A Bomb of a Prom

Kristin, our youngest daughter, is in a flurry right now, prepping for her Senior Prom. This is a milestone for us as a family, the final time we will navigate the dress-buying, hair-styling, accessorizing, make-up, transpo, ticket-buying, flower-deciding, photo-snapping and post-dance gauntlet.

Whew!

It brought to mind my own high school proms.

In general, I had a meh-time at most of them. I found school dances to be an awful lot of fuss over not much of anything, and that was the days way before guys were expected to wow a girl with a truly memorable (and Insta-worthy) promposal.

But my Junior Prom.

Oh, my Junior Prom....

I will keep her name to myself out of a sense of discretion that maybe she has matured since those days. I certainly hope so. I shall, for the purposes of relating this tale, call her Toni Kathcart.

I believe I had a math class with Toni. And that I sat near her. And that in the course of the semester, we struck up a good friendship.

And in the run-up to the Junior Prom, it was made known to both of us that neither she nor I had a date.

So I asked. And she accepted. And she made me aware of a post-prom party at the home of a friend of her's.

Fine. Great.

Prom night came, and everything went off without a hitch. I picked her up. We went to the school gym and navigated our way through the crepe paper decorations. Picture staged (hand here, flowers there) and taken. Onto the dance floor. Dined on cafeteria cuisine. Pretty much business as usual for a Junior Prom.

Things really didn't jump the tracks until after the dance was over.

I drove her to the party. Parked the car on the street. Walked with her up to the door. And right before she went to ring the bell, she turned to me.

"Well, thanks. I had a great time."

"Huh?"

"Well, I'm going in..."

"And?"

And her next words have stayed with me to this day:

"Well, I was invited to this party. But you weren't."

And in she went.

And I stood on the stoop for a moment. Partly to catch my breath. Partly to pick up the shattered pieces of my soul before turning around and heading back to the car.

We never spoke again. Math class unspooled for the rest of the year, and we ignored each other. Senior year came and went. And we graduated and went our separate ways.

I, of course, got married to someone lovely and caring and considerate and funny and wise... someone who would never do anything like eviscerate another human being on the doorstep of a complete stranger.

And Toni? I have no idea. I'd like to think she has matured a lot since those days, or at least developed a compassionate heart.

And if she's married with kids and has a son who sheepishly asks a math classmate to the Junior Prom.

Well, I at least hope he gets better treatment than I did.