Groundhogs

Chapter 6: Pursuit

Neon lights poured over my body and I felt Ottalina gripping my hand tighter. Around us, small clusters of dancers shifted against one another, hugging loosely and draping themselves like curtains against stained glass windowpanes. Curtains and stained glass; those colliding and opposite forces melted together in passion, and watching them I grew warm inside. Women kissed men and men kissed women, women kissed women and men kissed men, and more kissed more and they all kissed, freely and without remorse, they all kissed and danced. On stage, a loosely dressed man sang quaintly in the microphone. The microphone stand danced within his arms as he confessed.

They say the world
has to plenty to taste.
How could I do that
with this frown on my face?
They told me to put a smile on my face.
I can't get the frown outta' the way!

How can I be happy
when I wake up sad?
I know it's bad to say
but I can't wait for the day
I'm not
in the way!

I can't wait for the day
I never wake up again.
How sweet it must be to be
asleep
forever,
forever!

No I can't be
happy!
No, I can't be
happy!
Today!

Ottalina's eyes widened at the sight of that fleeting version of nightly love, in envy and in awe. With that upbeat and lively song riddled with lonely and elegiac lyrics behind her, her body began jiving and shaking in unison to those around her. My hand slipped from hers and I watched closely as she assimilated into the crowd. One dancer swung closer to her and another too from behind until the three became one. Ottalina pulled a dancer closer, possibly seeking to feel them fully and closed her eyes. Her smile appeared as she threw her arms toward the ceiling. The other dancer grabbed her hoodie from the bottom and Ottalina twisted and turned as the dancer removed the hoodie. In her oversized shirt and shorts, she laughed and pointed at the singer, dancing freely.

I slipped through the masses with my hand free from hers, until I found an unoccupied spot on the floor. Among the commotion, Ottalina turned to me.

"Drinks," she mouthed.
"Got it."

At the bar that remained loudly hidden behind the backs of the unmatched and the break-takers, I conquered a corner. The bartender handed me two beers and two shots of tequila. My wallet grew lighter and I thought about how to explain to Ottalina that we'd have to obtain more funds for our trip soon. I had read somewhere that kids with trauma were notoriously terrible with managing money but I imagined it was another excuse I gratefully to accepted for myself. Whenever I imagined my younger years, young enough where my memory became blank space, only moments remained. I remembered moments with neighborhood girls who I spent summers with walking and looking for anything to do. I remembered the end of a summer I remained indoors for and the uncomfortable feeling of speaking to my friends again. I especially remembered moments when I felt heavier than I'm accustomed to. I wished for the erasure of broken doors and scattered pills, the erasure of hospital gowns and cold floors.

I had grown used to finding myself use those moments I felt the heaviest as reasons for my shortcomings today. Sometimes I thought it was fair of me to think so and other times I felt the weight of guilt for thinking in such a way. Either way, I hadn't grown beyond those moments, and standing at the bar peering at the last few bills in my wallet frightened me. I thought that unfamiliar and terrifyingly aquatinted weight would return again.

Ottalina broke away from the dance floor and walked toward me. Her arms were outstretched for the drinks the bartender began to arrive with until a handsome man cut in front of her path.

"Can I just say, you're the most beautiful woman I've seen tonight," the man said.
"You've seen every woman in this place already?" she responded.
"Yes. This line didn't work on any of them."
"Funny."
"Can I buy you a drink?"

Ottalina smiled at me and walked to the other end of the bar with the man. I watched from the side of my eye as they interlocked arms and threw the shot into the back of their throats. The man placed his hand gently on her waist and Ottalina inched closer to him with her back turned. That sort of feeling was familiar. Drunken, slippery and fading love, I sometimes missed it's embrace. I wondered if Ottalina was familiar too, and if she knew of the high and the crash. Admittedly, I was jealous. I grew envious of Ottalina, and pined for another escaping drunken love she was in the midst of. It reminded me of the nights I convinced myself if Jenn just saw me with someone else, she'd grow to know how she felt for me. And whenever I thought back to that rationale, I pissed myself all over again. Oh, how intuitive and inventing that strategy sounded. But you could never tell the hopeless their hope was in vain, no. The hopeless stuck hoping are riddled with delusions; proclaimed romantics too, were the most poisoned of all.

Ottalina and the man drifted back into the masses as the stage dimmed and the singer began another song.

I can love you
more than you can dream
Who can love me
beyond my dreams?
It's not easy
and I want to believe
That there's someone out there
for me

I'm just searching
For someone to love
I'm just searching
For someone to love

I don't think I'm asking for much
I don't think I cry enough
about wanting to fall in love

The song ended abruptly. The crowd at the stage stopped dancing, and the scattered conversations of the club scored the scene. I drank the two shots I bought, and double fisted the remaining two beers. As I sipped one, my eyes scanned my surroundings. A woman nearby, on the outskirts of the dance floor, smiled my direction. I walked over carefully with my head slipping toward the sticky floor and back up to her.

"Two beers?" she asked.
"Uh, yeah. I'm not usually drinking this much. Well. At least not in public. Okay. That probably—"
"Yeah," she giggled.
"I'm Free, hello. I guess I should've started with that?"
"To be fair, I asked a question first."
"That is true. Well, according to the bar code I think I'm entitled to one question in return?"
"Oh, of course. I think that's a new line just added at the last council meeting, right?"
"Yeah, wait. Were you not there? I hope you paid your dues this month."
"Go on with it."
"Would you like to dance?"
"Sure."

The woman lead me closer to the masses by the hand. The singer started to sing another melancholic song disguised among rhythmic sounds that vitalized the restless crowd. She placed my hands on her waist, and hers on my shoulders.

"I'm not sure this is a the song for dancing this slow," I said.
"Agree to disagree."
"You never told me your name."
"It doesn't really matter does it?"

She dropped her hands and wrapped them around my waist. Her chin fell atop my shoulder and she suddenly fell silent. I returned her gesture and said nothing. I couldn't make out the singer's newest lyrics but I was sure they were more of the same. I felt her mouth trembling and her jaw clinching tightly. Across the dance floor, I saw Ottalina dancing too. Her head was resting on the man's shoulder, and our eyes met. Since I met her, I thought I saw some sadness in her eyes. There were times when I thought all I could see were the fucked up parts of people. Some part of me wanted everyone around me to be as tormented as me, and I wanted them to admit it, like I couldn't. And when they revealed to me their troubles and their desires and their wishes and their prayers that have gone unanswered, I wished for the opposite. And when they reassured me that they had no complaints and they were truly and utterly content, I couldn't believe them.

But staring into Ottalina's eyes I saw more than what I wanted her to admit. Her eyes were worn, like they were just about to give out. She was watching me, waiting for me to confess, begging for an ally.

The lights of the club struck on, and the crowds wandered for the door and to the bar. The woman with me raised her head, wiped her eyes and disappeared. The man with Ottalina held onto her as she pushed away and walked toward the exit. Again, the two of us walked in silence to the sand and sat in front of the crashing waves.

"Free."
"Yeah."
"Is it worth it?"
"It's all we want, right?"
"Yeah."
"It's worth it."

A flash of light slid across our view and sand kicked up. Ottalina and I stood accompanied by a man floating above the waves.