It was Wednesday night and he has never been so nervous in his life. He has reserved a table for two in the best Italian restaurant in the city. He arrived much earlier than expected. It’s great that the place didn’t have the usual crowd they have on a Friday or Saturday evening. The view of the mystical moon kissing the calm ocean in the background made the scene more romantic.
He looked around and there she is – smiling in the lobby, waving at him. He answered back with a tensed smirk.
She wore a little black dress that complimented her features very well. Tinting her face with nothing but a hint of red on the lips, she looked younger, vibrant and sultry at the same time. The natural curl of her hair swayed with the cool night breeze as she walked to him.
She has a pair of pink ballerina flats to complete her look. Despite her petite stature, she was never really comfortable wearing high heels. She’s that one girl in class who stood out for having the most awkward walk on anything above two inches.
He could not help but chuckle.
Poised as always, she strut to the table near the terrace, catching attention from everyone. She got heads turning and jaws dropping; tables went silent and eyes ran down her spine as she passed by.
After three long years, he’s glad she stayed the same– sweet and bubbly, strong but fragile, opinionated and confident. She’s the girl he always wanted and loved for so long. And tonight, he was going to tell her. Finally.
He was practicing his lines when suddenly the figure he was staring at started fading, spinning next. He closed his eyes, rubbed it hastily and opened it again. It was not helping at all. Everything was blurry and moving in a fast circular motion.
Is this the effect of the Enzo Boglietti wine I ordered earlier? It couldn’t be. I swear I had no more than two sips.
His head felt heavy and anywhere he looked, everything and everyone was spinning uncontrollably. He tried to keep his eyes wide and searched for her as the image blended in with the people.
Trying to stand and clear his mind, he raised his left hand and looked at his watch. It was 11:11 pm. A tad dizzy, he looked again, half expecting he was just imagining. He tried the hardest to regain his presence of mind.
Liar, he thought.
“Wednesday for sure,” her angelic voice echoed in his head the same time he remembered the feeling of excitement and happiness associated with those words. “I promise I’ll see you on Wednesday.”
A week has passed after she made that promise. He closed and opened his eyes again.
“Liar,” aloud this time.
Reaching for his back pocket, his fingers felt the slim side of his phone. A familiar number appeared on the screen after he pressed one on speed dial. His ears laid closely against the phone. He put it down, pressed one and listened again.
He repeated this three times but to no avail.
Breathing deeply, he dragged himself outside the door. Acting as if he was not intoxicated enough, he resigned to the nearest bar two blocks away. Inside, he pulled a stool, sat with a slouch and stared at the collection of alcohol in front of him.
“What’s for ya?” The man behind the bar asked.
“Give me anything,” he replied, showing no interest.
The band on the lounge started playing One Bourbon, One Scotch, One Beer. Damn, that’s exactly was he’s going to have this “splendid” Wednesday night!
“Night’s great to cel’brate don’t ya think?” The bartender handed him his drink.
He gulped one shot and shouted, “Yes, we are going to celebrate my heart’s foolishness at its best tonight!”
“One bourbon, one scotch, one beer. Well I ain’t seen my baby since I don’t know when. I’ve been drinking bourbon, whiskey, scotch and gin. Gonna get high man I’m gonna get loose, need me a triple shot of that juice. Gonna get drunk don’t you have no fear. I want one bourbon, one scotch and one beer”
Narratives of a Dreamer 