Haunts

There are a few things in life that haunt me. A memory that makes my blood do interesting things. I think about it and get ashamed of myself. It's one of those things that I've never really taken out and examined. It's always been too hard to face. Like if I brought it out I would find myself completely in the wrong even though I tried so hard to make it right.

It was back in High School. (Why do so many haunts occur in High School...) It was homecoming week. I don't remember what year, but it was the night of the snake dance. You couldn't miss the snake dance, it was the only time it was legal for a high-schooler to be in the bar. The whole of main street shut down, the entire high school population that could come came. We all joined hands in one long line and 'snaked' our way from the high school through to the other end of town. The bar was always open and it was the one establishment that allowed us to snake our way through. It ended at the Grace City Park where a bonfire was built and a replica of the opponent's mascot was hung and burned to wild cheers of victory to come. A glorious night indeed.

It was after the official festivities that my particular haunt occurs. It was customary to drag main, small as it is, after the event. I was driving the 'speed demon' or the 'demon truck from hell' as it was often called. In reality it was a little tan Toyota. It had to have a cool name otherwise it would have been embarrassing. I was proud of my little 'demon'.

I was driving. Someone was in the passenger seat. A whole lot of someones were in the back of the truck sitting and standing as we drove around. Tonya was one of them. Mom wasn't so sure she liked me hanging around with Tonya. I always seemed to get in trouble with her. Said she was a bad influence. I can't imagine why. Common sense seemed a little on the scarce side when we hung out. Like that time that we didn't want to come home from the movie so we called and said that Tonya had lost her wallet in the movie theatre and we'd be home late. Apparently it was a bit later than they anticipated (cause it takes 3 and a half hours to find a lost wallet in the Soda Springs Idanha theatre) as evidenced by the extremely angry face of my father as he waved me down while I dragging main with a boy at 1 am in the morning. I digress.

So Tonya was in the back banging on top of the cab. It was just like being inside a tin can. I asked her to stop, it kept going. I asked again, it kept going. Finally I got really mad and jerked the truck to the curb so that I could get out and take care of the 'issue'. What I didn't realize was that my jerk of the truck almost cost Tonya her life. That may be extreme, but when I pulled over she didn't have a good grip and almost flew out of the truck. She was hanging on for all she was worth, her face inches from the ground, and scared to death. Then she was mad.

I spent the rest of the night trying to apologize. She wouldn't accept. I was ashamed of my actions. I was ashamed to think that my loss of control almost seriously hurt my friend. I wanted so badly for her to accept my apology so the horrible feelings would go away. Those are the feelings that haunt me when I think about that time. I wanted reconciliation. I wanted to know that everything was okay. I wanted to feel better about what I had almost done. Like if she forgave me then I wouldn't have to be so ashamed anymore. I could chalk it up to 'stupid' and not have to loose too much sleep over it. I could put it to rest.

Life goes on, time passes... but that night occasionally pops up and haunts me. It all seems so silly now, but still I wonder if she ever did forgive me. I wonder if she ever knew how really sorry I was. I wonder if she even remembers that night.