The Game

Originally Written Between 2016-2017                 

 

We’ve only had a few warm spring-like days this month.  And, I like to take advantage of them when we get some.  So, a few days ago, I brought my coffee, the paper, and a cinnamon roll to my deck and settled in.  What a beautiful morning.  I didn’t make any noise as I watched the birds flying in and out of their birdhouses.  The warm sun felt so wonderful on my face that I actually snoozed for an hour or so.  

 

Good thing I woke up when I did because I had a busy day ahead of me.  First, I had my normal Tuesday morning art class at Anoka-Ramsey and then a late lunch with my two sisters.  The three of us live fairly close to each other and try to get together at least every six weeks or so.  We love talking about our growing-up years and reminiscing about the good old days of being teenagers.

 

We got a corner table at Olive Garden and settled in for good food and good conversation.  My older sister brought up the time the three of us were allowed to host a sleepover after the local football game.  Each of us could invite one girlfriend.  But, our parents had one rule.  You see, that particular Friday night happened to be mom and dad’s anniversary and they had tickets to see a play in St. Paul.  

 

So, we had to call each of our friends and tell them that our parents would not be home until 10:30 to chaperone the sleepover.  Well, we all figured that the football game wouldn’t be over until 9:00.  Mom and dad just wanted the other parents to know that they wouldn’t be home until an hour or so after the game.  They all gave their permission to let their girls come to our home.

 

Now, our mom knew that even though we had the best of good intentions, sometimes things just go wrong.   So, her parting words to us were, “No boys.  No boys.  No boys.  And for anything else that will get you grounded, don’t do.  Oh – and did I say, NO BOYS!”

 

Friday night came.  Our girlfriends came over and as our parents left for St. Paul, we walked over to the game.  Remember my mom saying that sometimes things go wrong?  Well, evidently, the play was….. in my mom’s words….. horrible.  They decided to leave during the intermission.  When they turned into our driveway, the headlights caught a teenaged boy talking on our phone in the living room.  Dad pulled into the garage and both mom and dad calmly walked into the kitchen and yelled our names.  

 

We didn’t answer.  They called our names again.  This time with more emphasis.  They said our first, middle, and last names.  Each one of us. They told us that everyone upstairs was to come down.  And down came Boy #1.  Boy #2.  Boy #3.  Boy #4.  And Boy #5.  Each carrying a can of Pepsi.  They came down the steps and straight out the front door.

 

Our girlfriends then came down the steps followed by “The Three Sisters Who Promised To Be Good.”  We explained that, yes, we knew we weren’t supposed to have boys in the house.  But….. what were we to do?  The boys walked us home and we were all talking and laughing outside our house and well, it got chilly and our pizza was getting cold and so we just figured they would be gone by the time mom and dad got home.

 

It’s funny, but none of us could remember what our punishment was that night.  I do know that our girlfriends were allowed to stay overnight.  And, I do know that we didn’t have any fun.  We just went upstairs and fell asleep.

 

I’m not sure if our girlfriends ever told their parents about what happened that Friday night.  I have a feeling nothing was ever said.

 

 

(Note:  The assignment for this paper was to write an article in the “words” or “style” of one of the other writer’s in our group.  I chose Ginny Jorgenson who, besides being a terrific writer, is an artist and has three sisters.  The story about the boys who stayed at the house after the football game was actually a true story about Rebecca when she was 14 or 15 years old.)