A Bittersweet Memory

Empty bottles of coke on the floor. Stray socks and plastic baggies complete the picture. We sit in a circle, and everywhere I look, people are arm in arm, slapping each other on their backs. Their faces proudly show off their pearly white teeth as they double over in laughter. One person stands on his head for 30 seconds. Another posts a silly picture on Instagram captioned: Party With my Boys! Soon, it is my turn. “Truth or dare?” they ask, and though my brain says truth, my mouth betrays it and spews out “dare” recklessly. 

As they think of one for me, my eyes travel to the ceiling fan. It spins slowly, round and round, round and round. A pair of underpants have somehow gotten slung onto it, and I wonder how they even got there in the first place. A hard slap on the back pulls me out of my trance, and my eyes focus on the people around me. Their teeth-showing smiles have now transformed to smirks. Whatever they’ve got planned for me, it certainly isn’t good. 

They take me outside and make me get into one of their cars. The shiny black Maserati Ghibli brags with luxury as it shimmers with light, reflecting off of the moon. It also shows exactly how extravagant these people are; no one can afford this in college. 

I sit in the back of the car, on cream-colored leather and crammed in between four people, split evenly on each side of me. There is no need for seat belts as there’s no way for us to get jostled forwards when we are this tight together. Besides, the seat belt is impossible to put on anyways with this many people to distribute among. I ask where we’re going as my stomach tightens every mile we travel from our dorm. They answer with a “you’ll see soon”.

Just when I want to protest against this dare, we pull up into a parking lot to Cheers to Toast. My cheeks turn red as I figure what it is. “No. No way,” I say as I get out of the car. The others just laugh. We go in and get drinks. I order a wine spritzer; something light so I can focus on what’s more important. The others order big jugs of beer. They walk to a table, clumsily jostling the other ones along the way, and sloshing their beers along the rim of the glass. I timidly follow behind them. We sit down and look around. The bar is mostly empty and just as I open my mouth to make sure they notice how impossible this dare is, the bell rings and a woman comes in.

She walks in confidently, pink high heels and a blonde ponytail. She wears a showy black dress and around a dozen gold bangles around her wrists. The guys around me whistle and point. “She’s the one,” they say.

I stare. “No way,” I whisper. “She’s way out of my league.” The neon lights around the room casts a shadow on her face but judging by the parts I could see, she was really quite pretty. I watch her order a martini at the counter and take small sips out of it while the guys around me assure me that if she declines, we would leave. I get up from my chair and make my way towards her. She catches sight of me as I walk, staring with her bright blue eyes and stirring her drink with the three olives on a toothpick. I feel the heat rise to my face again and it takes all my energy not to look at my shoes and break the stare. I walk until I’m standing right in front of where she sits. “Would you like to maybe go out to dinner with me tomorrow?” I ask. And just like that, our date is set.

I stand outside her hotel room, adjusting my tie self-consciously every few seconds. I’m wearing a blue tuxedo. I had wanted to wear a black one, but they said it matched my blue eyes and brown hair so that’s what it was. In my hand is a bouquet of roses, the reddest I could find at the supermarket. After a few minutes, I take a deep breath and knock on the mahogany door. The fold number 315 on it stares back at me as I wait. Not too long after, it creaks open slowly as I get a glimpse of a delicate hand with green nail polish on it. Slowly, the opening door also revealed a matching green dress, blonde hair that was decidedly let down so it fell around her waist like a glowing waterfall, and those blue eyes, the same shade as mine. She smiles as I hand her the roses and we make our way to the elevator.

Our first stop is the restaurant. We walk a few blocks down and I repeatedly apologize for not having a car. She assures me that it’s okay. We enter and a waiter immediately takes us to our pre-reserved table. We sit down as a waitress takes our order. She orders bouillabaisse and I get baked salmon. We eat in awkward silence, each one competing to have the best etiquette. No more than an hour later, we are done.

But I am not satisfied with this yet. This dinner was just an introduction. I take her bowling next. She picks up a purple bowling ball and knocks down all ten pins on her first try. I miss all of them. She seems to enjoy the comedy I had unpurposely performed. Still, we do not speak a single word to each other. 

Finally, I take her to the movies. We go to see Pride and Prejudice, one of my favorites. I buy her caramel popcorn and a cherry slushy. She smiles at me and I think about how beautiful her blood-colored bow-shaped lips are. We settle comfortably on the middle front row and the movie starts. The Bennets meet the Bingleys, Jane falls ill, Collins proposes to Elizabeth, Lydia runs off with Wickham, Jane marries Bingley, Elizabeth accepts Darcy’s proposal, and finally, they kiss. At that moment, I feel something on my hand and when I look, I discover it’s hers. She looks at me and leans in, eyes closed. I do too on instinct until I realize. 

“Oh god,” I whisper. She immediately opens her eyes and a worried expression overtakes her serene one. “Sorry,” I quickly say. “It’s just that. . . just that I don’t even know your name yet. Don’t you think that we’re moving into this too fast? What if we just take it slow?”

She stands up. “Isobel,” she says. “My name is Isobel.” Then, she walks off.

I sit there stunned until I come to my senses to go follow her. “Wait!” I shout. I walk through the double doors leading to the outside and step onto the sidewalk. The heart of New York City is very busy with people rushing around, always trying to be on time for a job interview or just rushing because why walk when you can run? It is also very loud because of course, you can’t just run; you also have to take phone calls and schedule the appointment you’re rushing to. Not to mention the cars. Taxis bringing herds of tourists, stopping to let them out, and causing a colossal storm of honking, screaming, and motors. There obviously was no hope of finding her. 

I run my mind throughout the day, trying to cling onto each particle and item of the bittersweet memory. It started with a game of truth or dare, and somehow, I had gotten myself into standing in front of room 315, a bouquet of roses in my hands, waiting to take a beautiful girl on a date. Wait. . . room 315! That surely was where she was. 

I raced across the street, not caring that cars skidded to stops within inches away from me. My body was filled with adrenaline as the hope that all was not lost filled me. I pumped it towards my legs and faster I run. Past the bowling alley, past the restaurant. Past people and dogs and traffic signs which all turn into a colorful blur around me as I sprint. I finally come to a stop at her hotel, heart hammering throughout my whole body, sweat dripping down my face. I look terrible as I study myself along the metal walls, standing in the elevator. It dings on the third floor and I get off. 311. . . 313. . . 315!

I knock once, and to my dismay, no one replies. I knock again. . . and again. . . and again. . . until finally, my impatience overcomes my manners and I put my hand to the brass doorknob. Surprisingly, it unlocks. 

I step onto the cotton carpeted floor and sink down to my knees in dejection. Everything is gone. She’s gone. I will never see her again. A single tear of despair rolls down my face, and I wipe it away quickly. Making my way to the middle of the room, I tug the pull chain and lay down on the floor to watch the fan spin, faster and faster. The air blows onto my face, making my hair spread out around me. I close my eyes as I convince myself that I am better off without her. I am free from the dare. Free from hiding my true personality. Free from her.