Chapter 7

They were making me go out. Emily and Julie were making me go out for my birthday. It had been almost a month since I had seen the two of them, and they practically drafted a contract to ensure that we would do something to celebrate. Though they promised to keep their plans low-key, they also refused to allow me to spend my birthday in my apartment by myself. It was nice of them to think of me, and touching of them to make me feel special. I just couldn’t get excited about celebrating another year passing.

We agreed to meet at Deluxe, a local bar/grille for dinner. It was our meeting place since freshman year, when eating there was a weekly ritual. It was slightly trendy in a typical yuppy way, with its dark wood booths and vintage French liquor posters. But, somehow, the atmosphere of the place transcended its somewhat cliché décor. The food was always good. It was prepared with an air of hominess that made you feel warm and relaxed. The prices were reasonable, which allowed us to indulge in eating out more frequently than we probably should have. The noise levels were perfect for conversing without being overheard and the lighting intimate enough to encourage lingering. For me, Emily and Julie, it was a place to go, eat, relax and chat without feeling rushed. It also helped that Emily’s longtime boyfriend was the bartender there; we were treated like part of the restaurant family and received such perks as free desserts and drinks whether we ordered them or not.

Since their graduation last May, Emily, Julie and I got together less frequently. Their lives had changed, and with work and their own love lives, our weekly dinners had gradually become monthly events. Emily, Julie and I had become fairly close since our freshmen year, when by accident, I had become their suite mate. I had a single and they shared the adjoining double room. I was the envy of most guys, and for good reason. Emily and Julie were beautiful girls, both in looks and personality. I was originally reserved about getting close to them. After all, they were them, and I was me. But out living arrangement worked out better than anyone expected, and in the end we became an almost inseparable trio.

I had, what most people would consider, a crush on each of them, for a short period of time…but, in my mind, “crush” wasn’t really accurate. They were each so different from the people I normally associated with. I felt compelled to find out as much as I could about them. Nothing would have happened anyways, since they were in serious relationships. Regardless, as we got to know each other better, our relationship established itself in such a way that romantic feelings for either of them felt as taboo as incest.

I was rushing out the door, already five minutes late. It had been a very long, very disappointing day. I had spent most of the day holed up in our library, researching more articles for my damn research paper in Mr. Becker’s class. What had started as a relatively simple project had snowballed into a huge mess. The past week had been nothing but digging through various papers, books and journals. None of it had to do with the actual focus of my project; I had a stack of papers six inches deep providing me with the “background knowledge necessary to develop a thorough argument”. Those were Mr. Becker’s exact words. He had been kind enough to provide references, but those references had cross-referenced others and I was now feeling overwhelmed by the copious amount of copies I had made, highlighted, notated, and outlined.

I walked into the crowded bar area slightly frazzled, to say the least. It did not help that, as a Friday evening, the place was packed. The bar was shoulder to shoulder people, chatting lively as they waited for their reservation to be called. It drew a fairly regular crowd, and I saw familiar faces around me; familiar because I had seen them on campus, not because I actually knew them personally. I spotted Emily and Julie, attempted to get their attention, and failing, began to navigate through the tight crowd. They were, of course, at the middle of the bar area; this allowed Emily to chat with her boy while he worked and provided ample opportunity for Julie to mix and mingle with her seemingly endless array of social acquaintances.

Julie’s popularity unnerved me. It always made me question why she would choose to spend time with me over others. I mean, who was I to captivate the attention or friendship of someone who was so obviously sought out by others? It was partly why I dreaded having to do things with her that required be out and about. She was always running into people she knew, stopping to chat or catch up, which would leave me standing off on the side, politely waiting, and feeling like a lackey or tool. She always remembered to introduce me to others, but never seemed to notice that the people she introduced me to never remembered that they had met me before. Same old scenario, just new set of people.

Emily spotted me first. I could tell she was dying to scream “Happy Birthday” and make a scene. She knew how much I’d hate that, which probably kept her from actually doing something. It did not, however, settle my nerves as I crossed towards her; I truly feared that she might, at any minute, go ahead and humiliate me. Most of the times my fears were unfounded, but occasionally she would do something just for kicks. It was her way of teasing me, which she did with the constancy of my sister. I countered this by reminding her that, in many states, her relationship with her boyfriend would qualify her for a common-law marriage. That usually stopped her for a while.

Once I made some room for myself, I signaled the bartender. I am not usually a drinker, primarily because I hate the idea of losing control. I always feared of becoming that person – you know that person – who can’t control their inner monologue, who is an ass and doesn’t realize, because he is drunk, what a big ass he is. I didn’t want to give people a reason to dislike me more than I already thought they did.

Given my non-drinking habits, Emily and Julie both stared when I ordered a rum and coke. Hell, it was my birthday, and it had been a downer of one at that. I was ready to relax. Julie couldn’t help herself, and declared that hell was indeed about to freeze over. She then paid for the drink. She and Emily simultaneously asked, “Bad day?”

“You have no idea…I have been on the fourth floor research stacks for the last five hours. My eyes are burning. I don’t want to read another sentence for a month at least.”

“Well, then aren’t you glad we got you out?”

“And aren’t you even more glad we aren’t letting you get back to your paper for the rest of the night?”

I had to laugh. Emily and Julie were a dynamic duo. They balanced each other out so well and always had enough energy left to pick my spirits up if need be. It was infectious, in a way. You just couldn’t be upset when you were around the two of them and they were having a good time.

“Well, I’ll give you that. Tonight is a good night to be out. I swear, I have never wanted to take a paper and just…I dunno…burn it. Rip it up, shred it, take it to a campground and make one gigantic bonfire out of it. Right now the only thing stopping me from setting my work on fire and saying ‘Mr. Becker, take this project and kiss my ass’ is the fact that I don’t keep any matches around my apartment.”

“Well, I can lend you some matches if you want…”

I froze. I recognized the voice immediately, which meant that, of course, Mr. Becker would be right behind me, listening to me rant and rave. Shit, where did he come from? He wasn’t sitting there when I came in. Or, was he, and I just wasn’t being observant enough? I didn’t move, didn’t want to turn around. I stared at Emily who was facing me and looking behind me. I raised my eyebrows and she, unable to help herself, smiled and nodded. Oh hell…how was I getting out of this?

“So do you want the matches?”

I shifted, so that I was, while not exactly facing him, able to make eye contact. Mr. Becker was grinning at me, his eyes lively with laughter. Well, at least he was humored by the whole scenario. Mortified, I remained silent while Emily and Julie began laughing. That’s when the host called us to be seated. I stood up, tripped over the stool I was sitting on, and nearly spilled my drink all over him. Even more flustered, I stumbled over my apology,

“I…ahh…well…ahh…sorry. I apparently…well…can’t…ummm…seem to walk today. Sorry…uhhh…Mr…Mr. Becker.”

I shot him a halfhearted attempted at a smile and turned away before he could respond. I didn’t look back at the direction of the bar until we were seated in a booth. By that time, I was ready to get under the table and hide for the rest of the evening. Emily and Julie, on the other hand, were still laughing. My face must have communicated my mortification, because, each time Emily or Julie tried to face me and say something, they only laughed harder.

“Alright…alright. Can you guys please stop? This is not good, not good. Damn it, this is not good. How the hell was I suppose to know he was behind me. Why didn’t you two say anything? Didn’t you see him? What do I do now?”

I shot out my questions in rapid fire succession. My frantic embarrassment was only making the situation funnier for Emily and Julie. Ha Ha. It was only after the waiter brought us water that they were able to calm down.

“That…now that was unbelievable,” Julie sighed as she sipped some water.

“No kidding…the timing was, bar none, better than any sitcom I’ve ever seen.” Emily smile and patted my hand. “Don’t worry…he didn’t seem that upset.”

“How do you know that? How am I supposed to know that? Oh god, how do I apologize? Do I say something? What do I do?” I was scanning the dining area, looking to see where he might have been seated and who he was meeting. It never crossed my mind that he would come here. I had the impression that he was homebody. But, then again, I am a homebody, and I was out to dinner, so I guess my assumptions were invalid to begin with. Still, I had somehow envisioned Delux as a safe place, my safe place – a place void of such disastrous social encounters as the one that just occurred. I felt so comfortable here; the feeling was, in a moment, utterly decimated. I kept glancing around, acutely aware of the people, the different parties, the table arrangement, the number of waiters, the numerous roving eyes and ears. I had not kept my inner monologue in check and look where it got me.

I didn’t see Mr. Becker the rest of the night. I am not sure if he ever met someone that night or was just at the bar grabbing a drink. It took a while, but Emily and Julie eventually got my mind off the events of that evening. That lasted until I got home. Once I entered my apartment, the events came rushing back. They replayed over and over, while I showered, checked my email, changed for bed. I couldn’t stop feeling that hot flush of burning embarrassment. I couldn’t get over how I stammered and nearly doused Mr. Becker. I tossed and turned, the images repeating endlessly until they were burned into my mind. It ended up being a very long night.