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At the start, there was nothing special about that Tuesday night except for the fact that we were all together, though that was generally par for the course at that point in our lives. We�d been to the Behan for beers and ciders, except for Adam, who was going through that weird stage of ordering white zinfandel in inappropriate places. The walk home was short and the spirits were high.
Walking back into the house, I decided I was hungry. Laughing off your surprisingly responsible �it�s 1:30 on a Wednesday morning and you have to be up in four and a half hours� logic, I went to the kitchen and started making nachos. The whole production: chips, refried beans, cheddar cheese, tomatoes and sour cream. While they were heating, someone grabbed more drinks. The stereo went on. The CD in the player was the Pulp Fiction soundtrack, as it had been for days.
When Dusty Springfield�s voice drifted out, I hit �repeat� on the player and danced back to the kitchen�s wooden floor. Adam grabbed my hand and spun me around, dipping me low to the floor. Everyone else, you included, joined us. The laughter rose. Jim came down, angry that we�d woken him up, but ended up smiling. The dancing continued, partners switching back and forth. The song played over and over. The revelry went on and on.
Finally, we stopped, out of breath but happy. Someone turned the stereo down while someone else picked up the empty bottles. I started rinsing the nacho plates and stacking them in the dishwasher. You walked up behind me and leaned over, your breath caressing my neck as you spoke softly into my ear. �Okay, young lady, it�s time for bed.� As I protested that there were more dishes to rinse, you picked me up and carried me over the threshold and up the stairs. Laughing, I waved to the kitchen stragglers as you transported me to your room, depositing me on your bed and mock scolding me as you set the alarm.
I slept with my arms wrapped tightly around you, smiling as Dusty sang through my dreams.
The next day, as predicted, was rough. Too little sleep, combined with too much late night food and drink, left me ill prepared to deal with my responsibilities. I had no complaints or regrets, though. My workday was long. The following weeks brought their own troubles. We didn�t have that easy a night for a big stretch. Less than a month later, she was in your arms while I saw the new year in waiting for the bathroom to be free. The rumblings of all these things were in the air when we went to the Behan that Tuesday night.
None of it mattered for a few short hours, though. The snacks, the drinks, the friends, the dancing and your arms around me were the important parts.
For the rest of my life, that night will be frozen in my head. Adam calls it a moment of �unadulterated non-terseness.� I just call it perfect.
Thank you.
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