Tay layed out three different outfits for herself to wear and then stood and stared at them for a few minutes then grabbed the black strapless, thigh length dress and slipped it on. She could wear this and wear her black jacket. She could also sweep half of her hair up and a little make up and it should be good.Or she could wear the red dress, that was spaghetti strapped, knee length with a sweetheart neck line, and put all of her hair up with some curls hanging down. Or maybe the blue dress which was floor length, God she just didn't know. She knew the resturant was fancy so it had to be one of these. She held up each and turned to the mirror to see which one was the best, the blue.The blue one was floor length, but Tay wore 3 inch heels, silver heels. It had one strap on the right shoulder the left was bare. It was a beautiful goan that she had never worn but could not resist purchasing when she had seen it in New York, the summer before. She slipped it on as the doorbell rang.What. Sally was among those elements of my life. I knew her name, and precious little else about her, as one might expect.We attended an "experimental" high school, one in which convention was looked at as wrong, the early seventies as an anchor point. We had "small group" and "large group" classes; that is, a class of twenty or so on Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, and larger lecture groups on Tuesdays and Thursdays. College sans tuition, one might even say.Large groups were conducted in enormous rooms, a teacher at the front, rows of modular desks arrayed down the line, an overhead projector displaying the teacher's ramblings before us, the lights off.It was on a large-group day, a Thursday if I recall, that I met Sally, and I mean properly, for the first time.I grew up a Baptist, Southern Baptist to be specific, and my Dad was a back-row man. Always sat in the back pew. The habit took.So there I was, sitting in the last row of desks on large-group day, already way ahead of the teacher,.
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