A Night to Forget

I hate this feeling. Winter break. The Villa empties. It was bad enough last year, when Nat was here with me. But this year, Nat is with Ali. Off doing something useful or educational with the latter’s family. They invited me, too, but I’m not ready for that atmosphere. Not yet, in any case. There’ld be too many variables I couldn’t control that I need to be able to control. Which means I’m stuck here with the teachers and other people who can’t or won’t go home.

The only one of those I have any interest in hanging out with ever is Ter. But Ter is, well, Ter. She’s not going to hang out with me. I’m not sure what she’s doing, but it definitely isn’t a team activity. Probably plotting some dastardly deed. Never know though. She’s been getting awfully friendly with one of the freshmen. If I didn’t know her, I might think she was making a friend. I do know her, though, so instead I’m just suspicious. Either way, though, nothing I can do. So I’m left here, alone. Wallowing in my own existence, in all it’s glory and worthlessness. Well, three minutes isn’t too bad. Not great either. I need to get out of here. Looking around my room, I catch a glimpse of myself in my mirror. Correction, I need to take a shower, then get the hell out of this dorm room. Stripping and turning on my Spotify, I step into the bathroom to take a nice, long, scalding shower.

As the water pours over me and the music blasts all other thoughts out of my head, I relax, dancing along to the beat. It could almost be called calming. It ends far too soon. Climbing out of the shower, I dry off best I can, staring blankly at myself in the mirror. I have to find something useful or fun or relaxing to do, besides personal hygiene. It isn’t like there’s that much to do in this small town. No night life to speak of, not to the extent I like. I suppose I could go to the bar. There is a pretty nice one off of East Saint Joseph Street. Got a good selection on tap, too. Shaking my head, I reenter my room. Time to get dressed.

Dressed and ready, I grab my wallet and head out. Walking out of Weston, I look out over the quad. Empty, pretty much as expected. A couple down by the Run, having a romantical picnic. Other than that, no one to be found. Shaking my head I turn around and head into town. I don’t need to deal with that. Not today, anyways. The wind blows a chill across my still somewhat damp scalp. Reaching into my coat pocket, I pull out a wool cap. It may mess up my coif a little, but it will mean I won’t freeze during the walk. Worth it, I think as I pull the cap over my hair. After that, the rest of the walk is a breeze. I make my way over to East Saint Joseph, then start walking deeper into town. Two blocks past main, I turn back towards the run and less than a block in, I’m at Amber & Cedar.

It’s a nice place. I’ve only been here once before, and that was a celebratory thing. Ter took Jase and myself here after Amanda left last year, before our trip, as a sort of farewell to the semester. Evidently and unsurprisingly, she’s a regular. It feels hipster, to the extreme, from the minimalist art deco decor to the exposed brick in the walls. I head over to the bar and sit down at it. Pulling off my wool cap and sliding off my coat, I give a friendly nod to the bartender. He walks over to me while I’m placing my coat over the bar chair’s back. “Could I have a gimlet?” I ask politely. I put my credit card down.

The bartender nods at that. “I’ll get right on it,” he says, equally politely. Then, picking up the card, he walks away from my seat.

I shove my hat into my coat’s pocket. In doing so, I realize my hair probably looks like garbage, or at least not as good as it should. Looking around for a mirror, I notice that the glass covering the bottles behind the bar, at the right angle, is reflective. Leaning slightly so I could see my hair, I try my best to fix it with my hands.

From beside me, on the side I’m not leaning towards, I hear a voice I vaguely recognize. “Really? You’re that vain?”

I can’t quite place it, but I know her voice from somewhere. Finishing my hair is more important, though. “Don’t be ridiculous,” I jokingly reply, trying to keep a couple stray cowlicks into place, “I’m far more than that vain.” Finally, after a few more seconds of wrassling it, I give up. Turning, I see Sierra. “Oh, it’s you.”

“It’s me?” she asks, “Who were you expecting?”

I avoid her question. “I didn’t know you came here.”

“It’s the only halfway decent bar in town. And you didn’t answer my question,” she replies.

“I didn’t?” I ask, smirking, “How odd.”

The bartender comes over with my gimlet. “Here you go,” he says to me, then noticing I fixed my hair, adds, “Looks good.”

“Thank you,” I say, then turn towards Sierra with my best look of superiority.

The bartender notices her as well, and asks, “The usual, Miss Leyten?”

Sierra nods, “Of course, Fred.” She, too, opens up a tab. Once the bartender, Fred evidently, left, she looks back at me. “You could’ve been polite, ordered me a drink.”

I shrug. “I could’ve, but then I thought about it and decided nah. I’m sure you understand, I don’t make a habit of doing nice things for people who generally irritate me.”

“Fair enough, I suppose,” she says, though she doesn’t move. I sigh, and enjoy my drink.

A few awkward, silent drinks in, for me in any case, another joined the bar. Another irritation. “What are you doing here?” Ter asks from behind me as she nods to the bartender. Unlike Sierra, she doesn’t even have to speak to the man. Also unlike Sierra, I don’t need to look to recognize her voice. She folds a few bills, placing them on the bar.

“Needed to get out of the dorms,” I reply honestly, “Don’t you have some dastardly deed to be scheming up?”

“No,” Ter answers in her level tone, “I only scheme between the hours of eight and five.” I chuckle at that, because it is clearly a joke. Not from tone, but content.

Sierra shakes her head. “How do you even tell if she’s being serious?” she asks.

“Simple,” I say, “She’s always being serious.” Ter nods a single time in agreement. “Don’t worry, you’ll speak Ter in time at least as good as I do. Just keep at it.” She looks over at me, into my soul. I can feel exactly what she’s saying with that look. I’m an idiot and also don’t know what I’m talking about. It’s a look I’ve gotten used to over the last year or so. I’ve found, in many people’s regards, it’s probably her favorite look.

“Good to know I’ll understand it as well as someone who can barely speak English,” Sierra states, rolling her eyes at my completely understandable mistake.

With Ter there, at least, we actually talk some over the next several hours. Not much, as Ter’s got a tendency to abbreviate herself whenever she isn’t telling a joke, but still, we talk. Mostly about nothing, though Ter’s weird connection to the freshman kid, Irene is brought up a few times. Whenever she’s brought up, it’s all me and Sierra talking and looking at Ter for any hint of a reaction. There’s never one, but it’s worth a shot, right. Evidently, they’ve been hanging a lot, which I knew, but they also don’t ever do anything official together. Other than in our advising sessions, they might as well not know each other, as far as admin is concerned. Which is disconcerting, of course, though not near as disconcerting as how free Sierra is talking about it, or how drunk I’m getting.

It’s at this point I start fading in and out. One second I’m sitting at the bar drinking, then suddenly I’m in the bathroom, peeing and missing the urinal. That sort of thing. But I’m having a blast while doing it. Not the peeing part. I’m actually just living my life, not worrying about my future. It’s amazing. I head back out to the bar and order another drink from Fred. As I sit down, I nod to Ter and Sierra as if to say, you can continue, I am back.

My feet hurt. I realize quickly, it’s because I’m dancing. Why am I dancing, I don’t know. This little town doesn’t even have a club to dance at. Looking around to see where I am, everything seems a tad blurry. Ter’s with me, though. She has a beer in her hand. Odd. Did she bring me here? Turning as I bounce and bob my head arrhythmically, I see Sierra here, too. She’s dancing really well, actually. Maybe we brought her with us, maybe she comes here on her own. Wherever here is. Evidently, she also has nothing better to do this evening. I carefully start to make my way over to where she’s dancing to make fun of her for that fact.

Then I’m standing on a rooftop, no idea where. I don’t remember how I got here, nor why my coat is missing. I look around, and get the sudden urge to shout out, “Eat shit, nature.” I blame the onset of hypothermia. I go to look for my coat when I see, sitting on the edge of the rooftop, a bottle of beer. What the heck, I think, picking it up. No one else is here, so it’s probably mine. And I’m feeling a tad thirsty. I take a nice swig and, walking with it, look around the rooftop for my coat. It isn’t up there. I check the door down. It’s locked. Okay, I think, how did I get up here. It’s only one story. I probably climbed. Did I climb? I look over the ledge. My coat is on the ground. Here goes nothing, I think as I hop over the edge, hope it doesn’t hurt too much.

I’m sitting. My coat’s not here. Again. This time my hat’s missing, too. Back at the bar. No, a different bar. Looks more casual. Less hipster. Ter’s missing. Sierra’s there, though. She’s telling me some story. I nod and smile, and give affirmative noises when I feel it seems appropriate. I can barely hear the story. My head-thoughts are throbbing too loudly. I take a sip of my drink. It has a green tint to it. Odd. Tastes good, though. Kind of licorice-y. Has a nice kick to it, too. I decide then and there, I need another of whatever this is called.

Now I’m lying down. I feel light. Significantly more stuff is missing. Struggling to open my eyes, I see the sun rising. I do not recognize the room I’m in. The bed I’m in. I can feel the covers against my skin. Definitely lacking in the clothes department. Turning my head to look at the floor, I can see why. My pants, underwear, shirt are strewn across it, intermingled with other clothes. Something touches my arm. Warm. Not something. Someone. Slowly, I turn to look at my under covers neighbor. “Well, crap,” I mutter.

Sierra, too, opens her eyes. “Oh, fuck me,” she complains, equally unsettled by this turn of event, “You remember anything after the dancing?”

“A cold rooftop. And I think I drank absinthe,” I reply, then I quickly add, “This didn’t happen, right?”

“Right,” she agrees, “Never happened.”

“Never gonna happen,” I state emphatically.

“Exactly,” she says. Neither of us moves to leave the bed, though.