The 4:00 A.M. Walk
©Hector Lee, 2008
My mom was a little skeptical about letting me go to the slumber party since she had not met the girl who was giving it. But I assured her that all the girls invited were reputable classmates. Satisfied with the key word, reputable, and my long, fifteen-year history as an “honest” child, she easily conceded.
There were at least a dozen girls at this party; among them were two of my closest friends. The party meandered through the evening with the usual trappings of a girls’ slumber party. Sandy, with her bouffant hairstyle and penciled eyebrows, was gossiping about the sleazy people Darla was dating. Maudie, muscular and taut, was showing off her gymnastic achievements, which she hoped would help her win the coveted junior cheerleader slot. And Sherry, batting her thick eye lashes and tossing her curly hair, was on one of her favorite tirades: “Larry Peel lost the best thing in his life when he broke up with me.” No one seemed to notice that Nancy S. and Nancy L. and I were often huddled on the sofa, occasionally being very serious and sometimes snickering. Our ‘secret’ had been hatched earlier on that hot, Texas day, which was why we were so eager for our parents’ permission to come to the party. Throughout the evening, large quantities of potato chips, dip, and Coke were consumed. If a girl found her Coke bottle had been filled to the brim with crushed chips, in order to save face, she had to make an attempt to find out who had done such an “immature” thing, although most of these antics were taken in a good spirit. Johnny Mathis, the Righteous Brothers, Ricky Nelson, and others provided the musical background of our lives that evening.
“Do you think these people will ever go to sleep?” questioned Nancy S.
“I don’t know,” replied Nancy L., “but it’s getting close to 4 o’clock. If we don’t make our move soon, it will be too light to leave.”
“I’m afraid Rosemary’s parents will hear us when we slip out of the house,” I whispered, my heart pounding.
“Not it we go out the back door; their bedroom is on the other side of the back yard,” retorted Nancy S.
We did not have long to wait; shortly after 4:00 A.M., everyone seemed to be in deep sleep. We slipped out of the house cautiously and began our trek. The familiar neighborhood streets took on eeriness at this time of the day. More than once we scampered to a nearby hedge when we saw headlights of an approaching car. On the other hand, the streetlights, casting their pool of luminescence, felt safe and welcomed. The blocks seemed to inch by as we nervously walked, suppressing our giggles and whispering our fears of getting caught. Our bare feet would sometimes catch on the uneven pavement or skid across loose stones, at which times a shriek of pain would be uttered, and the other two would hush the one making the noise, reminding her that people might hear us. A shadow would dart in front of us, paralyzing our steps until we could see that it was only a cat, making the rounds of the darkened neighborhood. The lone howl of someone’s Beagle sent chill bumps up our spines. Well-manicured lawns and sculptured hedges were draped in black shadows, giving us a sense of foreboding.
We arrived shortly before dawn at Steve’s house. Freddy, Benny, and Steve were sleeping in the backyard in their sleeping bags, as previously arranged. Opening the cyclone fence gate, a high-pitched whine cracked the silence of the early dawn. We froze with fear, our breaths held, terrified that we might awake Steve’s parents. Since Steve was the only child of over-protective, militarily-strict parents, we did not want to risk the wrath and humiliation that his parents might heap on us. Two minutes of stillness stretched into two years. Breathing a sigh of relief when no sounds came from within the house, we rushed over to our sleeping heroes. With a bit of tickling, hair tousling, and a few kisses slipped in between, they awoke. We sat there on the cool, dew-kissed grass that summer morning, oh so long ago, and the words tumbled rapidly from our mouths about the slumber party, the girls that were there, how we had made our “escape,” and our adventurous walk to their house. The air was pungent with gardenia bushes, freshly mowed grass, and the drift of cigarette smoke from Freddy’s Camel. The boys listened eagerly, occasionally interrupting our drama with questions about the party gossip, or wanting a more detailed account of “who-liked-who.” Steve, the best friend of Larry Peel, snickered at Sherry’s earlier remark at the party, for he knew the reasons behind Larry’s “dumping” of Sherry. They teased us, in hushed tones, about our silly fears of the dark, and our descriptions of how haunting some of the hedges appeared.
As the sky began to lighten, all of us knew our secret time was over. We quickly schemed to rendezvous at the pool at 1:00 P.M. that same day. With plans made, we hurriedly, and passionately, kissed our beaus good-bye. The success of our little venture filled our young bodies as we darted through the early morning, back to the house where the slumber party was still slumbering.
©Peggy Heathcock, 2008
Peggy Heathcock, BAWP 1998, has recently retired from 35 years of teaching. For the past 30 years she taught at Albany Middle School. For activities in retirement besides writing, Peggy is looking forward to being a Bay Area Tourist, gardening, gourmet cooking, reading, traveling with her husband, and spending time with her four adult children.
moormac@sbcglobal.net
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