The Post in Which My Innocent Image Is Forever Tarnished

Warning: If you think of me as sweet and innocent and prefer to keep it that way, skip this post.

When I turned 18, I tried to be the first of my eight siblings to stay home until I graduated high school.  I made it, but not much further; I ended up moving into the home of a generous friend and her family.  It was a wonderful arrangement for me; I had all the comforts of home and my needs met.  (Well, all needs except that I didn't have a place of my own.)

I digress here to say that I dated the same guy (on and off) all through high school and some time beyond. We were as serious about each other as two mixed up kids could possibly be.  This story involves him (and I'll call him Sam.)

So, let's just say Sam and I were looking for a place to make out talk one night after going out.  It was late (about midnight), and we knew we wouldn't have much privacy where I lived.  As luck would have it, my parents (who lived just two blocks away) had told me that they were going away for the weekend and taking my youngest sister with them. Perfect! We could sneak in and have a nice, empty house to ourselves.

Sam parked his car around the corner (we figured the neighbors might notice his car parked in my parents' driveway), and we walked to the back door.  I instructed Sam to wait there and told him I would sneak inside via the 2nd story landing and come downstairs to let him in. [Yes, I was quite familiar with sneaking up and down those posts leading to the landing. That's another blog post...]

So, I easily got into the second story door and tiptoed (out of habit) through the dark bedroom and headed down the stairs.  Half-way down the still-dark steps, which led to the hallway where my parents' bedroom was, I thought to myself, "Wouldn't it be funny if they were home?!"

That's when I heard the snoring.

HOLY CRAP! My heart instantly leaped into my throat, and I panicked. What should I do?  I decided to just keep going and get out of there. My mom was a light sleeper, and as I stepped on the last stair, she called out in the dark, "Who's there?!"

Because I'm brilliant, I replied, "Nobody!" and rushed through the tiny hallway, dining area and kitchen to blast out the back door, grabbing Sam and telling him to run with me.  We high-tailed it to his car and took off.

I think it took an hour for my heart rate to settle and my breathing to approach normal.  We took the chance of driving past the corner and saw all of the lights on downstairs in my parents' house.  I felt terrible. However, I also felt terrified, because I knew my dad would kill me if he knew it was me.

Finally, around 9am the next morning, following a guilt-filled, sleepless night, I dialed my parents' number, and Dad answered the phone. I hardly got the words out, "That was me last night," before he lit into me, "What in the hell were you thinking?!"  I replied,

"Sam and I got in a fight, and I wanted to be alone." (What?! It was at least half honest!)

He bought it.

I hope Mom's not reading this...