Monday, March 28, 2011

Wrong House

Most people, at one point or another, are embarrassed of their parents. I am usually humiliated by them on a regular basis for slapping Grant House’s behind at my birthday party with a ruler, passing gas and blaming it on me in the middle of the grocery store, or asking the cashier at the same store if he feels embarrassed to be bagging “feminine products.” These are the tamer of situations they have put me in. However on this particular evening of the boycotted dance, my father took his embarrassment a step further into mortification. He yelled at me and told me he was disappointed in me for breaking the law.

So let’s back up, because while this was not my first run in with the law (I had a small theft incident with some Bubblicious at age four), I am far from a criminal. In fact, in high school I could have been considered a goodie-two-shoes, Miss. I-don’t-do-anything-wrong. While my mother was highly aware that I was out toilet papering houses, my father, the lawyer, was clueless. (I knew if he knew, I would cease to be.)

After rounding up the traitors of friends who thought it was acceptable to attend Fall Formal, we attempted to cause extreme damage to Casey’s yard. I am talking, T.P., skittles, forks and shaving cream. It would have been the best prank. We even wrote Casey’s name out in the yard with shaving cream. However, there was a major misunderstanding that none of us had looked into. The difference between a street name ending in court and in circle in this case was the difference between trashing Casey’s yard and a stranger’s yard…whoops! (We found this out the morning after.)

Driving back from our mission felt devious and exciting. I was high on adrenaline, then my cell phone rang. My mother, “Come home now!” Mr. I-don’t-break-the-law was furious because I had participated in part of an illegal activity. (I saw you with those fireworks on New Years…illegal!)

As my two girl friends arrived home with me to spend the night, we were greeted by my Dad. “Laurie, where were you?” I simply said, “Out.”

“What were you doing out?”

“Driving with my friends.” (I had learned how to not actually answer questions, but answer them without giving the response we all knew the other wanted. I learned this from him.)

“You are not to vandalize other people’s property. That is wrong, and I am very disappointed,” this, he yelled at me in earshot of my two friends. Embarrassed is meek for the shame I felt for being yelled at in front of my friends.

As I proceeded to the pull out couch in the family room where the girls were waiting, I could feel the tears forming in my eyes. Just before a drop fell to graze my cheek, I heard the noise of an instant message online. Adrenaline06, Richard! Just like that, my shame dissipated and I was ready to talk to him and forget that my friends were around...

I think at the time with this instant message, I truly believed I might not marry Jewish. Because as far as I was concerned Richard wasn’t just nice, he was a perfect boy.

No comments:

Post a Comment