Tennessee Waltz

By
“Where is he?” I ask under my breath. The musty air of the wooded chapel lingered around me. The concert on stage was coming to an end. The young women playing the violin stood up, pushed her chair backwards, and took a long, deep bow. From the second story bleachers I could see her smile. It was a smile that showed how proud she was that she was on that stage. The applause was the perfect time to make my escape. Dozens of musicians below me arose and applauded.

I spring out mf my second row bleacher seat and ran down the creaky wooden steps. Once I reached the old floor, I burst through the green screen door.

The air outside was fresh. I smelled of pine trees and now rain. It was dark outside it was almost nine o’clock. My feet shuffle along and kick the gravel from the path ahead of me. Ahead of me was the old weathered off-white inn, where musicians from the summer acoustic music camp were out on the porch playing and singing old country tunes. There were about 20 of them, accompanied by guitars, violins, banjos, and a harmonica. The group was gleefully stomping heir feet and singing with smiling faces. I force a polite smile as I walked by. I was on the stone part of the path now, and I was facing the beautiful Meeting Hall. I could hear the volleyball camp from stretching to music. I am going to be one of them when I grow up. I continue down the old, half-rotten wooden steps through the mini forest that connects Meetinghouse to eh Gibbs house, where I have always stayed. The rain puddles that gathered on the oak leaves fell down upon me as the wind blew. At the first sight of my beloved Gibbs house, my heart raced, just as it had the past thirteen years when I had walked into the Gibbs house. The three creaky steps up to the porch tripped me, but I caught myself. The screen door contained many mosquitoes, trapped in the paces between the screens. As I stepped into our “Shoe Room”, the odor of seventy pairs of shoes overwhelmed me. I walked through the ten foot long pale yellow hallway leading to the living room. I dragged my arms on the walls as I walked.

My eyes searched the living room until I found my target. Five teenagers sat on the black and green carpet in between red and blue chairs. One of the poker players was Ryan, my target.

“Hey,” I flirt in a very suggestive voice, one thing I am quite good at. “You ready yet?” I smile and touch his shoulder.

“Yea let me get my jacket.” Ryan stood up slowly nodding to his opponents who looked at us annoyed. He walked with me through the hall and the shoe room until we were outside. We had been walking to close to each other that every couple steps our hands and arms would brush against each other. Then his hand ran down my arm, leaving behind a trail of Goosebumps. When his hand reached its final destination, my hand, we started walking again, through the same forest I had just been through. When we were about half way through the New England trees, bushes, and flowers. We could see the Meetinghouse. The volleyball girls were stretching to “Umbrella” by Rihanna, and the speakers outside were vibrating as we walked by.

“Lets go stretch with them Ashley!” His face immediately lit up when the thought of my bending over in front of him came into his mind.

“ Yeah right,” I started matter-of-factly, “No way I am going in there.” Although deep in my heart, I knew that I wanted to do whatever he wanted to do, and I wanted to go in there holding his hand, and show him off for the world.

“No, come on Ashley this could be fun.” He started playfully tugging on my hand toward the door. Two can play at this game. I tugged back. Soon, He bent over, but one hand under my knees and the other behind my back, and lifted me up like I was his bride. Now, I was getting nervous. I didn’t want to go in there. I struggled, and squirmed, and shook until he slowly put me down on the grass.

“Jesus.” He said exasperated. I grabbed his hand once more, and we started for the chapel where music was still playing. It sounded like a mix between rock and country. It was nice music, not hillbilly music. We walked up the white steps into the chapel where the whole camp was gathered. The music was still playing, and there was still a line for open microphone. Dancing was supposed to start after all the music had died down.

“Let’s get out of here, for a while.” I said looking at his hand, still tenderly holding mine. We walked out of the chapel, trying to be discreet. The air was cold, and it seemed as if there was no wind tonight. We walked through the meadow hand in hand, running at times, gaily. Laughing even though there was nothing to laugh about, and then stopping when we looked into each other’s eyes. As soon as we were about a hundred feet from the old playground, I sat down on the grass; he looked at me for a minute, and then sat down too. He was still looking at me when I lie down next to him and looked at the stars. I was still holding his hand. Our hands together matched perfectly, and the amount of warmth between us was amazing. He then gazed past me. To a camp of about forty young kids all watching us from their cabins, some of them even got out of their cabins and started whispering to each other. He then lay down next to me, propped himself up on his elbow, and but his hand to my face, brushing aside my hair, then leaned down to whisper in my ear.
“You want to give them something to remember?” He asked, well urged. I really didn’t. I loved just looking at the stars on my back with our hands clasped.

“Lie back down.” I said with no feeling what so ever. I was going to give these campers a good show. I leaned over so that I was practically on top of him. I leaned down and put my face in his neck. Buried deep in his neck. I had no intention of actually kissing him. I just wanted to get close enough so that the campers thought we were kissing. We heard “ew” and “gross” and “get a room” It was perfect. The only downside was that he wanted to go further than just snuggling I know it.

“Now, no more.” I said when the campers had left. Our hands were still intact with each other’s. There where seventeen stars that night, and three planes. About the time when we were snuggled in each other, about to go to sleep, the music form the chapel stopped, and the loudspeaker went on.

“Dancing is beginning.” The voice said nonchalantly.

“You ready?” He implied politely, giving me a hand up from the grass. I was sure that my jeans were grass stained, and my shirt was all dirty, but that didn’t matter to me. When he put his hand around my back as we walked into the chapel, my heart could have melted. Later that night, when we were waltzing, I could feel his hands on my lower back pulling me closer to him. He kept pulling until I gave in, and our whole bodies were touching. The night faded off in my mind, and whenever I look back to that night, I feel like I am still dancing to the “Tennessee Waltz” With our bodies touching. I will stay there forever.





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roxygirl123 said...
May 15, 2009 at 9:38 pm
i loved this story! i thought it was so cute and very well writtten. This story inspired me and i love it! :)
 
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