Reality Can Be Nice

October 15, 2008
The music blares in my ears. Colorful lights dart around the room, from person to person. My eyes search the room for a familiar face. Yet, I see no one. Only girls with their prearranged dates and the other girls and boys in their groups. Here I stand, alone, wanting someone to talk to. To dance with.
I turn around expecting to see just more groups but instead, a tall boy is there, walking towards me. Gazing at me. My best friend. His calm, smooth voice spoke, suddenly, over the loud music.
”May I have this dance?” His hand extends, expecting me to accept it.

“Nothing would make me happier,” I reply, also over the music, smiling my best smile. He pulls me close to him. I reach up, putting my arms up around his broad shoulders, while his hands find my lower back, holding me tight, yet gently, against his strong, muscular body, making me feel safe and wanted. I look up at my prince, who is now gazing into my eyes. Nothing could top this, I think to myself. Dancing with the best prince in this badly lit, hot, sticky room.

His long, light, curly hair sways gracefully with his body. His kind brown eyes glitter in the lights. In his eyes, the kindness and the love he had for me shows like the stars on a clear night.

He gently pulls me closer to him. I don’t resist him. In fact I find myself slowly inching closer to him. I can feel the heat of his body radiating off of his muscular chest and I melt into my prince. I never want to move, and thankfully I don’t have to. The song ends, but he doesn’t release me, he just pulls me closer, kindly demanding another slow dance.
I can feel his warm breath on my face. When we are both ready, he gently takes my hand, link fingers and I follow him off the dance floor, and into the cool, dark, starry night. We get into his purple VW Volkswagen bug, and drive back to where he is staying for the night. The church.
When we found it exploring one day. It was old and abandoned, but not that bad over all. We had to clean it up a little, and since then we have put in a kitchen, bathrooms, and electricity. So no longer does it look haunted and terrifying, but warm and welcome.

“I have to talk to you.” I can sense the urgency in his voice, as we get out of the car, and head into the church, to meet our friends. “I have to figure something out. I think I am going to go talk to your parents, soon. But I don’t know what to say to them?” His voice is less urgent now. “Are we dating and we don’t know it? Do we want to be dating?”

“I have no clue; I guess we should figure that out.” I say with my sleep deprived voice. My answer, like most of my answers, was not satisfying him, I could tell by his contorted face. “Seriously, I have no clue how to help you with this. How about you think out loud, and I’ll help you as much as I can.”

Then I think, ‘am I your girlfriend? We have to figure that out at least.’

After we sneak past our friends, we are all alone, in the small kitchen that smells like pizza and noodles the thin, hallow door creates a barrier between us and our friends in the other room, we struggle to find the words to say to each other, to my mom. What does she want to hear? What do we want to hear?

Many seconds go by, as we still silently search each others eyes; searching for the smallest glimpse of what the other is thinking, just a little reassurance. I realize what I want, but I still can’t tell if I can have it, yet. Then, I realize he’s fighting that same struggle.

“What do I say?” He asks me again. “They think we are dating. Don’t say you don’t know. You know something, but you won’t say it. You want something. I can tell. You really don’t look like you’re okay. So, please, don’t tell me you are. Please just tell me, what you are thinking!” His plea made me sad. He really wants to know how my brain works. I just can’t figure out why.

“Okay, there is nothing I am hiding from you; there’s really very little I ever hide from you. I’m perfectly fine; I just …I haven’t eaten all day. So I’m hungry.” My eyes search the room for anything other than his beautiful brown eyes. I just can’t look at them without breaking down into tears, and we didn’t have time for that, my mom was waiting for us and we were already late.

“I think you’re lying, but if you won’t tell me I can’t make you. I don’t want to make you. But, there is something you’re not telling me. I hope someday you will tell me all your thoughts. I just wish that there was some way for me to see how your mind works. What you’re thinking.”

“Maybe one day, soon, you may visit that scary place you call my mind. I gotta warn you though; you might end up running in the other direction, getting as far away from me as you can. Then I would be sad, (and bored).” I say trying to lighten the mood, relieve some stress.
More like crying, counseling, and a whole load of stuff I don’t want to deal with…especially without you, I think silently to myself.

“You know I would never do that, there is nothing you can do, say, or think that would make me do that.” His calm, thoughtful, sad voice breaks up my thoughts.
I hate it when he does that, with all he knows already, he’s probably right, but still I don’t believe it, with everyone else who has ran, it scares me that he will run, too. I sit silently again, staring at him, waiting.

“Um wait right here…” he says patting the counter I’m sitting on, he walks out the kitchen door, closing it behind him, and then he stands there, probably asking for help from his brother, his best friend, or his best friends girlfriend. Whatever help he did or did not get, he came back in, moving gracefully, yet nervously almost.

He reached the corner of the small newly remodeled kitchen where I was sitting, put his arms on either side of my legs and looked up to my face. He moved my hair so he could see me, my eyes, some of my thoughts behind my eyes. His brown eyes were scared, excited, and hopeful. I knew he had an idea, something he wanted to do, but didn’t know how. There was something else. Almost like breaking a promise, hidden in the corners of his eyes. Finally he speaks, trying to keep his voice calm, normal.



“Just so you know, you’re worth the time,” he starts to say, adding quietly, “and hassling of your family and friends.”
“I was kind of wondering, if you would ever consider being with a long haired, bad dancing freak, amusing, nerdy guy? Who has no idea what he’s doing? For the rest of your life…”
Silence. I want to respond but he is not finished. He is in explain himself mode, and I’m going to let him keep talking, and trying to figure out what is going on behind my eyes.
“I’m going out on a limb here. You see if you say no, I don’t think we can be friends anymore, I will be sad and have to find new friends, so I risk losing you as a friend, either way if I mess this up.” His face changes to a sad, desperate plea, like it did when he found out he might be moving away from all of his friends.
“I really don’t want to lose you, ever. But I’m willing to take this risk. I like you. I really, really like you. A lot. But this is even harder, because… I promised I would never do this, but I can’t keep my promise without losing you. But…I was …wondering, if you would…marry me?”

Join the Discussion

This article has 1 comment. Post your own now!

fishie said...
Oct. 20, 2008 at 3:09 pm
yay. . .still as great as ever. . .
Site Feedback