backdoor sealed it!

The next day, I heard that Mike and Sharon had a good time at Sue Jacobsen's party.