The talent of being able to slide in and out of conversations without being disruptive or intrusive was a magnificent gift. So was the ability of quiet footfalls, almost ninja-like, a unique capacity that made it possible to hear multiple conversations happening at different times. Some, like the one I happened to overhear, were a lot more interesting, albeit borderline dangerous.

               There was something about 1984. That was a pivotal year for many GenXers, like myself. That was when we could run outside, unsupervised until the streetlights came on. Some of our parents weren’t home until just before dark. Others long after that, but the rule, hard and fast as it was, was inside when the streetlights came on. Divorce was on the rise in the valley, an area that included San Ramon, Dublin, Danville, and Pleasanton. And with the divorces came the remarriages, mixing families together. It was a like a hodgepodge melting pot of eclectic values, some traditional, others not, some following religious extremes, others apathetic toward any kind of church. God help you if you were one of those kids tossed into the salad bowl of a mixed family, with new siblings and new dynamics no one prepared you for. Me and my sister would survive another four years in our parent’s loveless marriage. We didn’t know they were fighting because they all took place behind closed doors. Not a single terse word between them was said, ‘in front of the children.’

               Our next-door neighbors? That was another story. Every day there was a fight, something got broken, and we knew all about their personal business because they always kept their windows open. As kids go, their kids were nice enough, but as for me and Sally? We thought they were a bit strange, even for us. Even with emotionally unhealthy relationships all around us, Sally and I never turned to alcohol or drugs. Her girlfriends tried alcohol a few times, but not until they started high school in 1990-something.

               The conversation between the three ‘buds’ as they called themselves, was thrilling because they were doing some exciting, dangerous stuff! Trent Ramsey, Gene Carter, and Danny Coleman. Looking at the trio, you’d never guess they were friends. The differences between them were noticeable. The ones that weren’t as obvious were clearer the longer you exposed yourself to them. But like all friendships, you had to have some disagreements, some things that didn’t align you with one another. The hard part for me, an active, albeit distant, observer, was their difference in religion. We attended a private, conservative Christian school holding traditional Christian values. Saying those three words now? Traditional conservative Christian? It puts you in a box no liberal will let you out of. But that’s not what it was like in ’84. Back then, saying those words made you accepted, brought you into the flock, so to speak. No one thought much about it. Not even those who professed to be atheists or Wiccans. And every person who followed that dude who was crucified on a cross? They were okay, keeping to themselves for the most part. Very little political involvement. And it was rare for them to push their agendas on you.

               Trent lived in a newer subdivision in Pleasanton, seven miles from the school. New construction meant unfinished houses and plenty of space to not only get into trouble but hide from bullies or just, in general, be a snot. Trent was one of those kids who played by the rules to a fault. There was something about the way he did things. He held himself a bit like Eddy Haskel from Leave It To Beaver. His charm,  character, and smile were mesmerizing. Adults interacting with him had no idea that he was about to steal ten bucks from their purses or wallets. Yeah. Trent was that kid. And at thirteen? He was getting pretty adept at conning people.

               “Dude! It totally worked! And I love the power of it!” Trent was bragging about a new flashlight that his Dad, part of a special tactics division of the Contra Costa police department, got. “You can hit a car from more than a thousand feet!” Even though Trent was great with people, he wasn’t all the great with distances. Chances are it was more like three hundred feet, not a thousand. “It’s so freaking bright!”

               “You are so full of it, Tee.” Danny rarely minced words, standing firm on his ground. Growing up the oldest of four with three baby sisters forced him to be responsible. That responsibility meant often going toe-to-toe with his Mom. And Danny’s Mom was strict. Out of the three, Danny’s Mom was the one who would stop the fun, forcing an end to the party, making the boys’ fun not so fun. “There is no way it goes almost a mile. That’s a lot of lumens.” Danny’s high intelligence weighed more than his comedic deficiency. I wondered if being responsible for his sisters quashed his sense of humor. “Besides, the batteries would be dead in a matter of minutes. What would be the point?”

               “The point, as you put it, Tee, would be to shine that sucker at cars before they could get out of the way!”

               “Um, wouldn’t that cause the driver to crash the car?” Danny asked. Danny was the quietest of the three, the baby of his five siblings, and the first to point out the audacious nature of Trent’s prankish behavior. “I mean, I get it. It’s a fun idea. But who’s going to get hurt?”

               “Uh, no one, Daniel,” Trent popped back. “Because where I do it, where I’ve been doing it, is right at that sharp corner, just as you turn up Bethel. No one is getting hurt.” Trent shrugged as if to say who cares. “Besides, it’s not as if I haven’t had a few close calls.” His laugh echoed in the quad of the school. Danny’s nervous looks got the attention of a few girls passing by, the least of which was Trinity.

               “Hey, Trinity,” Trent called out to her. “Can’t wait for the dance Friday. Are you sure your parents will be cool with so many people being invited?”

               “Daddy had to be convinced, but my Mom pulled it off. So, yeah. Be there.” She smiled and continued walking by the trio. “Everyone is invited, so make sure to spread it around, guys.” She looked at me, saying, “You can come, too.” A hint of her perfume, combined with Aquanet and her Secret deodorant, hung in the air. I wanted to close my eyes, picturing kissing her lips for the first time. If I ever had a chance, that was. Instead, I listened to the ‘buds’ continue talking about ‘beaming’ cars.

               “Come over tonight. I’ll show you how it’s done.”

               Danny rolled his eyes. “Can’t. I gotta be home for Sara, Candy, and Rachel. Mom’s working late, and Dad won’t be home until after seven, so it won’t work. I might be able to after Trinity’s dance if it’s cool with your Mom?”

               “Probably.” Trent didn’t talk about it, but his Mom was an alcoholic, separated from his Father, who, as far as he knew, was roaming South America with some tart. His Mom often overshared with Trent because he was the only one home, a captive audience, as it were. One of many reasons Trent was the way he was. His Dad, born into more money than you could spend in a lifetime, was married more than once before Trent’s Mom. He had three wives before marrying Michelle. And all three, four if you now included Michelle, were well taken care of, alimony covering most of their living expenses and making life extra comfy, even with the prenuptial agreement. Michelle never had to work and could still spend extravagant gobs of money and never be broke. “It all depends.” Trent knew if he came home from the dance and his Mom was drunk, he’d need to help her get over her hangover. Her binge drinking was regular. And on holidays it was worse. “But I’ll let you know as soon as I can.”

               Gene hadn’t said a word. He was shy, the quiet one of the ‘buds.’ The bell rang, indicating we needed to get to our respective classes. English was less than ten steps away, the door and Mrs. Jindrich standing outside, waiting for her wayward students like me. Gene whispered something almost indistinguishable from his breathing. Glasses and the asthma curse were part and parcel of Gene and his genes. “I’m going to be late,” he repeated after clearing his throat. I didn’t know what the other two saw in him, but it didn’t matter. He was part of them, like it or not.

               “Let’s go, boys.” Mrs. Jinrich smiled at me, holding the heavy door open until I sat down. “Gene, you know Mr. Greene won’t take kindly to you being tardy.” Tardy. I never did understand why she couldn’t just say ‘late.’ Even today, hearing that word makes me cringe! Something about it that makes me think of musty classrooms, chalkdust in the air, and the smell of those over-lacquered desks.

               “No, Mrs. Jindrich. He is aware of my inability to be on time for his class. I have a permanent place next to his desk because of it.” He waved back at her, making his way to the other side of the quad.

               I waited until the last minute to tell the parental units about the dance. I didn’t want to seem eager for it, even though I knew my Mom wouldn’t care. If I was honest, she wanted me to get out and make friends. Mom was a bit of an introvert and doted on me often. Being an only child meant I got to do and say whatever I wanted. Did I want brothers and sisters? Sure. But Mom couldn’t have any more kids. Looking back to 1984, I can’t say I blame her! She was in her early thirties, was very attractive, and had many men ogling her, trying to ask her out even though they knew her husband! All they were interested in was covered up by her clothes, whatever the heck that meant. I was thirteen and knew nothing about life, sex, or girls. So when she tried to explain it to me? It went over like a ton of brick. Thanks to my one friend, I knew more than she thought I did.

               Dad wasn’t home enough to explain such things, and when he was home? He spent his time with Mom, paying the bills or describing the intricacies of visual effects. Mom found it fascinating (I was bored to tears – I heard about them all the time! By the time I was twelve, I knew how all the special effects of 80s movies were done. It took the magic out of a film until CGI was a thing.) Their relationship was a bit of a mystery, with Dad coming in and out like an estranged family member in old movies. There was something about the consistency of it all. It made sense. For the two of them, it worked. It didn’t for me. But I wasn’t the one sleeping with my Mom. He was.

               October and I didn’t have a thing to wear. Not to a dance. Not for an outside activity after the sun went down. My clothes weren’t the most stylish, most coming from second-hand stores. Mom didn’t believe in wasting money on clothes, preferring to spend Dad’s money decorating the house. Ensuring everything was pristine and proper when she had company was the most important thing for her. Appearances became her world. I’m not sure when she started losing her grip on reality, but I’m willing to bet it started in our house with all her decorations.               

The best I could do in dressing up for the dance was dark blue Levi jeans that I had to fight for – Mom almost didn’t buy them, saying we could do better at Goodwill or the Salvation Army stores. I got my way this time, and she took me to Macy’s to buy them, only because they were on sale. And by on sale, I mean they were twenty dollars a pair! It was rare for Mom to buy my jeans for anything more than a few dollars – even five dollars was a stretch! So for her to be willing to buy me a twenty-dollar pair of ON-SALE Levi’s? I wore them like a badge of honor every chance I got. And the dance was one of those chances.