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The Night She Fell in Love
By Kelli Springer
She crossed the room, weaving her way through loud swaying boys. For the past three and a half weeks since she’d made her move and made him hers, there’d been nothing but boys or ass holes. All his friends were drunks, or worse. He was a drunk too, maybe the worst of them, but he liked her, made her feel important sometimes even special. So what if he drank constantly. She didn’t want to be like him, she just wanted to be in the atmosphere that he provided. Maybe she didn’t like him as much as she should’ve. She certainly didn’t love him. But she did like being around him, and for now that was enough.
She wasn’t sure why she stayed sometimes. Didn’t know why she pretended to be so impressed by him. She did know, however, that she was meant to be there, in that house, with all those people. If she let the alcohol scare her away she would never know why she felt this way. So yes, she was a little selfish. Perhaps she deserved the times when he ignored her. Or when he passed out and left her struggling with her shyness in the midst of chaos. But it was a price she was willing to pay. She’d never got to do this sort of thing in high school; she’d never been anyone important. Now, at the age of twenty, she would make up for lost time. So maybe that was it, maybe that’s why she stayed. It was still too soon to know.
It was during the times when she was forced to mingle that she learned which of his friends were approachable and which would ignore her. There was her boyfriend’s twin. All self inflicted scars and harsh words. He didn’t look like his brother. She would never have considered giving him a second thought had she not been introduced to, and, at times, left alone with him. He was bigger than his twin, and their faces weren’t the same. Something about him made her want to pick him apart. He seemed solid, unstoppable, intimidating and still she was drawn to him.
There was the redhead with glasses, he seemed a little different, and was the nicest of them. She felt an instant connection with him, he was more like she was; quite, shy, not quite as hard as everyone else pretended to be. He didn’t say much, and when he did she listened. She always kept track of where he was and made sure to be close enough to catch any conversation he was a part of just to hear him talk. At times she wondered if there wasn’t a reason she couldn’t get him out of her head. But she ignored it. She had no choice; she didn’t want the scandal it would cause if she didn’t. She knew little about him.
Tonight was not unlike the 30 or 40 before it; loud music, beer, cigarette smoke, and people talking over each other. She didn’t bother knocking this time, taking the advice that it was better to just let herself in. She found her boyfriend sitting out back, controlling the radio and conversation. His dark eyes already showing the signs of the beer in his hand and the nine or ten before it.
He smiled when he saw her. “Hey.” He pulled her to him and presented his cheek for her to kiss.
“Hi.” She strained to be heard over the music exploding from the portable stereo, directing her greeting to everyone there. There was murmured response, after which she was promptly forgotten by most.
“So, what did you do today?” He asked. She took the lawn chair he offered telling him she’d done nothing. She completed their routine by returning the question. He beamed at the chance to tell his newest tale.
She loved the way he told a story, he was so animated, so enthusiastic. When he spoke everyone was drawn in. She liked being the aim of such a story it made her feel as if she fit in. Like she was a part of them, not just a visitor in this loud, vulgar world. He told her about the night before and a show he’d been to.
She didn’t say much, and the conversation moved on swiftly without her. She watched the sky grow dark while she wondered how long she could keep up this facade. She knew it was only a matter of time before they found out she didn’t belong, and then he would send her away without a second thought. She’d seen it happen; once he decided she was not cool enough she would be banished. She wanted so much to avoid this that she pretended not to notice that he was losing interest. She ignored the fact that his calls were less frequent now, his smile more forced.
She was submerged in thought when she realized that he had been talking to her. “What?” She shook the heaviness of her thoughts away.
“Want to go inside?” He looked a bit annoyed. “You cold?”
“Sure.” She stood and followed him through the sliding glass door.
The music and talk were louder here than they had been outside. (The neighbors couldn’t hear it as well inside the house so there was less worry about volume.) There was a gathering of people in the kitchen and dining room. The redhead sat on the back of the couch facing the kitchen. The scared twin was at the bar in the middle of a story that had everyone laughing.
“He’s been telling that same fucking story for the past week.” She wondered how she could date someone with so much contempt. After a slow scan of the room he moved to stand over a chair and its occupant. He didn’t have say a word the guy in the chair moved. She was amazed at how much control he had. She wondered if he would ever treat her that way. The thought worried her, even scared her. Her mind launched, again, into all the horrible scenarios that could be her future. She knew she couldn’t handle arguments with him; she’d always end up caving in. He could be so hateful when he needed to, something she knew she was not capable of.
“He passed out again, hua?” She looked up to find a smiling face half covered with glasses. Suddenly her stomach twisted, and her face felt hot. She looked to the chair where her fading love had (by brute force) taken his seat. His head hung heavily, his breath came in slow deep hefts. He was out cold, and she was alone again.
“Yeah.” She shrugged, trying to hide her nervousness. She told herself that she shouldn’t be feeling this way. She wasn’t interested in him that way. She knew she wasn’t. He was nice, and she thought he was adorable, but she didn’t like him like that. So why all the sudden was her mind sending her flashes of what it would be like to be tangled in his arms in a moment of heated passion. “What’s wrong?” He elbowed her. “Just wake him up.”
She didn’t look at him; she didn’t want him to see her blush. “No, He doesn’t wake up after he passes out. It’s not a big deal; there are other people to talk to.” Had she just flirted!? Did the smile on her face seem to him like an invitation? If so it was an accident! His answer was a smile; she caught it from the corner of her eye.
“Hey! wanna beer!?” A scarred arm stretched out stopping under her nose. Was she being made fun of? Everyone knew she didn’t drink.
“No thanks.”
“I know.” He smiled. “So why don’t you drink?” He opened the beer he’d been holding out to her and drained a third of it in one pull.
“I don’t know. Just don’t.” She couldn’t decide if this attention was something she liked or something she could do without. She tried to think of something clever to add to her “I just don’t” but drew a blank.
“Are you afraid that you’ll drink one beer and be a drunk for life?”
“No. I just don’t like to drink, never really have.” She said feeling her face turning red.
“That’s cool.” He hadn’t been making a joke of her after all. He was just trying to make conversation. She relaxed a little.
The discussion shifted and moved on without her as it had before. She didn’t mind. She didn’t want to be the focus of tonight’s talk. She wanted to test out her feelings, think her butterflies, and rosy cheeks through. She had taken the spot next to her new found interest, and she hadn’t felt too weird about it yet. So maybe her reaction to his attention had been shyness. Maybe she was nervous because she had to speak to someone she didn’t normally. She disregarded the voice in her head pointing out that she had spoken with him before, and never reacted the way she had moments ago.
She let her memory wonder to the first time she met him. How she had perceived him as someone she would get along with, someone she wanted to know. How she felt that out of everyone she’d met in that time, he would be someone she could talk to. The vision was frayed though, and she wasn’t sure if it all happened during their first meeting, or over the first few days she had been around him. She remembered two nights ago when she had taken a car full of boys on a beer run. Reaching in the backseat for her bag, her hand had collided with his leg. A shock passed through her when it did, and her heart rate doubled. And the night she’d been waiting at the door for someone to answer. Pounding each time there was a break in the music, feeling a little more stupid with each attempt. Then through the blinds came the flash of his glasses. When he pulled the door open, he smiled and told her she didn’t have to knock. She had found herself speechless, and unable to hide her smile. Then there was tonight…but that didn’t mean-
A burst of laughter snapped her back to the present. Suddenly she felt hot, and her stomach twisted itself up again. He was sitting rite next to him, they were almost touching! Had anyone seen through her?! Could they sense how nervous she was around him? Could they tell that she-
“So, do you work tomorrow?” His eyes where on her, he was so close. She suddenly wanted to move. There was a stool across from him that had been abandoned; it would take one quick movement for her to get to it. Her mind moved franticly over what might happen if she did. Would people only suspect her more? Would he think that she didn’t like being close to him?
She took a deep breath realizing that she was taking too long to answer his question. “Y-yeah. At six in the morning.” She cursed her shaking voice. She dare not look at face. He would see her red cheeks, her frantic eyes. She kept her gaze locked on the stool, its leopard print beckoning her to claim it before anyone else did.
“That sucks! It’s Friday night. Don’t you ever get to stay out late?”
“Not with this job. I hate it; I wanna find a new one.” She forced herself to calm down. She wanted to get to know him. She couldn’t freak out every time he engaged her in conversation.
“I wanna find a new job too.” He was staring at the side of her head. She knew she should make eye contact, but she still needed time to compose herself.
“Maybe we should go around sometime and look.” She was surprised at her own words. She had just set herself up to be alone with him.
“We should.” He agreed.
Again his attention was forced away from her. Again she became a silent bystander, laughing when the cue came, frowning when the stories grew dark, or complicated, and she was relieved.
She tried to keep her thoughts from pulling her in, and tried not to be so obvious about her questionable motives. The night was beginning to wind down. People were leaving; couches were strewn with the limp, twitching bodies of those who had crashed into drunken sleep. The music was at an almost low volume. She knew she wouldn’t be at work in three hours like she was supposed to be. She had given in to this idea at around midnight, and had planned to stay at the house for as long as she could. The empty stool became her final resting place when a third person sat on the back of the couch next to her and it couldn’t bare weight of three people without tipping backward and nearly sending them all headfirst into the bar. She had taken this as a sign.
Now she was sitting across from him, on the second stool sat the life of tonight’s conversation, explaining how he’d given himself the deepest of his scars. There were a few diehards left, all knotted in the kitchen with the remainder of the beer in their hands. She was tired now, and she couldn’t help her empty stare.
“Are you going to work today?” She didn’t fight the urge; she couldn’t think to, her mind was too slow; she met his gaze. His eyes where glazed, and sluggish behind his glasses, and for the first time she saw how very blue they were.
“No.” She felt the simple response slide from her lips numbly.
She heard him talking, telling her about his work, but the words fell away before they reached her. Everything was falling away. She fought it a little, telling herself she was being dramatic, but she was lost. She wondered if someone had turned off the record player, if everyone had stopped talking. Because she heard nothing, saw nothing, except for his low calm voice, and pale eyes. She had never felt this before, never been so submerged in anyone, or felt a connection like the one she did now. She didn’t think of the complications this would cause. She didn’t fear the outcome of this new found emotion. The only thing she could think, the only piece of consciousness that got through, was that she found something important, something she couldn’t let go of. Everything else was absorbed by blue eyes framed in red lashes.
Slowly the world returned, melting in around her. She was smiling, and talking freely with him, though she had no idea what she was saying. The music became audible over the rush of blood in her ears. The remaining crowd was being ushered out; soon the door was locked securely behind them. She heard herself telling him that she needed to sleep, that she had to get home, wishing she could recapture the moment she had just had, wondering if he felt anything.
“Yeah, me too.” He walked with her to the door, opened it, and told her that he would see her later. And then he was gone, the click of the lock assuring her that the night was at its end.
She drove home that morning, tired and exhilarated. Knowing that never in her life would she feel something so wonderful, so confusing, or so terrifying again. She knew that this would change everything. That what she felt, for the first and last time, was love.
