Blasted barbecues. I can't stand them, but my father loves them. For him it's a chance to drink and show off his cooking skills, surrounded by friends and family. For me it's a chance to chew on a piece of meat that my father has managed to both under and over cook. I'd find myself biting into raw steak surrounded by charcoal. And I don't drink. Or not much, anyway. I like an occasional beer or a glass of wine, but that's it.
I'd generally hang around the edges of the barbecue, showing willing, until a time came when I could sneak away and make myself a real meal. It's different when there are people my age there, but all too often the only extras are people my parent's age. People my age (that's eighteen if you must know) have too much sense to attend.
So here we were again on a Saturday night. Instead of me being at a dance or nightclub with my friends I'm expected to be at the barbecue, making myself useful. I put out salad and bread. I provide drinks and drinking vessels. I run in and get the meat when dad wants it. I run off to find a lighter when dad's wasted all the matches trying to light the grill. I slowly go out of my mind with boredom and frustration.
Mum and Dad smile, and drink and socialise and have a great time and assume that I must be having a great time as well and I could just scream.
"Run and turn the lights on, sweet," says Dad. "It's getting dark."
No kidding. It was almost pitch black, but the lights don't go on until Dad says. So I turn on the lights and the barbecue area lights up, making the rest of the yard look pitch black in comparison.
Finally, this is my chance. I fade of towards the edges of the crowd, edging closer and closer to the gloom of the yard. Then I've crossed the boundary and am hidden by the dark. Now I could circle around and vanish into the house for something to eat.
I damn near screamed when a voice whispered in my ear.
"Sneaking off, are we?" it said.
Turning in the direction of the voice I could see this figure looming over me. Secure in the knowledge that there were a lot of people just yards away I moved closer, trying to see who it was. I finally worked out it was Neil, one of our neighbours, a relative new-comer to the area.
"What are you doing here?" I snapped. "Besides giving girls heart attacks."
He laughed.
"Do you mean here, at the barbecue, or here, talking to you in the dark?"
"Either, both, I guess."
"Well as far as the barbecue is concerned, you should know your father. He invites everyone, so I came along. It helps me get to know the people in my new neighbourhood.
As far as talking to you is concerned, I was just stretching my legs in the yard when the lights came on. I was heading back to the main barbecue area when I saw you carefully sneaking away."
"I was not sneaking away," I said indignantly. "I was, um, just stretching my own legs. That's all."
"Liar," came the prompt retort. "I saw your face as you came sneaking away, and you were looking so relieved to be escaping. What's wrong? Don't you like barbecues?"
"I quite enjoy barbecues," I informed him. "I just prefer a crowd closer to my own age."
"And a better cook," I muttered quietly. Not quietly enough, as Neil heard me.
"I have known cooks who can grill a terrific steak over a barbecue grill," Neil told me. "Your Dad is not one of them."
Now it was my turn to laugh. He was so right.
"You know, when I saw you sneaking out I said to myself, Neil, my boy, this is your lucky day. That young woman is coming here searching for you. She wants a kiss and you're the one she's chosen to give it to her."
"What? You have to be joking."
"Not really. Let's find out."
He kissed me. I didn't mind. What harm could it do? I kissed him back.
It was quite thrilling really. We were only just outside the circle of light cast by the spotlights around the barbecue area. Standing there in around the barbecue were my parents and all their friends and neighbours, drinking and eating and gossiping. And here, in the outer darkness, I was being expertly kissed by Neil.