I want to tell you so many things, but everything I tell is expelled only in tiny pieces. I can never express to you the true feeling or emotions that came with the events that unfolded that winter. There was a girl who I’d had an affair with the spring before, but she had left the city and was now involved with someone else. I panned on seeing her if she returned for Christmas, but she never came home.
~
I was at some sort of post-Thanksgiving pre-Christmas party with Matt Hilderbrand. The whole thing was quite contrived, despite the obvious effort the hostess had put into it. I was impressed, but also very annoyed. There wasn’t enough beer, and for some reason everyone at this party seemed to be drinking straight vodka. Some sort of fascination with Absolute was evident, and if I do say so myself, in rather poor taste. The only good thing I could see on the surface was the excellent selection of eighties music, and the brunette across the room.
“We need cocaine,” Hilderbrand was holding a corona in his hand and not looking at all drunk enough.
“Christ, fuck that. You’re right though,” I said, taking a sip of mine.
“This party sucks. The music sucks.”
“The music is alright, but the booze situation is atrocious.” I caught another glimpse of the brunette who shot a glance at me as she walked into the kitchen.
“Yes.” Matt agreed with emphasis.
“Fucking Absolute,” I said, trying to tilt my head, and follow the path of the girl. “I think this girl is looking at me.”
“Who?”
“I don’t know. I’ve never seen her before.”
“I don’t know anybody here. I need a fucking cigarette. Smoke?”
“Fuck it. Lets go.”
The air was stiff and calm. There was an aura of certainty in my thoughts as the slow burning paper disintegrated into ash, vapor, and smoke, as it always did. Matt was saying something about the advertising industry, and I was agreeing with him. His words made sense to me, but for some reason I was asking myself whether or not they made sense to him.
The city was lit up, but obscured because we were in a low-rise apartment building near campus. This frustrated me. Matt had stopped talking, and I noticed that the brunette had walked onto the balcony.
I lifted the cigarette to my lips, staring at her. I took a drag. Then turning to Matt, my voice slightly deeper because of the smoke, I said, “She’s looking at me.”
“Well you are looking at her.”
“Yeah but...”
“Just go fucking talk to her. Christ, she obviously wants to jump your bone.”
“Not an easy task,” I said sarcastically.
“Fuck off,” Matt said now pissed because of the lack of blow and the lack of female interest, but most because of the blow. I approached her casually. At first I had thought that her hair was brown, but now I began to see that it was more black in this light. It was not as if it had been dyed black, but as if it was natural despite her very light complexion. She was wearing a strapless cocktail dress. It was the usual type it was cut short showing off her excellently toned legs that were accentuated by what appeared to be no less than four inch stiletto heels.
“Excuse me,” I said, provoking her attention. “I noticed you looking at me.”
“Oh you think I was looking at you,” she shot back.
That cut me short, but wasn’t unexpected from the type of girl that usually frequent parties like this. “Well I saw you looking at me...” I said as she took a sip of something that looked like Champagne from what looked like a Champagne glass.
“I was just looking at you because you were staring at me.” She cut me off letting the glass fall to her side.
“Well maybe I was staring, but I was just trying to figure out who you are. I’ve never seen you anywhere before, and you are definitely someone I wouldn’t miss.”
“Smooth talker are you? I just transferred here.” She said, finally cracking a sly grin.
Now I was thinking, and as I looked back into the hapless party I knew what an utter waste of time this all was. “Do you want to get out of here?”
“Yes.”
Then we were walking through the crowd. We were stealing a bottle of Champagne from the kitchen. We were stumbling down the hall. We were climbing a staircase. We were on the roof. I poured another drink into her glass. I drank from the bottle as I stood on the edge, and finally escaped the eyesores below. Now I could see. The city illuminated as it always was in the distance. The only absolute. The moon struck me that night. Big and bold it made the tar surface we stood on now appear gray. When I looked at her juxtaposed against it all everything appeared in black and white. There were no words. There were no names. No mediocrities. Only this.
I grabbed her then. “Do think there is any hope for this?” I asked her.
“No.” She said.
We kissed. Our arms and hands struggling with buttons and cloth and lace. Then love came in the only form I knew it to take. Our bodies moving slowly about each other. She grasped me, and my head close to hers we moved together in step. Friction creating some warmth on that bleak night. Her hands moved like waves over me. They washed away my thoughts, and when the tide came in I dissolved into the sand and disappeared into the night.
We laid there beneath it all. The smoke from my cigarette rising into the blank air above us, and there was nothing. I was free.
“Why are you here?” She asked me later.
“What do you mean?” She took my cigarette and took a drag before handing it back to me.
“You don’t seem like the type to go to a party like that.”
“Yes I do.”
“Well maybe on appearances, but not...” She stopped.
“Not what?”
“You just seem different then the rest of them.”
“Don’t get your hopes up. I’m still a pretty big asshole. I probably won’t call you.”
“Who said I want you to?” I looked at her. She was smiling.
“I’m looking for something,” I paused. She was still listening. “I’m looking for something real.”
“Like what?” She asked genuinely.
“I don’t know yet.”
“Am I real?”
“I hope so.” I said silently.
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