PARTY OVER HERE!

"I can't believe you're going over to Miss Turner's house for the lawn party with me," Pete said. "There will be a bunch of girls there and some from out of town."

Pete was my best friend. He was always there when I needed him. It's trite to say that he was there through thick and thin, but it was the truth. I tried to live up to being his friend, but I think I failed miserably. Still, we did everything together, including going to parties where I danced with the walls.

"I don't know why I continually let you talk me into going to these parties even though I want to go, but sometimes I wonder, what for? All of my relationships end up in the funny papers or leave me feeling like someone shot me in the stomach," I said.

"Man, you have to let that shit go. I know Janna slammed the door on you and so did Tanya, but that doesn't mean you have to stop living," Pete encouraged. "Those were just bumps in the road."

"Yeah, I guess you're right, but it still hurt nonetheless. But, in some ways, I'm glad Janna is gone. There's no more guessing why she's mad. No more jealousy about any girl that speaks to me and best of all, no more crying about nothing," I said.

Pete saw me driving down the road of self-pity and quickly changed the subject. We were headed to a party and I was actually looking forward to it. I just got off track thinking about a couple of past relationships, which now after some quick reflection I actually found some humor in them.

"Man, they've got lawn decked out," Pete said. "I came past Miss Turner's on my way to get ready. It was barely dark and there were plenty of people there already."

Yard parties were fun and curious. Young and old attended with kids as young as five mixing with their elders of 70 and older. Whoever held the party would hang up strings of colored light bulbs mounted on poles above the ground and arranged in a square or rectangle in the backyard. The grass would be freshly mowed and raked. Usually, just outside the square of lights a 45-rpm record player sat on a card table to provide music. The table was also the same place that held the punch in a five-gallon crock. Some adults brought their own punch.

"It looks like we've got a nice crowd," Pete said.

That was good for Pete because he was a talented dancer and even better conversationalist. Everyone liked Pete. When we showed up at a party, everyone our age flocked to Pete. He tried to include me in the fun, but no one is attracted to a corpse.

"Jimmy Lee. You lookin' awful dapper this evening," Wilson Henderson said to me. Wilson was also a good friend. He wasn't as close as Pete, but I still counted him as a staunch ally.

"That's about it for me," I laughed at myself. "But, I swear I'm getting out there to dance tonight. Someone is going to know they danced with Jimmy Lee Washington," I said, and laughed to myself knowing it wasn't going to happen.

Wilson disappeared and I stood by the punch bowl and protected the record player. I stood there for nearly a half an hour before I noticed a young woman off to the side of the dance area at the edge of the light. I couldn't see her plainly, but decided to watch her. Several young men approached her, but they left almost as soon as they got there. I kept watching until I made up my mind to introduce myself and see where it went from there. I knew it could be a real short trip.

"Hi, I'm Jimmy Lee Washington," I said.

She jumped as if I had scared her, which was not out of the question considering the party was held in darkness except for the colored lights. I had already started on the wrong foot.

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," I said.

"You did give me stir me for a moment, but I'm alright now," she said.

"Would you mind if I started over," I asked.

"I don't see how that could hurt," she smiled and laughed.

She had me at that moment. For me, her smile was electric. Nut-brown skin and gleaming white teeth almost made it difficult for me to break contact with her hazel eyes.

"As I was trying to say, I'm Willie Lee Washington, but most of my friends just call me 'Wash'," I said.

"Well Wash, I'm Sarah Hampton," she said. "It's a pleasure to meet you."

I had no more words. I spent them all just making my introduction. Thinking quickly I asked lamely,

"I haven't seen you around here before. Where are you from."

"I'm from St. Paul," she answered.

"What are you doing here besides coming to a party," I asked.

"I always come to see my aunt every summer," she said. "At first, after you introduced yourself, I thought you came to ask me to dance."

"I never made it that far. That's something I thought I might ask you after standing here boring you for a few minutes," I said. "I saw those guys coming over here and leaving so quickly, I figured you weren't dancing."

"That's about right, but it didn't have anything to do with them personally," she said. "It's because this is the very spot where my uncle was killed. Every time I come here in the summer I always stand out here and hold a private moment for him."

We stood there in silence standing on the slight rise and looking at the dancers. For some reason I felt totally comfortable with this girl that I'd known for all of 20 minutes. As we stood there watching the party below we inched closer together until we were touching. Without looking down, I took her hand and held it lightly.

"Would you like to dance," I asked. Then I heard the Flamingos singing "I Only Have Eyes for You" playing and immediately wished I had kept my mouth shut. Women rarely danced with men they didn't know on a slow song.

"Why not," she said.

We walked down the slight incline and joined on the newly mowed grass. She held me like she'd known me for years and I did the same. I remember wrapping my arm around her and touching myself feeling swept away in the moment. We danced several more songs and went back up to the knoll.

We stood there watching until she squeezed my hand tightly. I was hoping I didn't read that signal the wrong way, but taking a chance I leaned forward a kissed her softly.

That was the beginning of a great summer and a romance that continued for 30 years until cancer took her away from me. I was sad, but I was also grateful to have had so many years with her. Sometimes, I walk into the closet just to smell her perfume. Memories of that night on the hill still pleasantly haunt me.