Existentialism on Prom Night

Prom. Also known as, in my humble opinion, the lovechild of torment and pure evil.1

And I was going.2

Sure, it was all paid for (Charlie bought the tickets after saving up for six months, and my best friend Shelby bought the dress since she was going to be vacationing in the Bahamas for the two weeks overlapping prom night) and I got to get my hair and nails and make up done, but it wasn't really my style.3

Still, my wonderful, sweet boyfriend Charlie wanted me to go, so it wasn't like I could say no. He sure as hell was not going without me.4

As I stood in the master bathroom of our two-story house, I stared at my reflection in the full length mirror, trying to figure out what to make of my appearance. I was wearing pink, something I rarely did, showing leg AND wearing heels (sure to be disasterous with my three left feet), also things I rarely did. The hair dresser, manicurist, and makeup lady did a great job, I had to say. My brownish red hair was up and curly and fancy, my makeup darker that I could have known I would like, my nails fake and flawless. I liked it, but it was just weird. Not your typical, plain-Jane, everyday Samantha.5

I heard the doorbell and my heart instantly raced. I hoped nothing rediculous would happen, like him show up on a Harley in jeans and a leather jacket and remind me that it was biker themed or something. That would be my luck, or my bad karma kicking my ass for not paying attention to the annoying woman who read the bulletin over the PA every morning.6

My mom called me down, and I headed slowly down the stairs. Heel, ball, heel, ball. Yes, that was how to walk in three inch heels... I think.7

Charlie was already there, and he had one of those flower things for my wrist in a plastic carton. He was wearing a black suit and a black tie with a pink vest (shelby must've told him what color I was wearing, because I hadn't been smart enough to think about it), and his brown hair was slicked back in a handsome, James Bond kind of way. Thank God he wasn't dressed like a biker.8

"Hi," I said, and he was silent. He just stared at me. Mom excused herself to go get the camera while his eyes stayed glued to me.9

Then he looked down at my fancy shoes and stared at them.10

“What?” His silence was starting to creep me out. Did I honestly look that bad? I’d always thought Shelby's choice was a little too Prada/Gucci for me, but she’d nagged me until I agreed. Besides, I’d though at the time of purchase, it’s not like I’m gonna wear them to school or anything.11

I love irony, but only in books. What was this, the mime prom? Was he supposed to stay silent or something? I'll bet he was pondering whether or not heels could be responsible for charging someone with manslaughter if worn incorrectly or by a total spaz,such as myself.12

"Okay, okay, I'll change th-" I started to turn around, but Charlie caught my hand.13

"No."14

I turned back around, and he looked like he was in awe. I wasn't used to him giving me that dreamy-eyed look, it was more the other way around usually. Charlie was gorgeous. Way too gorgeous for me, but I sure as hell wasn't complaining.15

"You look absolutely beautiful," he said finally, his voice soft and full of honesty.16

I stared at him, puzzled, wondering if I had imagined him saying that. It had been known to happen on occasion.17

"I do?"18

I do? What the heck kind of response is that?19

He smiled. "You do."20

I smiled back as my mom came in with the camera.21

"Oh, goodness, you guys, I thought you'd have the corsage and the boutonnière on by now." She went into the kitchen and got the flower lapel thing out of the fridge and handed it to me.22

We somehow fastened them on each other (though I stabbed him twice with the pin), and then I leaned against him, his arms around my waist as my mom angled the camera and got it focused. I smiled brightly, wanting the picture to at least look good in hopes that it would reflect somehow how the night went. It was already going well, thanks to Charlie just being Charlie.23

I wondered, as I stood there, up against Charlie's chest with his arms around me, if when I looked at that picture in the later years of my life, I would be looking at it and thinking "there's my husband" or "that was the greatest night of my life." I wondered if this pink dress would stay carefully tucked inside it's plastic sleeve at the side of my closet for the rest of my life. I wondered how long the white roses on my corsage would live. I wondered about a lot of things.24

And then Charlie smiled down at me, took my hand and led me out the front door to his dad's truck to begin our night.