I walk into the aura of loud music, glasses clanging, and the obvious sound of loud, slurred drunk voices. As I see my friends across the bar, I start walking and snort a laugh as I narrowly duck past a couple sloppily making out to my right. I shake my head as I am reminded of college a few years back, and then grin as I see my best friend, Aaron. He is dancing along to one of the latest pop hits, one hand in the air and the other grasped around a beer bottle. His red flannel tied around his waist dangles at his knees, and his ridiculous "swag pants" as his gay friends call them are tucked into his boots. Aaron is a sucker for fashion, and he attempts to coach me on all the latest trends, but it just goes in one ear and out the other. He's chatting up the guy next to him, obviously flirting by the way he keeps adjusting his black band t-shirt. Mid-sentence, he sees me and shouts,
"Hey man! I thought you weren't going to make it."
It's true, I had texted him earlier that I wasn't going to come. Aaron likes to spend his Friday nights partying at all the hottest bars in Chicago, chatting up this guy and the next. And don't get me wrong, that can be fun and all. But when you have spent the last hundred Friday nights getting drunk at clubs until 2:00 am, it can get a little old.
I walk over and give him a smile.
"Nah, I thought I would come anyways. I couldn't bear leaving you to club on your own could I?" I have to yell it, even though I am only several feet away.
He shakes his head and laughs, then introduces me to his new fella. The rest of our group is scattered around the club, chatting to new people and taking sips from their drinks. Its been almost 2 years since I moved to Chicago after school, but I still don't have that many friends except for Aaron which doesn't really count because I've known him since we were toddlers. I'm not the most social person in the world, so most of the people in our "group" are just Aaron's buddies. But I don't mind. I'm just not one of those guys who needs a ton of friends.
When I can tell that Aaron has hinted continuously for me to bug off so he can have this guy to himself, I politely duck out of the conversation saying I'm going to get a beer. As I walk away I give Aaron a wink. He glares at me but I can totally see his smile breaking through as he turns back around.
I walk over to the bar and watch Aaron and his ridiculous flirting, stifling a laugh. I ask the bartender for a beer and he nods at me. As I wait, I survey the rest of the bar. Its just around midnight, so the thirty-somethings are just leaving and college boys are just getting the party started.
I turn back around to the bartender as he starts to hand me my drink. The previous song has just stopped playing and there is a musical silence of chatter in the club. Just as I grab the bottle, I hear it. The song.
The world goes into slow motion, and everything becomes a mess of blur. Too much grief... too much.... I am drowning, deeper and deeper and deeper. I know what comes next. I know that slow beat all too well. That sound of that sweet soft violin, that unmistakeable breath...
Only seconds has gone by but it feels like hours. The bartender asks me if I'm okay but his voice is muffled. I can't feel anything or even begin to reply.
Before I know it Aaron has his hand gripped around my arm and is forcibly dragging me to the door. I can't see anything... I hardly register moving at all. We get out onto the street, Aaron's face masked into a hard line. I still can hear the music... Her voice is about to start... I can almost hear it...
I must have tripped because the next thing I know I am on my hands and knees gasping for air. Aaron pulls me up so that I am on two feet again and continues to pull me down the next street. I want to run and get as far away from that sounds as possible, but my legs won't move more than a slow trudge. Finally, Aaron stops pulling me. We are several blocks away, where the music is no longer able to be heard. I collapse onto the dirty cement of the Chicago street, continuing to gasp for air. Aaron stands next to me, arms folded at his chest, face rigid, knowing from experience that he can't do anything to help me.
Sweat pours down my face and I am using all the brain power I have to not think about what just happened. People pass us, staring down at me. I am shaking all over. I fear that I am going to pass out because I am breathing so fast.
Finally my brain can't suppress it any longer. I break down inside, and her face appears for a flash second in my head. That beautiful soft, silky long brown hair. Those unmistakable rosy, freckled cheeckbones. And those eyes, those glimmering chocolate brown eyes. For only a moment my breathing has stopped as I grasp the picture in my head. Then she is gone, and I am left with nothing. At some point I turn over and I lie with my back to the cold hard cement. My head rests down on the dirty concrete and I press it down into the ground squeezing my eyes shut from the mental and physical pain. I am starting to get a headache, and the pain grows.
I see the boy Aaron was talking to walk up to us. He says something to him looking hurt, and then concerned as he sees me. Aaron says something back, and I pick up the phrase "He's fine" within the sentence. They chat for a little bit but my brain is unable to understand any of the words.
I attempt to stand up, but the world starts to spin. Aaron comes over me and tells me to stay still, then he stands back up again to talk to the boy. Eventually, the boy leaves and Aaron goes to sit on the sidewalk next to me.
A while later, I muster the energy to sit up. I wrap my arms around my knees, curling into a ball. Without looking at me, Aaron asks if I want to go home. I tell him no. So we just sit there, late into the night, Aaron thinking about God knows what. And me. Thinking about anything but her.
