Chapter 14 - Christmas Party at Water Lift

According to Boy: This episode took place after I had moved to New York, but before we got married. It would have been the Christmas of 1967, the same Christmas I bought the huge orange and red throw rug for Evie. We had two big events planned for the few days I was to be in Grand Rapids, one was Christmas dinner at my brother George’s house, and the other was the annual Christmas party at Water Lift (the company where Evie worked).
 

I was scared to death at the prospect of being interrogated by all of Evie’s friends, and I suspect she was equally intimidated at the thought of meeting my whole family. It would have been so much more fun had Evie simply flown out to New York, and we could have had a great time by ourselves at Rockefeller Center and Times Square.

I had no notion as to what to expect. What if her girlfriends at Water Lift were like the chick cliques in high school? All that note passing and speaking in code. What if one of her guy friends were to have had a thing for her? That could be uncomfortable. I was not looking forward to the party.

Being the Olympic-sized coward that I tend to be when drastically out of my element, I shopped around at the local liquor stores until I found a bottle of 151 proof Demerara Rum. My reasoning was, no matter how badly the night went, the Demerara Rum could erase it from my memory. But, like most events in life, the anxiety and dread beforehand are almost never mirrored by the actual event.

When we got there, I do recall having a swig of the rum, then a second, and then a third. My head started to feel the power of the alcohol. We then went in.

I don’t remember much about the night. I recall meeting some really nice people. Without exception the comment I heard when I was introduced was: "So you’re the guy from New York…" It was very obvious that all of Evie’s friends had a lot of respect for her.

I actually started having a good time. I could be wrong, but I think we danced almost every dance—and I did not know how to dance.

"It’s easy. Nothing to it," Evie told me, grabbing me by the hand and pulling me on the dance floor every time the band played a Polka.

I knew better than to mix the types of alcohol I was drinking, so I found the rum at the bar. There is no doubt that I was drinking too much. My head was ringing; but we kept dancing.

We kept dancing that night until we stopped dancing, and the "stop" was sudden. I have no idea how they expected us to dance around the huge steel supports that held up the roof of the hall. Initially I was able to miss them. After a time—after too many dances and many too many rums—I slammed Evie into one of the posts.

"Bam." Her whole torso struck it at once. I felt the impact on her body. It did not knock her out, but it was certainly must have been close.

"Maybe we should sit the rest of this out," I said, helping her back to our table. She never complained about it, but I am sure she developed some serious bruising as a result. A short time later we excused ourselves and left.

As I reflect on that evening, three or four things come to mind. First, I was amazed to learn how good a dancer Evie was. While my lack of ability in that area surely diminished our performance together, it did not cloud my ability to appreciate her dancing. Second, I was very impressed at the quality of those she considered her friends, and how they admired her. Third, I really liked the way she treated me that night. I felt really good just being with her. And, finally, I really liked the way her body felt when I held her. We had caressed before, and kissed; but, the magic of her body moving to the music, in my arms, was beyond amazing. Its memory makes me warm to this day.