The Joke's Gone Stale, Bryan

It all started as a joke.

This horrific outcome had once been a simple joke that had passed from one to another with general lightheartedness.

I’m a teenage girl vying for release from the haunting claustrophobia of parent concern. Many summer days were filled with sneaking out to be with something similar to a second family, a ragtag group of friends with a common mindset. Our time together was filled with sharp quips and dark humor, digested from the environment around us. We preferred to ignore the ancient perception of life and carve out our own understandings into the world around us. That’s why when concerns from one’s Christian parents start arising, it’s told as a short dark quip to the rest of our group how ‘boring’ and ‘bothersome’ parents can be.

Bryan, a handsome boy in our group, had started talking about his parent’s concern for his lack of a proper girlfriend. He told us how he made up a Christian girl from the spot and how his parents bought the story. It was a hilarious inside joke in our little circle, until one dreadful Friday evening. A Friday that in fact, happened merely 2 days ago.

The afternoon sun was suffocating in an exhilarating way completely different from our stuffy judging homes. I distinctly remember how the back of my dark hair had heated up to the point it was burning, and how the sweat collected underneath my thighs. Cicadas revved their mating calls to the maximum yet they were no match for how my friend’s voices carried. Especially Bryan’s.

“You guys, remember how I told my parents about some non-existent goody-goody girl?”

My eyes flickered towards his face. His tone had wobbled, something nontypical from him. The atmosphere of the group hadn’t changed so I wondered quietly if it was something only I noticed.

“Well, they kept whining about how they wanted to meet her. Like hell I’d do that, the chick doesn’t even exist, right? Well, I’m throwing in the towel boys. If they don’t meet her by Monday, they’re selling my PC speakers. Those things are antiques, and they already got an offer for them on eBay. I don’t know what to do guys, they’re completely high or something.”

“That sucks dude, what are you going to do?”

A sharp sting on the inside of my palm made me rise up from the safety of my rumination. Bryan had said he needed one of the girls to pretend to be his Christian girlfriend.

My awareness of the situation expanded. The second I arrived at Bryan’s house, my pulse jumped to an uncontrollable level and I had locked myself in the bathroom. The closed toilet seat sprung a chill against my thighs, where it stung against my pounding, heated veins. Two days ago, a more innocent me had volunteered. In the present, I couldn’t comprehend why I had thought it was such a good idea. No amount of adoration for a boy would normally push a girl to be a fraud.

On Saturday, the first day after I had accepted, I had acted like it wasn’t such a big deal. I was almost looking forward to it, in a demented way. I would be able to go into Bryan’s house and set a good impression on his parents for the day that I would actually manage to catch his eye.  

On Sunday an escalating feeling of doom started to chill me. I would have to learn the bible, make up an education, learn the fancy way of handling dinner utensils, and my only guide was the movie called ‘Meet The Parents’. Still, such measly terror I had felt previously paled in comparison to me within this white bathroom.

I could feel the pressing urgency, skepticism, and concern from outside the door bleeding into my little space of false security. I had already come this far, in tight, appropriate clothing and dressed up hair, with any sense of escape I had long dissipated. I paced silently within the washroom, praying to a God I didn’t believe in that they wouldn’t see my high heel's shadows moving restlessly through underneath the door. I placed my pale hands onto the cold, biting granite of the sink and looked into the mirror.

My face was flushed, my eyes bloodshot. Tears had crept up multiple times, the urge only strengthened with my will to hold them back. My whole life I had been running from adult’s judging gazes yet I had walked straight into them. I had promised myself 5 minutes alone in the bathroom and then I would walk out with a brave face. Three minutes had probably passed, though they felt like nothing. My two minutes would already be gone by the time I blinked.

I would sit on a cold fabric cushion and be wrongfully bombarded with questions from adults that I desperately needed approval from. Bryan had told me multiple times that it would be no big deal, that of which I could perceive was his way of saying that he wouldn’t be helping me out there. This hopeless spiral of frustrating sadness in a cold bathroom was bringing me to my limit. I would be lucky not to run out of this place in tearful humiliation, much less pretending to be a happy, loved Christian girl.

I could hear the commotion of plates being placed down on a clothed table. Small musty gusts of air kept blowing through the slim space beneath the door, constantly reminding me of the horrible, humiliating world on the outside.

Butterflies buzzed around in my stomach like there was no tomorrow. Yesterday was so bright and I was so innocent. I would give anything to go back to Friday, to never have spoken up. I would give anything to still have a crush on Bryan, not this deep-rooted hatred born from frustration related to my own problems. Life as a whole could be so unfair sometimes. It felt like I was putting my life on the line for a guy that didn't care about me, for a guy that I had started to hate. I was only doing this for myself now and for my pride as a human being. I wouldn't dare let myself bolt outdoors with a red face. If I did, Bryan would no doubt tease me about it. A simple tease that had a high probability of becoming a stable gut-punch from my friends daily once this day was over. The spike in my anxiety worsened, and I keeled over, breaking further into a cold sweat with an arm around my middle.

It had all started as a joke. This was the mantra that was endlessly repeated in my head as I shakily grasped the doorknob with my sweaty palm and turned.