You were the first, really the only girl, the only person, period, who I ever saw glide-walk. That’s how you came across the lawn. It was a hot night, humid, the kind that makes you sweat even after the sun goes down. The kind of night when you can smell the heat right up inside your nostrils. August in New Jersey the way we like it there. Do you remember any of this?

I wasn’t seeing things for what they were. You glide-walked across the school yard. Do you remember that the school was on a busy road? It was almost a highway, and cars and trucks and buses whizzed by, day and night, to and from the Turnpike? Well, that night I didn’t hear them. That night the only sound I remember is the slow, chirpy music of crickets in the heat.

I’d snuck away from the front porch, away from my parents in the house arguing. Something about his job.

I was sitting with my back to the brick wall of the school gym, my arms on my knees, my head on my arms, looking out over the long playing field. I don’t think I noticed you at first, because I don’t remember seeing you come through the gate. You were just there, walking across the field when I lifted my head a little. I only saw a figure. I couldn’t tell who it was.

Even before I realized it was you, I saw the glide-walk. That says something, don’t you think - that I saw you as glide-walking even before I knew it was you?

You didn’t pay any attention to me in school. School was big. I had my small group of friends, you had your big one. But, for sure I knew who you were. You were the prettiest, scariest girl in that big place. Maybe the smartest, too.

One day at lunch I was sitting with my group as you walked by with yours. Neil Dunlap was sitting across from me. You walked behind him as I was putting my straw into my boxed juice drink. I stabbed blindly with the straw, my eyes following you above Neil’s head. Neil looked at my bumbling efforts, looked at my eyes, turned, saw you, turned back towards me and went into a deep guffaw. I felt the heat in my face. I must have turned tomato red.

And I wasn’t shy about girls. I was the only guy who could call a girl up cold, without having ever met her, and get a date. Of course, they weren’t girls like you. Still, I was a real good talker. I took girls to movies in other towns, towns we’d have to drive for a long time to get to, because there’d be time to talk. Talking in a car was way easier than talking anyplace else. Talk could have been a way to get to know all those girls. But it was a long time before I could really say something when I talked.

You stopped in the middle of the field, head down, kicked at something and started walking again. You didn’t see me til you were almost on top of me.

"Oh!"

"Hi. Don’t be scared. It’s me, Tom . . . Ballard. We go to school together."

You squinted. "Oh, hi. I was scared."

Awkward silence.

"Um, well, I was just here. Didn’t expect to see anyone. But, I don’t mean you should go away or anything. I mean I was just surprised, that’s all."

"Me too."

You could have excused yourself, but you didn’t. You stood there. You turned your head and looked away for a moment. Then you looked back at me.

"So, um, maybe you want to sit around for a while?" You were way above my social station. I didn’t expect you to accept the offer. I wouldn’t have blamed you if you didn’t. But, you did, and that was very fine with me. The glide-walking girl was going to stay around for a little while.

You walked the last few feet up the incline to the wall of the gym, turned and sat about a foot to my right. You, too, pulled your legs up and wrapped your arms around them.

We were silent for a long time. I didn’t dare risk turning my head to see what you were doing. It was only with peripheral vision that I satisfied myself you weren’t looking at me. I wouldn’t have known what to do if you had been.

I was sure that if the silence went on much longer, you’d leave. What a laugh that would have been. She came, she sat, she left; and the boy-idiot didn’t say a word to her. You’d probably have told everyone I was really weird. I sure didn’t want that to happen. I wanted to get to know you. Wanted it very much.

"Did you eat in the cafeteria today?" Oh, God, could I possibly have come up with anything more lame? But, you didn’t laugh, or even look at me like I was a goofball.

"Yeah. I did."

No place to go but onward.

"Pretty bad. Usually they get the pizza better than that. But today it was really bad."

"Yeah. It was. You’d think they’d improve. I mean, they’ve been doing it for so long. I just think they should be better at it."

"They should be."

Okay. Okay. A little progress. You were still sitting. But pizza in the cafeteria was death by self- strangulation.

"You like baseball?"

"Yeah, I do. I absolutely do. I love it. I watch games with my dad, and he takes me into the city, to the Stadium to watch the Yankees."

Paydirt! And this was a subject I could talk about, no problem.

"You a Yankee fan!?"

"Oh yeah, a real big one."

"Me too. I love ‘em. Been following them since I was a little kid, every day of the season. I keep score cards when I watch ‘em on T.V." Ooops. One sentence too far. Only nerds keep score cards when they watch baseball on T.V.

"You sound just like me!" Deliverance.

Though we were both clearly happy about the direction of the conversation, there was more silence. You looked up at the sky. I noticed how long your neck was and how it held your head like a thin pedestal, and I realized that a neck like that made a girl more beautiful. I think I should have told you that you had a wonderful neck. But, it would be many years before I could say something like that.

The silent minutes piled up, but after a while I stopped worrying about it. We’d talked and now we weren’t. That was fine.

Then, you moved. In two motions, with your hands pushing on the ground to lift you, you moved towards me and put your head on my shoulder.

My heart ripped at my ribs. I could hear it in my ears. I prayed you wouldn’t notice. I prayed even harder you wouldn’t notice where that pounding was pumping all the blood in my body to.
The weight of you leaned against me. I don’t know where I found it, but I had the presence of mind to put my arm around your shoulders and lean my head against the top of yours. The warmth of your head against my cheek was sweeter than the night’s warmth, than any night’s warmth. It was the first time I smelled a girl’s hair, found it had its own humidity, found it denied every other scent. And we sat that way, without moving, without a word, for a long time.

After a while my heart and my hormones calmed. I was relieved to feel sleepy.

After a while longer you got up, looked down at me, smiled and walked away.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * *

What was that night about?  I wish I could ask you. My sister said you were lonely or sad, or troubled, perhaps deeply so, and I comforted you without demanding anything. A great thing to do, she said. Don’t try to analyze it, she said. "You analyze things to death, and you’ve been doing it with this, too, all these years."

My ex-wife thought different. Water under the bridge. Forget about it.

They were both right. I analyze way too much, and I’ve tried way too hard to understand that night. I should just let go or forget. Were you a lost opportunity for me? Was I one for you? Should we have kissed? Started dating? Gone steady? Become young lovers? Gone on to get married? Should we? Could we? Might we? Did we risk too much? Too little? It goes on and on.

The next day you were coming out of the deli with your friends. I was going in with mine. We said hello. I smiled a little. You smiled a little. And that was that. We never said a word to each other about it. Never, even when we talked, as occasionally we did. They were kids’ talks. Superficial, awkward. At least for me they were awkward. I think they were for you, too.

Do you remember any of this?