If Only

Part 2: Losing

     Though it was still pretty early for a high school party, by the time we got there it was already in full swing.

     The lights were bright, flashing erratically and painting the walls and party-goers in fluorescent, vibrant colours.  The music was loud enough that I could feel it thumping through my body, unifying all our heartbeats.  The overall atmosphere was lively and euphoric and soon enough, I found myself jumping and cheering and downing cup after red solo cup of whatever was in those plastic punch bowls.

     I lost track of time then.  Hours must have passed though, because less and less seniors were crowding the makeshift dance floor and the couches were becoming increasingly packed with bodies that were too hyped up to leave yet too exhausted to move an inch.

     By the time I was done dancing and slurring the lyrics to a song I only half-knew, three quarters of my friends had gone and I knew it was time to leave.

     Emma was sitting alone on the edge of the divan, looking frazzled and uneasy.  I grinned and plopped down next to her.  "What's wrong, babe?"

     She turned to look at me then, and I can still recall the panic flaring in her eyes as she took in my drunken state.  She managed a shaky, "Stella j-just left.  And D-Darryl.  And Cameron, too."

     I pressed my eyebrows together as I tried to process what she said.  After a moment, I was still confused as to why she was so worked up.  "So?  It's late.  Everybody should be heading... home.  In fact, I'm going to drive us... you back.  Right now."  I tried a reassuring grin to assuage my horrified girlfriend, but to no avail.

     "Jason! Don't you get it?"  She cried, jumping up from her seat on the sofa to face me.  "They were all drunk; just like you are now!"  She began to pace, her breathing becoming shallower with each step.  My head was pounding; she became a blur of floral patterns and brown hair swirling in front of me.  I groaned and shook my head to clear my vision.

     "I'm not... that drunk.  I'm not drunk at all, actually.  I'm fine.  Come on, I'm sure Stella and the others are all right."  I forced myself to enunciate clearly even though the amount of effort it was taking to arrange my words into coherent phrases was excruciating.

     She grabbed my hands then.  They were dainty and cool on mine.  "Please," she begged, "let's take a taxi home.  Or stay the night.  Or something.  I don't want to have to worry about even more people — especially not you, Jason."

     It is this moment that I remember the best.  Because in this moment, the fatally short moment that I was so annoyed that she would accuse me of being unable to do such a simple task as to drive myself home, I made the decision that would impact the course of my life forever.

     "I want to go home, Em.  Good night." And with that, I yanked my hands away from hers and turned my back on my girlfriend and the life I could have had with her.