HOW

I stand outside the apartment with mixed feelings. I have a curious reaction to parties, and being co-host amplifies my ambivalence. I loved planning the party, the guest lists, the invitation designs, the food, the décor. I loved getting dressed for the occasion, the rituals of makeup and experimentation with colors and textures. The dorms in college are even more fun, full of frantic activity, halls with blaring music, general shrieks punctuating the atmosphere of high strung expectation. After being caught up in the preparation, I usually get to the event itself and am suffocated by boredom within the first five minutes.

I get out of the car, and everyone around me pours into the apartment. The girls practically run up the stairs, laughing and giggling like kids, the guys laughing right along with them. Pre-partying started a long time ago for them. I hesitate outside, decide to get a drink from the terrace first.

I stumble outside, eyes unadjusted from the lighted staircase to the darkness of the starlit patio. The party planner in me double checks the fairy lights twinkling behind the bar (normal tape wasn’t strong enough to hold the up earlier in the evening). I had asked one of the other hosts to get duct tape and think about going to find him. But the lights seem to be holding up, even though some of the white tape is visible. Should I should fix it? Maybe I should stop being uptight and forget it.

My immediate friends are all tearing up the dance floor in one big happy herd, and I’m wandering around like a lost sheep. Big crowds just seem to make me lonelier, more so than a small group of close friends which can make me forget it. I greet a couple of acquaintances around the room, settle onto a sofa. If I was still in school, I would have died rather than be caught sitting alone, but somewhere along the way I started seeking out sitting apart, maybe because it seemed to match my feelings of isolation. I know my friends don’t understand it, get irritated with it sometimes, but melancholy seems to come out on absolutely inappropriate junctures.

I start people-watching from my vantage on the sofa, enjoying the cranberry juice that never seems to be around on normal days. I notice a group of three a little to my left, a couple I know, and someone they’ve brought along. I’m slightly amused, because the stranger seems to be noticeably a third wheel. He bends down to the girls ear, and I get a flash of the side of his face, and suddenly I can’t breathe. Glass paused halfway to my lips, I watch him give a friendly jab on the guys arm, and turn around. My heart, surprisingly still beating, jams my throat. It’s him. He starts walking, towards the door. He’ll have to cross past the sofa where I’m sitting. I can’t move, terrified if I start breathing, he’ll look my way and notice.

I shrink back an infitismal inch into the cushions, and that’s all it takes.

The movement makes him give a casual glance towards my sofa, and immediately , I can feel his eyes on my face. I stare at my glass, pretending to be lost in thought. Sure enough, I see a pair of jeans walk into my line of vision. I take a sip. The brown shoes are an inch from my feet. I cant ignore them. Making the best of it, I look up. Take slight satisfaction in his pole-axed expression. Do a mental inventory and am glad I wore my sequined silver top and not the boring black one. I pretend to be surprised, say hi. I’m still sitting, craning my neck up, decide to stand. Regret the decision immediately because he doesn’t move back, and I’m slightly off balance stuck between the sofa and him. I try to sidle out. I wish he didn’t look so intense. God help me, its so good to see him.

“Hi”. He barely gets the word out.

“Good to see you after so long, how come you’re here?” I hope that doesn’t sound too rude.

“Work buddies.” He gestures to the couple behind.

For the sake of appearance, I look and then give an “Oh” of polite comprehension.

There’s a little silence, and I stare at his chest. It looks good in the grey t-shirt. It’s like he just rolled out of bed, but it looks good to me anyway. I can just imagine my cheek pressed against it. He looks so miserable, I feel like hugging him, hugging him and then kissing him, and then never letting go. I feel like screaming at him like a madwoman, and ask him why I still can't let go of him, why I keep looking for him in every room, in every event, every day. Why if I don't get over him and move on, I will break into a million shimmering pieces and never be put back together by any other men in the years to come.

I can’t bear the silence another second. “Well nice seeing you, I have to go do some host-ly duties”, and I sidle past and make a run for it. I’m almost out of range, but he grabs my arm. “Wait, don’t go.” I tug at my arm, embarrassed, aware of curious speculation from people here and there. To my horror I think I’m going to cry. I tug at my arm, trying to pull away and hoping he never lets go. I break free, and ignoring the speculative glances, almost run out the door, onto the dance floor because I know I’ll lose him there. I almost wish it wouldn’t be so easy to do that, but I can’t, can’t forgive him again. Damn his soul.

I feel like I’ve run a marathon.

I drag one of my friends off the floor, and beg him to drop me home. I cant stand this anymore.
I sit alone in the dark in my room, identical blue fairy lights turned on in the dark for the first time in a year. I’m raging curses inside my head, because just seeing him, just avoiding him, just the fact that I was standing near him, I feel like my life is suddenly worth living again, excitement and anticipation all back. I try to bury my head and my thoughts into my pillow, but my stupid soul yearns to forget all silliness and just go back. I know where he’ll be waiting. But I’ve been there before, forgiven too much. I hate myself.
I replay it all in my mind. I can’t stop torturing myself. Then suddenly, I can’t think. I’m back in time, watching from inside myself.

I’m setting up my fairy lights on one side of the room. He comes in , and my heart stops, like it always does. He comes straight towards me. With my sweaty hair in my eyes, covered in scotch tape and dirty clothes, he looks at me and I feel beautiful. He stops, then takes a step closer towards me. My toes curl. My hands, glue, tape and all, press against his chest as he leans in. We’re both laughing. He takes the string of fairy lights, wraps them around me so I cant move, and then plants a big kiss, right on my mouth.
He was the first boy I allowed to do that.

Fast forward. Home video number two ladies and gentlemen.

We're all listening to an impromtu jam session in the yard, when he walks in. I'd heard he's back but I'd managed to avoid running into him till now. I sneak a look between the crowd from my sitting position, and see the side of his jaw, and my heart hurts with memory. His hair is longer, brushing past his collar. I'll be leaving tomorrow, and I'm so close to avoiding meeting him entirely. But then he’s passing in front of me and some stupid girl a couple of feet to my left shrieks at some joke. He looks over automatically, freezes when he sees me. Trips over his own feet, momentum carrying him to my feet. I can’t help it, I burst out laughing. I lean over, help him scramble to sitting position. We’re almost eye level. And like every time we’re together, its magic. In mid kiss, with people I don’t know pointing and snickering, and people I do know sighing and giving me thumbs up signs, I forgive everything. My soul speaks to him. That was the first time I realized I love the bastard.

I’m trying to eject the tape people, it seems to be jammed. I’ll try pulling the plug. Oops, too late…

I’ve gone to the roof of the library. There was a astronomy lab up there in the evening, so I know it’ll be unlocked till morning, unbeknownst to the guards patrolling the campus downstairs. I know he’ll be there. I see the entire city, the yellow pinpoints stretching out to the fields that continue on in breathtaking view. A airplane goes by overhead, deafeningly loud, so low I can see people in the windows. Its winter, and we’re very close to a landing strip. I hear him behind me.
“I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
I suddenly feel like crying. Maybe its PMS. I turn around, and my heart takes a picture. I know, I just know, that no matter what happens, that whenever I will picture him it will be like this, just simply standing there, looking at me.
“Yes you did you bastard”. I smile, because I feel like doing anything but that.
He grins, and as always, my heartbeat pauses, then picks up slowly. If this was the movies we’d break into a slow sultry song and dance under waterfalls right now.
He comes closer, and wraps his arms around my waist instead.

Ladies and gentlement: All the memories apprear to be scripted and have no bearing on any persons real or imaginery. Reality couldn't have been as picturesque. I might as well try to remeber the true picture. Thank you for your patience.

Oops there seems to be a technical fault.

How am i supposed to playback reality again?