Caught

I was supposed to be at the party. Instead I was parking.

It was my senior year. A good friend of mine was living with us at the time because her family had moved for a new job and  it was her senior year. Who wants to move their senior year? Not me. And not her. So she was living with us.(That's an important part of the story...later.)

A guy from school was having a party at his house and my boyfriend and I went...briefly. We had every intention of staying. But being hormonal and all our intentions changed and we opted on ditching the party, finding a back road and sucking face.

We went somewhere really romantic, you know, an old, wet, dirty back road that lead to a natural gas well. It was muddy, stinky...but it was deserted. Perfect.

Kiss kiss...talk...kiss kiss. Etc. Etc. Etc. About an hour later, we decide we should head back home, you know, it being midnight and all. As we were driving down the road, I see my parents' car heading toward the party house. The place I was not.  Busted. Crap!

"Get out of the car!" I tell him. And out he jumped. If only my children would obey that quickly. I sped home, hoping...no, I'm pretty sure I was praying...that my parents didn't know I had skipped out on the party. Because if they figured that  part out....well, the rest was no secret.

 What I didn't know was that my friend had come home on time...without me. When asked where I was, she told them I was still at the party playing volleyball or something. Not fully convinced, my dad called the party house and the younger sister answered. She informed him I had, in fact left the party hours earlier.

I snuck in the door, tiptoed to my room where my friend also slept. But sleeping she was not. Her face was white and she looked as scared as I felt.

"Do they know?" I asked.

Before she could answer, my mom appeared in my doorway, nostrils flaring, smoke coming out her ears, doing all she can to keep calm. "To the living room...now!" she gritted.

My stomach dropped. My palms began to sweat and I started to cry...because that's what I do. I cry. And cry, I did. It might not have been so bad if it had been Dad who was in my doorway. He was a little more controlled, a little more tender...a little less scary. Mom was more emotional, and blunt and explosive (in a non-violent way).

Mom let into me...as she should have...for about 5 minutes. I couldn't lie, because I didn't know how much they knew and I didn't know if she would know I was lying. So I told the truth. Yes, we had left the party. Yes we were alone. Yes, there was kissing involved. No, nothing like that happened.

By the time Dad got home, I was bawling, Mom was venting and I am sure everyone in the house was listening intently from the back rooms. Once Dad was there and helped take things down a notch or two we were able to talk.  By the end of it all, they were telling me about times they had gotten caught doing similar things.

I can't say I never parked after that.

But I can say I never got caught.