the Night I Slept With Cy Dillon's Mother - Conclusion

There’s a not-so-famous line from a 1976 motion picture, entitled, “The Big Bus.” In this parody of the many catastrophe movies of that day, a commercial bus driver had earned an undeserved reputation following a bus accident in which some of the passengers had been eaten by others. In the movie, the driver says, “You eat one lousy foot and they call you a cannibal.”
Nearly two decades before that movie was made, I was the victim of similar prejudice. After just one failed attempt to spend the entire night with a schoolmate, I was branded a “momma’s boy.” I was ridiculed for my cowardice. Completely overlooked were the pertinent details of that failed attempt, namely that I would have had to spend the night in the house with that dead grandmother in the piano bench, and with a grandfather that would have made Oral Roberts look like Madeline Murray O’Hare.
But, admittedly, after my second failed attempt at a sleepover, I was a legitimate failure at the art of spending the night away from home. My sleepover social life had dried up. When word got around (and my brothers made sure it did) that the Bowmans had to pull their car out of the mud with a tractor in order to take me home, no one would invite me to spend the night. My brothers, both younger, continued to get the invitations. And, they continued to make it clear to any who would listen, that I was “that kid who couldn’t make it through the night.”
So, you can perhaps imagine my joy, and yes, some apprehension, when my best friend, Cy Dillon, invited me to spend the night. Redemption was at hand. Sure, I was a little concerned that if I blew this one, it would all be over for me. But, Cy didn’t seem to be the Captain Kangaroo type. I did wonder what I’d do if he showed me any pictures of non-living relatives, but I needed this chance to once-and-for-all-time shed this image of the guy who couldn’t do a sleepover.
For the third time, I packed some clean underwear. “I’m really going to need the underwear this time,” I told myself. I was convinced I could do it. Mickey, my brother assured me I’d be home before bedtime. But I was undeterred by his ridicule. Even his chicken squawking didn’t bother me. I KNEW. I absolutely was sure I could spend the night with Cy Dillon. And, I almost did.
When we got to Cy’s house after school, I felt good. I was pacing myself. Only about five more hours and we’d go to bed. I was counting down the moments, and feeling good. I really had a good time. We did our homework. We played some softball. We watched some TV. And then, it was bedtime.
I put on my pajamas with a sense of pride. I was no longer the kid who couldn’t spend the night away from home. I was a success. It was oh, so close. We climbed into bed, and, before I knew it, I was asleep.
At about three in the morning I woke up. It quickly dawned on me that I was in the midst of a major accomplishment. I smiled. I looked over to the other side of the bed where Cy was sleeping.
Except, there was one major problem. Cy was gone! I’ll admit that I have an overactive imagination. I’ll also admit that I probably watched too many police shows on television. Because, immediately I jumped to the conclusion that Cy had been kidnapped. But, being a somewhat reasonable child, I tried to quell those fears. Maybe he’s just playing hide-and-seek, I told myself.
Yeah, right. In retrospect that made about as much sense as believing he could have been kidnapped. But, I was willing to buy into that belief for the moment. I got up and looked under Cy’s bed. I looked behind the curtains. I looked in his closet. No Cy.
“Alley alley umpkin free,” I shouted. That, of course, is the international signal that the hider has succeeded in stumping the hidee. Cy didn’t umpkin free. In fact, there was no response from Cy at all. The sickening dread hit me at that moment. My worst and first fears were true. Cy had indeed been kidnapped.
And, I knew it was up to me to break that news to his parents. I started down the hallway that led from Cy’s room to that of his parents. I heard someone coming. A kidnapper?
Fortunately, I could see from a nightlight that it was Mrs. Dillon. I mustered up all the courage one must muster up when given the responsibility to be the bearer of bad news.
“Mrs. Dillon,” I gulped. “I don’t know how to tell you this, but Cy’s been kidnapped.”
There I said it. Now, I’d just sit back and see how she and Mr. Dillon handled this piece of rather disturbing news.
Surprisingly, Mrs. Dillon didn’t scream. She didn't even put her hand to her mouth and gasp. She just smiled. “No, Steve,” she said reassuringly. “Cy just came and got in bed with his father and me.”
Oh yeah, there was that possibility, I guess. Relieved, I replied, “Oh good.” I then turned around and started back to bed.
Mrs. Dillon called after me, “Steve, do you want me to come get in bed with you?”
“No, ma’m,” I said. “I’ll be fine.”
With that, I headed back into Cy’s bedroom, climbed back into bed and immediately fell asleep. When I awoke the next morning, the first thing that hit me was the fact that I’d made it. I had really spent the night with a friend...the whole night! My reputation would do a complete turnaround. My social life would make a comeback. A feeling of warmth and joy flooded through my body. In the back of my mind was some foggy recollection of having played hide and seek with Cy during the night, but I couldn’t remember all the details. Perhaps, it was just a dream.
I turned to look at Cy, and that’s when the horror hit me. If this had been a movie, I would have screamed as long and as loudly as any eight-year-old boy had ever screamed before. But, this was no movie. This was real life. And, for all intents and purposes, mine was over.
For there, next to me, was not Cy, but his mother. Looking back over the years, I realize how kind she was to be concerned about me being alone. My parents, no doubt, had warned her, that I might not make it through the night.
But, at that moment…at that horrible, awful moment, I could think of just one thing. Yes, from now on, I would never again be known as the kid who couldn’t sleep away from home. From this day on and forever, I would be known as the kid who spent the night with Cy Dillon’s mother.