The pain never really did go away, you see. I just learned to drown it out, cover it up with smoke, and with distraction. Me and Darius eventually found our way over to the biggest and oldest cemetery in town, which just happen to not only be practically dead-smack in the middle of town but also provide the biggest party central that brought all kinds of kids together-despite race, gender, age, and economic standings-every kid there was an equal to the others. I’d drive my brand-new black convertible 1992 Chevy Corvette with Darius in the passenger sit to our side of the cemetery and then we’d proceed to the center to the graveyard. Kids have been doing this for at least 150 years now, my father came here as a kid and he was the one who told me about it. We were not the youngest but than again we most certainly were not the oldest. Kids who were on the other side of the track were always 11 or 12 years old at the youngest and we had kids that came as far away as Baton Rouge and LSU that were 21 to 23 years old that made up the older part of the party scene each and every Friday and Saturday Nights. The College kids would bring the liquor, and us kids that were underage brought the not-so legal variety of smokes. On those weekends, me and Darius would watch out over the weaker and younger kids, standing up for them when necessary (which always seemed to be when they would get too drunk and shoot their mouths off), taking their car keys away (for those who could drive and had a car), and hook them up with some one older that could give them a ride home. Even though I made a show of hangin’ around the older gentlemen of our parties and slamming down the Whiskey, Southern Comfort, Wild Turkey, and the Bourbon there was always that one looker of a woman that was about my age or older that would be with her boyfriend and we all four (me and my "boy" of the night that is) would be hangin’ out together. I’d be checkin’ her out ever so slyly and eventually later it got into the night the more the guys would be separating from us to be more ‘macho’ if you will. The party would begin to die down and I’d offer her a ride home and this was Friday night. I’d call my daddy the next afternoon to let him know where I was ("Daddy, I brought so-and-so home last night and I am going to be here until Sunday Afternoon, is that all right?" Would be the standard end of my conversation. Daddy’s always was "Sure, sweetheart. See you then! I love you!" oh the guilt with those last 3 words but I’d end the phone call by simply saying "I love you, too, daddy!") but what he did not know was that I had been up all morning long having the most amazing ***** ever, all because I was with a woman. Now, it did not matter what woman it was for all those weekends but it was just that *****, my heart was closed off from love and that’s the way it has been ever since Darius’ sister broke my heart over 12 years ago.