“No prom, Mommy. No dancing,” Sam protested. “Come on,” I bartered. “They will have chocolate cake.” Sam dug his heels in, “No prom! NO PROM! Shirt is too tight. Take off bow tie. Is too tight. Take off belt.”
“Oh, Sammy,” I said. “You look so handsome.” With that, he flashed a small smile and withheld further protest. Within minutes, we were on our way to Sam's prom.
Sam entered the room of the Bedford function room anxiously. A quick glance counted three girls to the fifteen plus boys from Sam's school. Not good male to female odds. Then I heard the girl in the lovely red gown wouldn’t dance because her date had not come. That left two available girls. Looks like you’ll be dancing with me tonight, I thought.
I hadn’t counted on the magic of the night.
About halfway through the evening, the girl in the red gown rose and walked purposefully across the dance floor. Those on the floor seemed to part as she made her way to Sam and stopped. She was stunning. Sam’s red bow tie, cummerbund and boutonniere complimented her ensemble perfectly.
Silently she took Sam’s hand to dance. He instinctively stood as she placed her red-gloved hand on his shoulder. They danced. And danced again. His earlier anxiety melted away. Was it this girl? A sense of belonging? The chocolate cake?
Then came an unexpected moment: She stood on her toes and pulled Sam’s face down to hers and kissed him. Sam smiled sweetly as they continued to dance. And just for a moment, as everyone watched, they were just two teens at a prom.
There was one more kiss. And the night ended. Like many fairy tales, the magic was only destined to last that night. By Monday, the girl in the red gown confessed all to her boyfriend at school. Sam settled back into tee shirts and basketball and life went on as before. Still, there remains the beauty of a moment and memories of an enchanted night.
The other night I overheard Sam say, “Sam dance at the prom. He kiss-ted the girl. Red lips.” Yes, you did, I confirmed while acknowledging the sad truth the romance was over.
But as I said to Sam, you’ll always have Paris… um… Bedford. And that is more than we could have ever hoped for.
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