It was Sunday when I started thinking about how people go out and find their soulmates without even knowing they will find them. Because looking at me, I am a fucking mess in that area. Of course, I go on dates sometimes, but for a very long time — almost a decade, mind you — I have never met someone who makes me feel butterflies. Do people still call them butterflies? Whatever.
I stopped pitying myself and got up to clean my house because it was fucking dirty. Yes. It was dirty. I have been a mess these days — literally — and all I want to do is read books, drink coffee, or watch something that makes me feel ick. Ick, because reading romance and watching romance are completely different things.
First, reading is beyond — I can use my imagination however I want. Watching, however, limits me. I don't like how everything is visually decided for me.
Second, I know the actors and actresses are not real people in those stories. They are just playing. But in books, the world feels real to the concept of itself.
I don't know if my movie-maniac friend would agree with me, but I said what I said. Even if she always replies, every time I mention my very correct and objective opinion:
"You are just so sadly sad you can't even bear to see them even though you read like a nerd."
Maybe she's right. But I will continue unseeing the point.
⸻
After cleaning the house — finally — Ada called. I was so tired that I didn't want to answer, but I had to. Because yesterday I said, like an idiotic person,
"Yeah, let's go out and release some stress."
Now I didn't have any stress to release. I would just be forcing myself to do it.
I answered.
"Please don't tell me you are backing out of the plan because I will literally come and kill you," she said.
Such a drama queen.
"No, I'm just kind of tired after cleaning my shit out of the house, but I will be ready in two hours," I said.
She whoofed.
"Why are you always late? We said grab a bite at seven, and I made reservations."
Omg? How am I late? I thought. It was 4:45 pm.
"Ada. Relax. It's not even five, for God's sake. Just come to my house and let's get ready together. I don't have any idea what to wear. Should I wear the classic little black dress, or something casual like my favorite purple flowered—"
She yelled.
"NO! Not your purple flowered book-nerd-looking dress!"
Ouch.
"I'm coming to your house, and I will help. I don't want to be the only one who looks hot because I'll look hot in my red dress."
She would. Her red dress suits her perfectly.
⸻
After about 30 minutes, she came, and I was just out of the shower. I was planning to sit with my bathrobe for a minute and drink my social battery coffee before we left, but of course she was already hyped and here.
"Hey. You look hot," I said.
She answered with her dark blue ocean eyes. I like her mimicking expressions.
"You can wear purple, but not the flowers. I remember you have that little purple dress — like the version of all girls having a black dress. Am I right?"
Yeah. She was. But that dress had memories. I didn't wear it anymore.
"Ada…" I said, looking at her like — no, you can't make me.
"Hazel. Stop. With. This. Fucking. Bullshit. It's just a dress, for fuck's sake!" she yelled.
"It was a long time ago, and it's YOUR dress. Your favorite dress in your color. It suits you well. Why would you think you can't wear it? It's been a hell of a long time after that day."
She looked at me like I was a little puppy.
"Honey. Just because of that day—"
I stopped her.
"No. Don't make me remember like I forgot. Okay. I will wear it. Because, just like you said, I like that dress."
⸻
After 27 minutes of searching, we finally found that fucking dress. Don't ask me where I hid it. It was hilarious when it suddenly appeared. It was wrinkled a little, but it was a fitted dress, so I thought it would look fine.
I put on my most comfortable high heels — my school booties.
Then I remembered tomorrow was Monday. A fucking syndrome day. And I had to work. And my work is surrounded by kids. I'm a fucking teacher, for fuck's sake.
I turned to Ada.
"We can't drink too much. Just a couple of drinks and then we're done, because I have to work tomorrow."
She looked at me like I was some kind of grandma.
"Girl? You are 26, not fifty something. Enjoy your youth! God!"
She grinned. I laughed. She was so cute. I was so happy I had her. Because I would be fucking asocial if she wasn't there.
⸻
We walked to my car and gave the keys to the valet. He told us we looked beautiful, and it made me happy. I think Ada was right. I was ready for that dress.
Purple suits me. I mean, it looks kind of black at midnight anyway. Dark purple? Violet? Plum purple? I don't know. Darker than Justin Bieber purple, I would say.
⸻
We sat at our table and started chatting while scanning the room. It was a nice place with young adults like us. New. Everyone was ready to explore and consume the place.
We thought we would eat pasta, but I didn't want to talk about my gluten intolerance. So I chose a salad with fresh herb dressing.
Whenever we go out, Ada eats whatever she wants and is still fine. I have to stick with salad. Thanks to my genes. I'm not saying I always do that, but today was the first time I felt ready. I wanted to be peaceful with my body.
⸻
Later, we moved to the bar and started talking with strangers like we always do. I realized I missed my friendly side. It was fun to laugh at people's jokes without knowing anything about their lives.
Some girl with curly hair and pink highlights — I wasn't sure if that was the exact color, but whatever — was telling us how her boyfriend tried to surprise her by buying a gift she would hate.
She said she hated green. Like, really hated it.
And her boyfriend decided that the best surprise gift was a green bedding set.
Like… wow, bro. Why would you buy your girlfriend a bedding set? Of all things?
Ah, men. So stupid. So… yuck.
Ada and I looked at each other and burst out laughing.
"That's why I don't trust men with home decor decisions," Ada said.
"I mean," I added, "unless they already live alone and know what they're doing."
We kept chatting and laughing with strangers, and for a moment, I felt like my old self was coming back. The version of me who wasn't so quiet, who didn't spend so much time inside her own head.
Then I smelled something.
"Oh, no," I whispered.
Ada looked at me.
I knew that scent.
His scent.
Maybe it was just coincidence, I thought, and continued my night anxiously.
No. I cannot bear seeing him.
Thank God, until the end of the night, I didn't see him.
Until I did.
My first night out in a long time ended successfully.
I thought it was.
Because I fucking saw him.
He called my name.
"Hey, how have you been?"
How have I been? How the fuck have I been?
After he cheated on me on our anniversary — at the time we were supposed to meet at his house — and I saw him with that redhead bitch from his office, making out on the kitchen table we chose together because his wasn't good enough for longer, cute dinner dates?
Ah. I am perfectly perfect, of course, you idiot.
But I didn't say that. I just smiled. The kind of smile that doesn't reach your eyes.
"I'm good. Really good," I said.
He looked like he didn't believe me.
And then I asked how he had been. Because sometimes being strong just means pretending you don't care enough to fight anymore.
⸻
We ran out of the place because I was ready to lose my shit, and Ada felt it. She said,
"Let's go. We have to catch the after party at Tom's house."
Who the fuck is Tom? I thought. Then I got it. She was helping me.
We rushed outside, my breath quickening and my heart pounding in my chest.
I told myself I was fine. I just needed air. Or distance. Or both.
I wanted to walk or run or flee, whatever you say. But then I remembered my car was with the valet.
So we decided to go to my car. Because real life was waiting in the morning.
I had school. She had the hospital.
No after party. Just responsibilities.
She drove me home because I wasn't in a position to drive.
I watched city lights pass by the window, thinking about how some nights change everything — even if nothing really happens.
When we arrived at my place, she called a taxi to pick her up. We waited outside, not speaking, until the taxi arrived. I hugged her tightly, and she knew I was happy because at least I had her as my best friend.
I went inside, locked the door, and tried to suppress any thoughts of him.
At least not tonight.