A DATING STORY
Sunday Star-News (Wilmington, N.C.)
March 3, 2002
Dale Kelly walked slowly down the hallway leading to his daughter’s bedroom. He held tight to his camera, at times poising it in front of his face, ready to snap a photo of his little girl.
“OK, let the proud father in,” Mr. Kelly said as he approached the room and peered around the entryway.
That’s when it hit him.
The smell of sweet perfume. The empty shoebox on the bed. The handbag and makeup and discarded clothing tags on the dresser.
And his little girl, standing tall in a floor-length white gown. His little girl, wearing pink lipstick and shiny eye shadow, her hair twirled up in a curly ’do. His little girl, about to go on her first date.
“Who is that?” Mr. Kelly said, smiling faintly.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful, Dale?” mom Cecile asked.
Mr. Kelly paused.
“I don’t even recognize her.”
Going on 16
It was Dale Kelly who hesitated when his 15-and-a-half-year-old daughter, Ginny, asked him if she could go to the South Brunswick High School formal.
After all, he didn’t want her dating until she was 16 – that’s what he’d always told her, too – and he wanted to stand firm.
But a boy asked Ginny to the dance. And Ginny wanted to go. And she was only weeks away from 16.
“He made me give him a paper of all the people I knew who would be there and their parents’ names and their phone numbers,” Ginny said. “Then he said, OK.”
Cecile Kelly was fine – in theory – with the date. In fact, she was giddy as she shopped for a dress with Ginny and helped her with all the preparations.
But on that day of the dance – Saturday, Feb. 23 – mom would pause after paying the hairstylist, she’d stand back after Ginny stepped into her dress, and she’d look on nervously.
She wasn’t the only one who felt like she was watching Ginny grow up before her eyes.
“It’s hard to think of her going off to a formal dance,” said hairstylist Janis King, who has been cutting Ginny’s hair since she was a child and was about to twirl her hair into a fancy upsweep. “I remember my girl’s first dance. I was crying while I was doing her hair.”
Village Hairstyling on Oak Island was Ginny’s third stop Saturday morning – following a French manicure at T Nails in Southport and a quick lunch of hamburger and fries at Burger King.
Her date, 10th-grader Drew Albright, was expected to arrive at her home in Southport at 6:45 p.m. There was a lot to be done.
“What do you think?” Ginny said quietly, looking up at Ms. King as she sat in her hairstylist’s blue swivel chair.
“Something hip,” Ms. King said. “Maybe we’ll put it up. What’s your dress look like?”
“White with spaghetti straps,” Ginny said.
“Yes, the hair’s got to be up,” Ms. King said matter-of-factly.
Seated across the room under matching hairdryers, Ms. Kelly and Ginny’s 11-year-old sister, Kimmie, watched, eating Chiclets and jiggling the hard candies in their hands. They looked on as Ms. King brought out the hot curling iron to begin Ginny’s hair. Ginny sat quietly in the chair, every so often holding out her newly manicured nails in front of her for a look.
“So who are going with?” Ms. King asked, looking down at Ginny.
“Drew Albright.”
“Well, Drew, that’s a nice name,” Ms. King said.
Dozens of long, brown curls filled Ginny’s head as conversation turned to the weather outside – a bit of a dreary day with drizzling rain and temperatures in the 40s.
“Does your dress have a jacket?” Ms. King asked.
“It has a shawl,” Ginny said.
“You’ll need it,” Ms. King said. “I think it’s going to turn cool tonight.”
Then, with one big twist of her hair upward, some extra curling and a load of hair spray (Ms. King called it “super glue”), Ginny was through.
Sitting on her hands across the room, Ms. Kelly looked at her daughter.
“Doesn’t she look beautiful,” Ms. Kelly said.
Kimmie broke out in applause.
“I don’t think she looks 15-and-a-half anymore,” a customer seated nearby said.
Star gazer
Ginny knows Drew from school. They have similar friends, and Drew is a member of the JROTC, which is sponsoring the formal dance – their own military ball of sorts.
When her dad gave her the go-ahead for her date, he also said he’d buy her dress. The result? A long, flowing white gown with a white flower pattern, tie-up back, thin straps and a matching white shawl. White shoes and a small, white handbag tie the ensemble together.
Wanting her makeup to be just right, Ms. Kelly and Kimmie led Ginny to the Merle Norman boutique on the mainland.
That’s where she picked out her colors – “ice” as an eye shadow, a soft pink blush and “star gazer” (that’s pink) for her lips.
At home in Southport – with about three hours to kill before it was time to get dressed – Ginny and her mom painted her toenails pink (so they could peek through her open-toed shoes). They also studied those shoes, hoping the slight heel would be comfortable for the five-hour dance.
“Do they have a slick bottom?” questioned family friend Laura Herring, who was helping Ginny prep for her date. “If they do, you need to scratch them on the cement. Let me see ’em.”
Slick bottoms.
Out the door they went to scuff the shoes up on the patio outside.
As the clock crept toward 6, Ms. Kelly approached Ginny, who was sitting in a rocking chair, resting her chin in her hands.
“Ready?” Ms. Kelly said.
“But I like my jeans,” Ginny said smiling, before getting up and following her mom into her bedroom to complete her look.
Last look
Kimmie was dying to get into that room.
Camcorder in hand, she was tired of videotaping the guests seated in the living room. She wanted to tape her sister. She was ready for the date to begin.
After minutes of listening to mom and sister giggling in the back bedroom, Kimmie was finally admitted with camera.
There, she taped Laura making last-minute alterations to Ginny’s straps, pulling the needle and thread in and out to make the top fit better. She taped Ginny standing beneath the movie poster of Heath Ledger in “A Knight’s Tale,” fidgeting with her dress and nervously scrunching her hands. Kimmie taped and taped and taped.
“Kimmie, you’re going to wear the battery out,” Ginny whispered.
But there was no stopping the cameras in her face. Sister with the camcorder. Mom taking her own photographs. And then there was the knock on the door.
It was dad, with his own camera in hand.
“You probably won’t know Ginny when you see her,” Ms. Kelly said to Ginny’s dad, who drove from Oak Island to be there for her date. “She’s different.”
And he didn’t. In awe, Mr. Kelly approached his daughter and kissed her on the cheek.
“Don’t you look nice,” he said.
“Are you sure you want to do this?” he added.
Ginny smiled.
“Should I leave you alone?” he asked.
“No,” Ginny said softly.
As Ms. Kelly put the finishing touches on her daughter – a little more powder on the face and some more “star gazer” lipstick – Mr. Kelly watched wide-eyed, amazed at how the past 15-and-a-half years have flown.
“There was this little girl this small,” Mr. Kelly said, motioning with his hands. “And now, there’s this girl.”
Ms. Kelly gathered the essentials for Ginny to keep in her small handbag: lipstick (“I’m going to be checking that lipstick at the end of the night to make sure none of it’s missing,” Mr. Kelly said); tissues and powder.
“Do we want 35 cents for calling me?” Ms. Kelly asked.
As Ginny put on a final spray of perfume, Kimmie gave her advice for when her date arrives.
“You have to let him wait for you – that’s the key,” Kimmie said.
“What do you mean ‘the key’?” Mr. Kelly said. “What do you know about keys?”
The date
Drew Albright knocked on the Kellys’ door right around 6:45 p.m.
Dressed in his pressed green JROTC Army uniform, black bow tie and shiny black shoes, Drew walked into the house, carrying a purple gift bag. His mom, Brenda (the driver for the evening), followed.
Mr. Kelly, who had joked about his long list of questions he would ask The Date, looked to Brenda Albright and simply asked, “Is he a good kid? Are you sure?”
Drew and Ginny stood in the living room smiling, but not saying a word, as the adults around them laughed and talked.
“You’ve got something for her,” Ms. Albright said, motioning to Drew and the purple bag.
From it, Drew pulled out a small corsage – a light pink rose with white ribbons. Slowly, he slid it onto Ginny’s right wrist.
Then they motioned toward the door, Drew lightly putting his arm around Ginny’s shoulder to lead her outside.
On the front patio, Mr. Kelly summarized the rules – home before midnight, no side trips.
“Let’s synchronize our watches,” Mr. Kelly joked.
“It’s 18:45 military time,” Drew said, smiling.
Then Drew led Ginny to his mother’s car, opening the back door and helping her inside.
“Take care of my sister,” Kimmie shouted as they left.
“I will,” Drew said. “I will.”
The dance
Two miles down the road from Ginny’s house at the ILA Hall in Southport, Ms. Albright dropped the couple off. The hall was decorated in red, white and blue balloons and stars, and teen-agers streamed in, dressed in their finest.
Drew and Ginny mingled with friends, at first together, and then apart. Boys grouped together in their military uniforms; girls gathered in their long gowns. (White was a popular color, as were spaghetti straps, tie-up backs and shawls.)
The dance music began shortly before 8, and the lights were dimmed to near-darkness by the second song.
On the dance floor, Ginny talked with friends, standing still as the others around her moved to the beat of the music.
With the first set of songs all fast-moving tunes, Ginny and Drew (who said he only danced to slow music) made their way to the corner of the room, where a backdrop was set up for picture taking. Stepping onto the white paper, strings of white lights and light blue fabric behind them, Ginny and Drew followed the photographer’s instructions: Side by side, his hand on her arm, snap.
By 8:30, Drew’s jacket came off, and the first slow song filled the room. As “(Everything I Do) I Do It For You” played, Drew led Ginny to the middle of the floor and they had their first dance – her arms around his neck; his around her waist.
Each new song brought out a little more in Ginny as the night progressed. Soon, she was swaying to the beat of songs, standing in a line with her friends, moving her shoulders to a “Proud Mary” remix. And when the conga line passed her by – with dozens of students barking to “Who Let the Dogs Out?” – Ginny didn’t hesitate. She joined them.
When a slower song came on, she’d take Drew’s outstretched hand and follow – the orange, blue, green and yellow lights from a disco ball reflecting off her white gown.
More at ease, the rhythms of the songs began to reflect in her body language. Her wide smiles. Her confidence.
And then came the other offers for dances. From other boys.
And there were the bolder dances – the classic “Hokey Pokey.” The Latin “Livin’ La Vida Loca.” The rap “The Real Slim Shady.” The swing “Zoot Suit Riot.”
As the end of the night drew near, Ginny was back dancing with Drew amid the low-floating balloons. Usher’s “U Got It Bad” filled the room as the teens danced – many singing along to the popular song.
And then “Last Dance.”
Lights up, the teens scattered to collect their belongings, Drew handing Ginny’s shawl to her as they walked out of the hall.
“It was a lot of fun,” Drew said, motioning to Ginny, “especially with her.”
“I’ll never forget it,” Ginny said. “I came out of my shell ... for awhile.”
The clock read 12:01 when Ms. Albright pulled up to the Kelly house with Ginny and Drew. But there was no waking anyone up.
Kimmie was in the living room window, aiming the camcorder out to catch, yes, even the end of that first date.