Dreams have been vivid.
A lot has changed in a year. The last post I had before starting anew was documenting the break-up. I went back to find the entries that reminded me of when we started. Instead, I found awkward drunken memories from in between, with people completely unrelated, but totally relevant.
We had broken up just a month prior. I thought it was the moment to finally face what I thought I wanted. I made trips to San Diego and to Santa Cruz to test the boundaries, only to come back to LA even more confused.
The night has a surreal quality to it. Everything was a bit last minute, because I wasn't expecting to attend the meeting, but my presence was necessary and I booked my flight only a few days before. I wasn't drinking as much as the others, using my antibiotics as an excuse (but really, to keep me out of trouble). I am switching between interacting and watching, egging on the drinkers with more shots of tequila, then stepping back and watching the madness. (Yes, I am an instigator. I can't help it sometimes.)
I watch as they are embracing in the kitchen. They are talking to each other and you can see the looks from the others in the "party room." We all know one of them likes the other. The question is, will something happen? The lights go out, as an over-eager and very drunk friend decides to shake up the jar a bit (if you will allow me to use a metaphor here). They step out of the kitchen, looking a bit confused. He stumbles out and I follow after him. He takes my hand and leads me up the stairs to his room.
He collapses on the floor of his bedroom near the door. No one knows what just happened, but it's clear that he is very drunk. He pulls me in and I can smell the tequila on his breath. The smell makes me a little drunk too. I take him to the bathroom and leave him there as I go downstairs for a cup of water. I can feel the eyes on me, but I walk with my head up, determined to find a clean cup and some fresh water for him. I don't make eye contact with anyone downstairs as I march upstairs. I find him cleaning himself up and he pulls me close again. This time his breath is minty and fresh.
I walk to the window. Suddenly, people barge through the door and throw on the lights. There is yelling and laughing and then... collapse. More people on the bed. She giggles in her drunkeness. The first time she has been like this in front of us. People leave the room, leaving the three of us alone. He turns the light off again. Slyly, who knows when, he locks the door. We are on the bed... giggling. We know this is scandalous. Being in a dark room alone is enough to fuel gossip amongst our friends downstairs.
He's drunk. His hands are moving everywhere. On me. On her.
I'm confused.
Then it dawns on me.
He's drunk.
She and I giggle, knowing that the jokes are starting downstairs.
What do we say? What is our alibi? Nothing happened, right?
3:22am... we leave. He calls me a few minutes later. Where are you? Come back? Stay over here.
I laugh. He's drunk. I tell him to wait fifteen minutes... that if he isn't asleep, then I'll go back. What he doesn't know is that I would go back in an instant if I could, except, he wouldn't remember the next morning. Fifteen minutes will tell me if he will remember. He remembers the first five and ten minutes, but in the last fifteen, I can hear him falling asleep on the phone.
So ends my night in Santa Cruz.
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