Young Writers Society

[b]

There’s a song that goes, “One way or another I’m gonna find ya, I’m gonna get ya, get ya, get ya, get ya…” After Macon and I broke up, this song seemed to play on my mp3 player a lot. Then again, I did have the song on repeat. There was something about the melody of that song accompanied with its words that proved so motivating, encouraging really. I believed I really could get him back into my life.

I’m the one who broke us up. According to Macon, I’m the one who “ruined” us. What a word to use for a failed relationship. RUINED. However, this is true. It was entirely my fault, I confess. Macon and I were unofficially together. We weren’t sure if we were dating. We weren’t boyfriend and girlfriend yet, seeing other people was not an option for either of us. Yes, that kind of relationship.

I first met him at Howard Jones Hospital. I arrived there early that afternoon dreading the fact that I would soon be prodded by sharp needles, for the first time nonetheless. My hands felt clammy as I opened the doors, soon to face my fear of sharp needles. I crossed my fingers as I walked through the threshold. That’s when I saw him.

As I approached his desk in the lobby, I could tell my eyes were dilating. He stood just a several inches less than six feet tall. His curly brown hair peeked from under his baseball cap with the Trojan mascot of the local university stitched on the front. He had a boyish face and beautiful clear water blue eyes that sought shelter under his thick eyebrows. By the faint lines sweeping from the corners of them, I guessed him at 23 or 24 which would make him about a year or two older than me. I’d never known anyone in my life to have a button nose. He definitely had one, a slightly slender nose your fingers could walk up with ease. His lips were lightly chapped, but given that it was winter, my eyes saw no flaw in that. In fact, my eyes saw no flaws at all as I finished the inventory that was his body. He looked like he worked out. Three times a week was my guess. My eyes made it as far as his midsection as I imagined what his bottom half looked like, behind the counter, clothed of course. My attention diverted to the sign on his desk I had been looking for. VOLUNTEER CHECK IN. Turns out he was just the guy I needed to see.

His professionalism as the front desk receptionist alone was impressive. I almost felt a sense of chivalry to his tone.

“May I help you?” I looked at his name tag. Macon. It was so close to my name, Macan; I couldn’t help but to feel a tad giddy.

“Yes, Macon, I’m supposed to be starting my volunteer work today.”

He looked at a chart on his desk.

“May I have your name?” He replied.

“Macan—“

He looked up at me sharply with those beautiful eyes of his, cutting me off with a mystified glance.

“Macan Pierce”, I finished. I smiled slightly. His eyes took notice and I noticed a smile starting in the corner of his mouth, interrupted by his dialogue.

“Macan. Well Macan, it shows here you’ve been screened so you can head down to the blood drive department today. Will this be your first time giving blood?”

“No!” I shouted, alarming everyone on the first floor. Realizing my sudden outburst I calmed down. “I mean yes, but, no, I can’t give blood. I freak out at the sight of needles alone--and the pain!” My volume soared again and I ended on a persuasive note, delivering the most puppy-dog expression I could present.

“Isn’t there something else I can do?” I bargained, backing out of what I had originally signed up for. “I can sweep like you wouldn’t believe.” My alternative was so pathetic but he must’ve thought otherwise. He chuckled lightly.

“I believe you. I‘ll tell you what; I’m going on my break in about 10 minutes. I’ve got you checked in. Why don’t you head down the hall to the blood drive and after I finish up here I’ll come down there and...” He smiled at me for the first time as he continued, “ I’ll help you through it.”

“Macon.” That was all I could muster. I hoped it came out in a thankful tone. Honestly, it was more of a ‘thank-you-for-coming-into-my-life’ kind of tone.

As I sat up on the cot, I clenched my fists as the nurse prepared to suck the life out of me, checking my blood pressure and pulse. I unclenched my fists and crossed my fingers as hard as I could. When she wrapped the tourniquet around my arm I completely lost it. I was squirmy, nervous and I began sweating. The nurse thumped the syringe and my heart beat harder and faster with each strike. She glided her finger along a vein and I closed my eyes disappointed that Macon has broken his promise.

I tried to tell myself that it would over soon. The nurse prompted me that she would be inserting the needle into my vein which would sting. Sting. What a horrible word to use in front of a donor. Try uncomfortable or even tingle. But no. They go for words like sting, hurt, and burn.

“Okay, here it comes,” she said shedding years off my life.

“Nurse?” I heard a distant voice approaching us as I peeked at my forearm being wiped with a cool antiseptic cloth. Oh, please let it be my nurse being summoned, I thought.

“Nurse?” The voice sounded relatively familiar as the nurse stood back; delaying the process and allowing me time to exhale.

“This patient hasn’t consumed any refreshments. Do you mind if I steal her away for a bit?”

I had the courage to take my eye off of the nurse. I turned my head and was instantly composed as Macon came to my rescue. I kept my eye on him, smiling as the nurse untied the tourniquet from my arm.

As we walked down the tunneled hallway, I noticed that his fingers were long and slender and I thought about sneakily interlocking my fingers with his but my conscious decided that I should instead sneakily dangle my arms slightly so that our hands would kiss every now and then.

I waited until we reached the front desk to tell him I had already eaten a decent meal before arriving.

“That thought ran through my mind, actually. But when I came in that room and saw you so uncomfortable with your eyes closed, I knew you weren’t ready to donate. I figured you needed a decoy. I’ve seen tons of first timers in here and I must say, you win the award for keeping composure.” We both laughed simultaneously.

“So, what? You just thought it’d be all too funny to stand back and watch as I was tormented by my own fear?” I leaned against him, pushing him slightly.

“I thought you had it all under control. You were crossing your fingers as if you’d magically escape from that room” he joked.

“Well, it’s for good luck” I explained.

“Well it worked.”

Macon allowed me to look in his eyes and I exchanged the favor.

“I’m Macon,” he said.

The giddiness returned threefold.

“Macan.” I said. Our gaze intensified.

Macon walked me back to donate blood. This time he stayed and held my hand. As the nurse repeated the process, I remained calm, swimming in the sea of Macon’s eyes. I squeezed his hand, jokingly, as if I was in pain. Macon lips formed words I tried to decipher. I raised my eyebrows in hopes that he would say it again.

“You’re awesome,” he whispered. My grasp tightened as I felt a tingling sensation in my arm. What was actually the needle making contact with my vein I mistook for a chemical explosion caused by two people, known as a mutual crush. I am sure Macon felt it too. The nurse assured me this feeling would last for a few seconds. But I felt this weird sensation way past the very last drop.

He was soothingly sweet in little ways like that and although giving blood was an embarrassing moment for me, Macon kept me coming back to give more.

[Macon IS VISITING HIS FRIEND WITH CANCER IN THE HOSPITAL] Macon wasn’t there the second time I gave blood. I dallied around hoping I would have his comforting presence to make the experience less nervewrecking. A different nurse was working today so I took advantage of the situation, telling her I hadn’t eaten yet. Seeing that it was important for donors to drink and eat a healthy snack before donating I was off the hook for a while. The more visits I made the more Macon smiled at me. After a couple weeks, he asked that I stay to keep him company until he finished work. He let me come around his desk and I sat with him while he worked. It became routine to sit with him when I came to the hospital, whether I was there volunteering or not.

We would play random games that helped us learn about the other. [WONT YOU GET IN TROUBLE? Macon: HECK NO, I DO WHAT I WANT HERE] We’d sit on the floor behind his desk in our own little world.

“S.” Macon started.

I thought long and hard for my favorite food that began with S.

“Oh, salmon!”

“Salmon?” He said pronouncing the L.

“Yes, salmon,” I said.

Macon fell back with laughter.

“What’s wrong with Salmon? Salmon is good.”

Macon’s amusement grew.

“It’s salmon,” he corrected omitting the L from its pronunciation.

“No it’s not. It’s salmon,” I said placing the L back in the word.

Macon got up from the floor stealing the attention of a stranger walking by.

“Excuse me, sir. Yes you. Would you help me for a second?”

I stood up, fully aware of what he was trying to prove.

“Okay, my lady friend here is having trouble pronouncing a certain word.”

The man looked so confused. Macon grabbed a paper and pen and scribbled SALMON on it. Holding it up in front of him he pointed across the word.

“What’s this read?” Macon shot me a smirk before looking back for the man’s reply.

“Sammon” My ears heard wrong.

“Thank you!” Macon balled up the paper tossing it in the trash.

“No it’s Salmon!” The man walked away uninterested in where this conversation was leading.

“Macan, poor Macan. Who taught you such a word? 99 percent of this hospital will tell you the L is not pronounced.” Macan chuckled, shaking his head.

“Which means one percent will agree with me.” I argued desperately.

Macon threw his head back highly entertained.

“Sorry, but you’re not going to win this debate with one percent.”

I sat back down ready to continue. We transitioned into a new game, as the smiles and stares started back upon revealing new tidbits of information.

“Okay, my turn.”

“Wait.” Macon interrupted the flow of idea of new games circulating in my head.

“What about your favorite flower?”

I couldn’t just tell him. I had to show him. I stood up and sat at the computer. Macan, stood up as his warm natural scent hovered over me.

I pulled up the internet searching for Brigadoon, one of the top rarest flowers in the world. Macon oohed and ahhed at the various pictures of the hybrid tea rose.

“Some have really strong scents, some don’t” I read one of the captions aloud.

“Brigadoon,” Macon started. “Cool name.”

“Do you have a favorite flower?” Macon and I sat back down on the floor.

“So many I can’t choose!” Macon joked.

“Favorite song” I suggested randomly.

“You know, our favorites say a lot about ourselves.”

“Oh do they? So what does your favorite song say about you?”

“Well, it says lots of things. My life is nothing but contradicts. A good day is a bad day. So, bad day are welcomed. My smiles are frowns trying to be happy. I take life one day at a time and waste every minute of my life. I work fulltime spending time and money, saving neither. When the up meets the down, I’m content because I know what I have to lose. You understand?”

“I do. Oxymorons. Life itself is an oxymoron, I think. We are guaranteed nothing from life but an end. The one thing we don’t want from life is the one thing we’re promised.” I could feel myself driving the conversation into another topic of discussion, which was interrupted by a nurse bending over the desk, down at us, demanding a copy of the day’s donors.

We had both lost track of time. We stood up as we realized the hospital was not as full as it was. Most of the volunteers and nurses had gone home. When I realized the blood drive was over a half an hour ago, I also realized that I had 5 minutes to get my class which was a 10 minute drive away; and that was just to the nearest parking lot. It would take another 5-7 minutes to walk to the Social Science building.

“Can I offer you a ride, Macan?”

“Yes, thank you, Macon.”

After Macon clocked out I followed him outside to his truck. I had come up with several ideas on what his favorite song could be on the ride to class. My concentration was repeatedly broken by the catchy words on the radio. Hmm, I thought. Is it…it must be for real…It must be the Joker…or it could be…it’s not my time…the music was too distracting. I gave up guessing.

“Trying to guess my favorite song aren’t you?” Macon patted my thigh as we pulled up to the social science building.

“I’ll guess it.” I promised as I jumped out the truck.

“When you do, let me know.”

I waved my new found prince goodbye. I ran to my class like a giddy schoolgirl, because that’s what I was. A calm mesmerized me as I sat in class. A calm giddiness that I knew would not subside for a long time. I took out my textbooks as I thought to myself, “He called me lady friend.”

I soon met Macon’s best friend, Lucy. Granted she was a girl, but she definitely seemed like a guy’s girl. She wore a baseball cap over her long tresses, with bangs that hid her almond eyes. I assumed she was not a girly girl like myself, her face lacked foundation and mascara. The only trace of makeup I found was tinted lip gloss, albeit a light application.

Although she came off as a cool girl, who was someone Macon got along with really well, our friendship never went past the “hi, how’s it going” stage. I decided upon meeting her I wouldn’t be the girl demanding juicy secrets or girlfriend history from her. I didn’t want to take any chances scaring off any of Macon’s friends.

Macon always wanted to meet my friends at college; the ones who were so eager to meet him anyway, like Mandy. Mandy, my closest friend who always demanded a daily update, coined Macon and I as the most perfect pair she’d known. Macon and I were perfect for each other and often joked about how similar our names are. Sounding alike but spelled differently, if we were married and someone asked for a Macon Crawford, we’d have to ask, Mr. or Mrs.?

“So when are we all gonna meet this sweetheart of yours?”

“I want to be able to introduce us as boyfriend and girlfriend, which we’re not yet. I’m hoping within the next couple of weeks.” Mandy couldn’t wait to meet him.

Henry was another friend I wanted to introduce to Macon. Drunk Henry, we called him. His best friend was Johnny Walker. I told Henry all about Macon while he listened in his drunken stupor.

“He asked me what my favorite flower was, he held my hand, and he calls me his lady friend.” I went on and on.

“Tulip. Is that your favorite?

“What? No way. It’s Brigadoon.” I let out a long sigh before continuing. “He wanted to know all about me, Henry. What do you think?”

“I think,” Henry took a long pause. “You should obviously celebrate. To Bacon Macan!” He toasted.

“And Macon!” I added.

“Sure.”

“To Me and Macon.”

******

September became my favorite month just because of him. We flirted a lot, made out a lot. We did a lot of everything really. October was just as fun. For Halloween I kept Macon company at his job as we handed out healthy sugarless snacks to the ghosts, goblins and witches making their way to Howard Jones, or Hojos, as Macon coined it.

The first snowfall that year came near the end of November. Macon was only too excited to take me ice skating. I, only the hand, was somewhat terrified.

I stepped onto the ice cautiously. Macon had already done circles around rink, as he had been on skates since he learned to played hockey at age 8. He had a few years on me, of course.

“You can do it, Macan,” he encouraged me, “Just hold my hand and you will do just fine.”

I placed my hand in his and he glided backwards.

I screamed and clutched his hand as hard as I could.

“You’re doing good, just glide one foot at a time.”

I heard little kids laughing at me as they skated figure eights around me.

After stumbling around for a while on my skates I began to get the basics of ice skating. Macon’s lack of impatience made it that much easier. We skated the outskirts of the rink hand in hand like the other couples there. We did about four laps when midway past the fifth, Macon faced me skating backwards.

‘Macon, don’t. I’ll fall over on you.”

“Okay then, let’s switch!”

My heart jumped up in my throat as Macon and I spun around.

“Open your eyes, Macan!”

“No. I’ll fall.”

“Trust me, you won’t.”

I opened my eyes to Macon’s assuring face. As he let one hand go and pulled me to his side.

I couldn’t get enough of Macan. And I was sure he couldn’t get enough of me.

“What would you like to do now?” he inquired as we returned our skates to the skate shed.

“Let’s so something I can do well.”

“Fair enough, what’ve you got in mind?”

Macon and I bowled for hours at the university’s bowling alley. At the end of our third game we tallied up our score.

“I’ve got 280. Ahh. Close but no cigar.” I boasted.

Macon recalculated his score several times.

“How’d ya do?” I asked trying to peek through his fingers covering his score sheet. I snatched the paper from his hands and ran behind the sitting station. He jumped over retrieving it but not before I made fun of his score of 110.

‘Go ahead,” he sighed. “Laugh it up.”

“He took me in his arms and kissed my cheek.”

“Let’s get out of here and do something we’re both good at.”

I loved when he said things like that. I hated when he said things like ‘Oh, sorry Macon I’ll just be gone for the weekend’ or ‘Not tonight, the game is on tonight’. It was a good thing when we spent time apart. The moment we saw each other days later, we spent all the I-miss-you’s saved up and cashed them all out for a heavy make out session.

December had finally come around. I figured at this time, seeing as it was three months later, I should bring up the R word. Macon loved how things were between us and didn’t feel we needed the GF/BF titles. I grew confused by this but trusted it nonetheless.

Being that three months had passed, there was a sexual tension that had begun to grow after 2 and a half weeks of knowing Macon, not that it wasn’t there present upon our initial meeting. After knowing him this long, I was wondering if he found me, how you say, sexually appetizing. His masculine hands would soft whenever he’d touch me sending chills up my spine and I’d place my hand on his arms sending them right back to him.

I just asked him plainly. “Should we have sex?” Instantly blushing Macon only smiled. That would be a yes. Before indulging in the vision of Macon and I being one with each other I went through my mind, counting the few men I had been intimate with. Only five. So that would make Macon six. Six, I thought. Hmm, this cannot be.

There is something you should know about me. I am a strong believer of three things: fate, love and superstition. I believe everything happens for a reason and love is a power we all possess and I NEVER walk over lines on the sidewalk and cross my fingers for good luck. I thought, Macon is such a special person, he can’t be number six. He must be number seven. He’s got to be lucky number seven. That’s when I ruined everything.

For days I was debating whether or not I should just do it, trying to give in to the possibility that six was just a number and nothing more, but then I pondered about the bad luck that would follow that I just did not want to endure. I should just not do it, I thought. But, I so wanted to. I called Drunk Henry. I had to. He said he’d be over as soon as he dropped his best fiend Lulu off at the airport.

Henry was a good friend of mine I could blab to about anything; though absorbing all this information in his drunken stupor meant that he didn’t remember it the next day, which benefited him I guess. Usually he’d listen for a few seconds like most guys then his mind would overpower the complaints and inquiries as he thought about baseball scores and the girl he slept with last night but this time I needed him to listen. I needed a solution.

“Henry. I don’t know what to do. I mean we’re not dating-dating but I really like him, I thing he’s the real deal and he wants to have sex with me and—“

“ Do you want to have sex with him?”

“Yes!”

“So have the sex then.”

“Henry, you don’t understand. He’ll be 6! Six!”

Henry’s mind was about to interfere.

“Six!” I repeated regaining his attention. I gasped, shocking myself with the repetitive words I shouted. I inhaled heavily, abruptly leaving my dorm room. I shut the door behind me and I ran all the way downstairs to the outside, then back up the stairs to my room, exhaling the bad luck bomb out of my system.

“Oh,” Henry realized. “Gotcha.”

Hastily, I swallowed a few gulps of air.

“What. Do. I do?”

“So you want this guy to be lucky seven, huh?”

“Yes.”

“So get a sixth. Solves your problem.”

“Are you crazy, why would I do that. Veto.”

“Well, I don’t know what else to tell you. If you got someone to have meaningless sex with you then that would solve your problem.”

“ That is so—“ I was going to finish with the word stupid but Drunk Henry had a point as crazy as it seemed.

“It’s the only option you got. Just call up an ex you slept with.”

“I can’t do that!”

“Wellwhynot” Henry began to slur his words.

“That wouldn’t work. I’ve slept with five guys. If I called one of them up to sleep with me, I would still be at FIVE guys!”

Henry and I stood in silence for what seemed like forever. I was baffled. Sleeping with Macon would remain a fantasy in my mind forever. I started thinking about joining a convent and how much it would cost to buy a chastity belt online.

“Me.” He started.

“You?”

“Wha abah me?”

“Henry! You said ‘me’”

“Oh yeah” Drunk Henry was apparently wasted. “Ah be your,” he drew the number six in the air.

I laughed at his preposterous idea.

“You?”

“Yeah, I mean, I’valrehdy seenu naked so there woh be a probem—“

‘What? When?”

“Rememerlassummer I left my sunglasses innuh ladies locker room when I was--” I remembered. Henry snuck in the ladies locker room one time to get down and dirty with one of the girls on my soccer team right before our game. She scored twice that day.

I had heard there was a cute Irish guy who got into the ladies room. I got dressed as fast as I could before he could see me naked. I was pulling up my shorts when I heard footsteps. I turned around half naked, letting out a scream when I noticed Henry in the women’s locker room.

“The look on your face when you saw me--” Henry’s laughter was cut short by my lack of response. I was not amused.

“So whatdya say, Macan?” I grew concerned and slightly nervous. I really didn’t want to do it. I found myself undressing with Henry removing his clothes at 4 times my speed. “For Macon” I convinced myself. I got a bad feeling in my stomach. This was so not like me. It was too late. Just as realized what I had done, I pushed Henry off of me. Henry, completely hammered, fell off the bed and passed out on my floor.

The next morning, I wanted to talk about my night with Henry. I wanted to be sure that he wouldn’t tell anyone. Then again, he was pretty drunk last night. I was sure he forgot. Although, his slightly confused face as he dressed himself that morning implied otherwise.

Macon became number seven, but he later found out about what I had done through the Lucy-Lulu Triangle. I went through the equation in my mind. Lucy is Macan’s best friend. So, there’s Macon and there’s Lucy. Then there’s Henry and his friend Lulu. Apparently, Henry told Lulu about last night and Lulu told Macon. I had no idea they had the same friend in common. Lucy is Lulu. Lulu is Lucy. Though I didn’t bear to explain my reasoning behind it I knew that fate, love and superstition were no excuse. Infidelity was unacceptable and that’s what ruined us. RUINED.

He cut me out of his life instantly. I was heartbroken myself. I couldn’t believe how this just came crumbling down. I was bedridden for days. I stopped volunteering at the hospital. I remained in bed all day listening to my mp3 player. I had that song on repeat. I wanted him back so bad. I learned my lesson immediately. But he did not want me back. Life as I knew it had ended. I was demoted from possible GF to not even friends, but as “someone he thought he knew”.

Explaining the abrupt transition of my singleness to my friends was a difficult task to do in my mind and was only revealed to Mandy. Mandy lived in my dorm, a couple doors down. She became the nicest person to ever enter my life. She strongly believed that it was no one’s place to judge another. “You never know what a person goes through behind closed doors” was her empathetic basis. That was enough to confide in her about the tragedy I caused; well, that and her constantly nagging me about why I’d been depressed since December 7. It choked me up every time I thought about it but it was time to let her know.

“Macon and I are over.” What I only mildly whispered, Mandy shouted.

“You and Macon are over!?”

“Oh, Mandy, don’t scream it!” I couldn’t help but cry now. “Oh, Mandy, I’ve done the unthinkable, the most awful. I--”

I could only finish with a long exhaling cry. Mandy held me in that friendly way she always did. Usually, this would make me feel tons better, but nothing could lighten my depression, now worsened by this painstaking reminder of what I had done. Not even sweet Mandy. Although, hugging her did calm me down just enough to continue.

“I cheated on him, Mandy. I thought he was special and …I know it’s the dumbest thing in the world. How ridiculous of me. I wish I could take it back. I did it out of superstition…I lost him…I lost him, Mandy. Macon…”

I broke down in the midst of my rambling and this time Mandy’s embrace could not distract me from wailing.

I could tell Mandy really wanted to understand. I think on some level she did. At the same time, I could see on her face that she thought that what I did was an unforgivable thing.

When Christmas break came a couple days later I felt no need to go home to family. I stayed in the dorm and tried to convince myself that I could somehow survive without ever leaving my room. Knowing I would get calls from family and friends when they realized I hadn’t called to say I was coming home, I kept my phone on just in case of some out of the blue emergency. During those next couple of weeks most of the voicemails that I heard were from my sisters.

“Macan, its Laina. I read about you and Macon on your online journal…actually I signed in as you and read your private entry about Macon. Sorry and sorry. Call me.”

“Macan, it’s Lin, Laina told me about what happened with Macon. There are others out there. Keep your head up, call me back.”

The messages continued with repeats of family members suggesting that I come home and more of Lin telling me to ‘keep my head up’. Though it had just been almost two weeks, their advice would not be considered.

I made the perfect guy go away but I yearned for his return. One way or another I am gonna win him back. I grabbed a pen and a random piece of paper and that’s when my mind went to work. Just call him?...No, that won’t work. Write him a letter apolo—no. Pretend nothing happened?

I chuckled at my pathetic approach to winning back Macon’s heart and most importantly his trust. If there was just some way I could make him see it was a horrible once in a lifetime decision, an utterly stupid choice, he’d reconsider going back to unofficially dating or just friends-- without benefits even. I decided that sleep would be the best distraction for me at this point. I threw my stupid idea of a list in the trash. I’ll think of something tomorrow.

The next day was Christmas Eve and overnight I had collected a whole new batch of missed calls. Based on the messages, my sisters were more concerned about my RUINED relationship than my well being.

“Macan, its Laina. Somehow Mom found out about you and Macon, call me back”, “Macan, it’s your mother. Laina told me about Macon.”

Every time I heard Macan or Macon I only thought of Macon and I and what I RUINED. And did Laina tell the whole world about us? I listened on. “We’re on our way to visit you, sweetheart, just the girls. Its half past eight now, so be expecting us around 10am. See you soon.”

See me soon? I read 9:56am on my clock. I’m dreaming, I thought. I drug myself out of bed and rummaged through my laundry for the cleanest t-shirt I could find. The only t-shirt I found in site was the “I donated blood” tee I got from Macon when we were first going out. Kill me now was all I could say to myself. After changing into a half decent outfit I tried to tidy my hair. By the time I got my hair gathered up in my hands there was already a knock at my door. Screw it. My hair fell lifelessly back into its messy state.

I could hear Laina’s voice through the door. “I bet she looks like crap.” I opened the door and wiped any form of a hopeful smile on their faces into a gaping jaw drop. “Macan” they all said in unison as they made their way in not taking their eyes off me. Laina muttered, “Told ya.”

“I really just wanted to be alone”, I confessed.

“It’s been two weeks now, come on, Macan. You’ve started to grow mildew on yourself. I don’t get it, all this over a boy?” Lin never understood how some women pretty much shut themselves off from the world after a breakup.

“I don’t want to talk about him. And he wasn’t a boy. He was a 23 year old angel.”

“ And? You’re a 21 year old rarity. Someone else is gonna love you better.”

“ No, I don’t want anybody else. We’re not talking about him.”

I was well aware that Lin was only trying to make me feel better but I didn’t want any form of consolation. I just wanted to let the heartbreak takes its course. Mom tried her shot at getting a smile out of me by presenting me with food in a Teflon container and a few gifts from the family. I admit it was kind of nice to have family around, although Laina was of no help.

“It smells in here.” What a killjoy she could be sometimes. Her comment only made me want to crawl back into bed except Mom kept pushing the gifts at me. The first gift was from Dad. “Your dad said you could open this one now.” Wow. How did he know I wanted the exact same sweater he got me last Christmas? This one was going to the secondhand shop ASAP. The second was from Mom. I was just about to open it when mom stopped me. “Wait until tomorrow for the rest.” Great, I’m practicing patience again. I could barely wait the recommended 3 days Cosmo Magazine suggested to give Macon time to “cool off” before the after-breakup approach.

“I’ll try. Thanks, guys” I actually felt a tad bit distracted from my heartache. “Come home Macan. You know who’s been missing you since you started this semester? Ocean.”

I found Ocean three years ago on the coast of the Pacific Ocean during a family vacation in San Francisco. Of course I’m sure he belonged to someone else. But as the sun began the set I’d noticed the young Australian terrier roaming the beach still since we arrived at 4 that evening. When I went to search his collar for a name tag I found a note that read, “I need an owner” instead. After showing my parents, they suggested maybe staying around a bit to see if anybody claimed him. But as the moon replaced the sun and we were he only ones left it was safe to assume I would be this dog’s new owner. I named him Ocean as a reminder of where he was found, bonding with him the moment I knew he was mine.

I was sad that Ocean couldn’t come to live with me in my dorm. My mom promised me she’d care for him while I was away and whenever school let out for Summer or Winter vacation I rushed home to smother Ocean with all the love I could muster.

Okay, my mom pulled the trump card that would get me home no matter how much my depression forced me to my dorm room. A part of me was glad I peeled myself from bed, showered and went home for Christmas with my family and my Ocean.

*******

Being home that day did little for my aching heart. The Christmas lights strung throughout the living room was nauseating to me. Unfortunately whenever I closed my eyes to block out the bright flashes I saw Macon’s disappointing grimace and then I would only open my eyes to the reality that Macon would not be with me for the holiday.

He would’ve loved my family, although all it’d take was Laina to scare him away. Dad sat in front of the TV waiting for the daily three lotto numbers to be announced. Lin was in the kitchen helping mom with tomorrow’s Christmas meals while Laina lay on the couch by dad watching me watching her. What a loser.

“Don’t you have anything better to do” I hissed.

“Are you thinking of Macon?” I wasn’t sure if she was being smart or if she was really wondering. What was I thinking? It’s Laina; of course she was being smart.

“I wasn’t,” I lied. I am now though.” I finished sarcastically.

“Wait, Macan.” Laina sounded apologetic for once. “Sit down.” That was hard to do considering that she was sprawled out on the couch but I made due with a spot on the armrest.

“What is it Laina?” I asked with little interest.

Laina paused. “Did you love him?”

I could feel the house get quiet all of a sudden. Though the TV’ volume overpowered a pin drop I could somehow feel Dad and even Mom and Lin in the kitchen listening suddenly also awaiting my answer.

I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t want to provide an answer. I instead found a bush to beat around.

“We had only been seeing each other for three months.” After a few quiet moments I felt the house go back to normal. Dad went back to watching TV and Mom and Lin finished up in the kitchen. Meanwhile Laina kept her eyes on me sitting up. I assumed she had something further to say. I sat down next to her.

“I read your online journal, you know”

“Yeah, thanks for respecting my privacy.”

“You’re welcome. But you never mentioned his name.”

“What?”

“The guy you—with—“I didn’t like where this was going.

“Look, Laina. It’s none of your business.”

“Just tell me the first letter of his name! I bet I can guess!”

“Laina!” Mom shouted, coming to my rescue. I wanted to drown. Rolling my eyes I went to my old room to find Ocean.

He didn’t change a bit; same sandy brown pup with the exception of a big white spot on his rear end. Ocean was always a good listener thought not too good with feedback. He usually gave an occasional bark but that probably meant he was bored and hungry or that he just needed to make. I took it to be equivalent to a human nod.

I vented to Ocean and just like always he listened and nodded occasionally. It felt so good to be home. Mom was constantly calling me back downstairs probably because she knew I was up here sulking. Lin would give me a concerning glance and I’d suppress my true emotions and give a bland smile back, which for her sufficed.

For the remainder of the night the sound of Christmas tunes replaced the A minor melody of guilt and stupidity of my mistake playing in my head. We all stayed up until about 11 or so that night adding finishing touches our family traditional baked gingerbread house. Every year it seemed to get bigger and sweeter. After we finished up, I realized Mom and Lin removed themselves from the kitchen for the first time in hours.

As everyone dissipated to their quarters I turned off the living room lights and took over the couch Laina had been glued to since we got home.

For the first time since before 10am this morning I was as alone as I had been for the past two weeks.

What had I done? What was I thinking? Macon was just perfect to me. I found his flaws, his isms, everything about him intriguing. He refused to go in public without his favorite basketball cap. Since the day we met I’d rarely seen him without it. One day I went to the hospital while he was working and during his break he went with me to donate blood. He would comfort me saying, “We’ll close our eyes at the same time and you can squeeze my hand as hard as you’d like”. He would close his eyes as he said this and I tried to pry his cap off, thinking it was always the perfect opportunity. He always was prepared to keep me from showing the world his dark brown wavy curls.

Although everyday I spent with Macon were all equally enjoyed, I do put our third date above all others. It was September 10. We went to a beach located not too far from school. Surprisingly we were the only two there, although, I liked it much better that way. With one hand in Macon’s and the other holding my shoes I walked the wet sandy shore, my feet flirting with the sweepings of mini waves washing up upon my ankles.

We had our first kiss there together. Macon led me to a big tree with branches that swooped low to the ground. He and I just and I enjoyed being in his wonderful embrace. We absorbed the silence and soaked up the view with our eyes.

What other couples would classify as an awkward silence we knew was only a hint that a first kiss would soon be due. Macon’s touch grew soft and his hands made their way from my arms to my face. Our eyes locked and his dilated pupils pulled me in closer. My body was melting as his lips parted, drawing near. He playfully kissed my forehead slowly, softly. He continued down with a gentle landing on my nose. I enjoyed this prelude ending with both cheeks then trailing his nose from my right cheek to my upper lip, the first kiss started: unhurried with little detachment.

My eyes seemed to close on their own and somehow our eyes would open at the same time, locking eyes momentarily before closing again.

Macon’s warm embrace went cold and his face faded as a blurred focus on the TV sharpened, bringing me back to reality. I wiped away tears that trailed down my face. But no matter how much I wiped them away I knew they’d continue to fall off my face for a long time. I gave up wiping my face as another set of tears made their way to the floor. I tried to tell myself it’s for the best but even I knew this was not for the best.

I suddenly heard footsteps.

“Mom?” A shadowed figured became recognizable by the moonlight coming in through the windows.

“Dad. What are you still doing up?” Dad was always the first to retire for the night.

“I should be asking you the same question.” Dad tasseled my hair and cupped my face in his hand allowing a stubborn tear to make its plunge into his palm.

“Macan--”

“Dad, I’m fine. You know it doesn’t take more than a yawn to set my tear ducts off.”

I hoped he bought my excuse. For a moment he just sat there saying nothing.

“I’m fine” I repeated assuringly.

“Wrong tense.” Dad replied. “You will be fine. I know you’re not fine, kiddo.” After a few more moments of silence he continued.

“So did you open your present from me yet?”

“Yeah. Thanks. I really like it”. This was not true. I had three of the same out of style pink polo sweater now thanks to him, meanwhile, Lin and Laina gets more trendy clothing while I’m stuck wearing Marco polo from 2006.

“The year you went off to college was actually a hard year for me and your mom. That Christmas you came home was the first time we’d seen you since you started school and we both missed you so much. It had been a few months but you looked so different, so—grown up. You were an adult in my eye; this responsible, trustworthy, amazing adult. I captured a mental picture. You remember what you were wearing? Your hair was pulled back tight in a pony with a few strands falling into your face. I remember specifically you wearing a pink polo sweater.” I looked up sharply.

“That’s my baby girl, I thought. My daughter’s all grown. So I give you one every year and I know you hate it but—“

“Dad,” I interrupted. “I had no idea. Granted the sweater gifts became a tad monotonous. But I love them and I love you even more, dad.” Dad smiled at me then retired to bed, saying nothing and everything at the same time. I sighed heavily into the quiet atmosphere.

I was finally alone. I went back to listening to my therapeutic mp3 on repeat and I let the tears flow. My heart had been so hollow for weeks now. I tried to hold myself pretending I was wrapped in Macon’s embrace. Unbelievable…Unforgivable… Please come back to me Macon. My thoughts carried me to sleep.

***

Macon called me—taken over by a high strung rage, confronting me over and over again.

“Why? Why?” He repeated never really wanting to know my reasoning. “

“I can’t believe this. How could you—YOU-- do such a thing—and to me? I can never forgive you! Don’t think I’m ever coming back to you! I thought we had something special. I thought we had--” His voice was disrupted by a sudden realization. “Oh, God. You are just like the rest of them. Just when I thought I found something so perfect you wrapped your anchor around my heart sinking me to the bottom of the ocean. Get out my life. Get out of my life!”

I arrived back at my dorm much quicker than I’d ever gotten there before. Dropping all my belongings and removing my coat I rushed to my desk. Gasping for air at this point, I snatched out paper from my spiral and grabbed a pen and began writing.

Dear Macon,

I don’t know where to start. Is there a chance, a second chance for us again? Should I just write this letter with you never knowing how truly sorry I am. I want to see your face. My heart told me to do this. There’s nothing else I want more than to see your face. There’s nothing more I want than to be with you, Macon.

There was a knock at the door and my heart stopped. I noticed hands peeking in through the doorframe. Macon’s hand? I stood up mummified. Macon?

“You left these in your door.” Bryan from down the hall popped his head in the door tossing me my dorm keys. With a disappointing nod of slight gratitude I closed the door resting my back against it. I felt the vibrations of yet another knock on my door. Irritated I stood up ready to slam the door in Bryan’s face. My body froze when I saw Macon staring at me through the crack in the door.

I felt my legs giving out as I felt myself about to faint. Macon wedged through the door pushing it open just in time to catch me as I slowly swayed backwards, my body crumbling to the floor. Macon’s touch was barren my back. I looked him in his eyes that were just as desolate. I welcomed his kiss nonetheless and grew oddly uncomfortable as he mopped my face with his tongue. I pushed him back thinking he had given me one of those hateful kisses I’d only seen in movies when the guy would make out with the girl out of spite, afterwards walking away without a word.

As I looked fiercely at him in a nonresponsive state I could feel my entire face moisten. Still holding a one sided gaze I wiped my face bringing my forearm to my forehead. With a single swipe across my brow I brought it back, staring at the wall. I was baffled. I let my body sink down to the floor and back to waking life.

As short as the dream seemed, I woke up many hours later around 8am to Ocean’s snout exhaling dog breath into my disheveled hair. Dabbing the back of my sleeve over my face and neck I gained consciousness, becoming more aware of the holiday tunes that played so faintly in my dreams now in the kitchen. With my mp3 player dead, I could no longer shut myself off from the real world around me.

The house was suddenly crowded with Aunts and Uncles I hadn’t seen in months and cousins I hadn’t laid eyes on in years. Sweet cinnamon filled the air as Lin walked toward me with the front porch steps she broke from the gingerbread house.

“Hey, sis.” I sat up allowing for Lin to plop down on the couch beside me. She gave me a piece of gingerbread.

“Probably not the first thing you should eat the morning but you missed breakfast. Mom didn’t want us to wake you. Aunt Mary didn’t wake you earlier did she? She was knocking pretty hard when she arrived with Uncle Nathan, sorry about that.”

“No.” I muttered. I just held on to the gingerbread, thinking about how selfish I was to just want to be alone, back in my dorm room.

“Hey, come on, Macon. Don’t get all gloomy. Come on. You’ve got some presents to open.” Lin’s eyes lit up when she said presents. I told myself to be less selfish, more altruistic. As hard as it was to do, I had to cheer up. I stood up only to sit down in front of the Christmas tree searching for the presents with my name on them.

Present number one: a ---bible? Who gets bibles for Christmas, seriously? Who was this from? I opened the front cover. Aunt Millie. How nice. I erased the confused look I wore off my face and tried to be thankful. Aunt Millie converted from one religion to another throughout her life. She was born and raised a Catholic but, at the age of 16, she decided she wanted a “less strict” religion to follow hence becoming agnostic. I never realized why that was technically considered a religion. She converted to Islam when she married Uncle Hassan. That marriage lasted exactly 27 days. Shortly after their divorce, she researched Buddhism, interested in converting, but she had such a difficult time pronouncing related terminology like Dharma and Sangha. She mistook the 3 jewels of Buddhism as Buddy, Donna and Sangria. Since her self “mis-education” of Buddhism she decided she would be more self aware of not only Buddhism but other religions as well. She actually knows a lot now about all kinds of religions and spiritual lifestyles.

“Ahh, you got the Bible.” Lin laughed. “I got the Book of Mormon. Laina got the Tanakh.” Lin couldn’t help but snicker though I didn’t see the joke in it.

My eye caught a glimpse of an unusually non-Christmas-y colored box. It was topped with a satin pink bow placed so neatly upon beautiful black and white bohemian paisley gift wrapping. Already I was too intrigued. I turned the gift on it side. Macan, it read. It was for me but there was no name written as to who it was from. No benefactor. It wasn’t until I opened my second present when a smile finally found its way on my face for the first time in two weeks.

Peeling back the pretty wrapping, a box of roses had been revealed to me; real roses, and not only real but rare pink and white Brigadoon. I couldn’t detect a smell from it but they were simply beautiful and that was enough for me.

“Mom,” I called into the kitchen. Why was mom always in the kitchen?

“Yeah?” She replied.

“Come here, mom.”

Mom descended from the kitchen carrying the sweet smell with her.

“Are these from you?” I handed her the roses. Mom became a deer caught in the headlights. She paused as if she was searching for words.

“Wow,” she gasped. “Oh, those aren’t from me.” My eyes narrowed.

“Maybe this is Dad’s way of reimbursing you for those god-awful sweaters he’s been getting you for the past few years.” Laina’s voice crept up behind me.

Dad turned around on the recliner, “Laina, be nice.”

“Yea,” I added. “Thanks, dad, I love them.”

“It’s not from me, kiddo.” Dad turned back around, glued his eyes back to the television.

I looked around slightly confused. No one in the house spoke up for the mysterious gift. It was apparent they weren’t from Laina and Lin would’ve said something by now if they were from her. I looked back to mom who remained tightlipped. I would’ve greatly assumed Macon but that would not be logical thinking.

“Here, this is from me!” Lin pushed an oblong shaped gift into my arms, forcing me to depart from my lovely roses. I could barely wrap my arms around it. I knelt down standing it up on the floor. It was fairly light and flexible. Several guesses ran through my mind. I was thinking, blow up clown, but that was a ridiculous guess. My reasoning being that no one gave blow up clowns as gifts anymore, not that I was too old to play with them. I was also thinking that it could be a huge pillow, maybe a pink one with the word Princess stitched across it. Lin knew pink was my favorite color and I often joked that in a previous life I probably was a real princess. I decided to just go for it and rip the package open.

What had started off as a staccato chuckle turned into bright, bubbly laughter. Lin and I basked in the amusement at the ridiculously large pillow she had custom made with my initials in the bottom corner. I was exactly right.

Lin, Laina and I were very good at the whole ESP thing. I placed the pillow down and sat down, bouncing lightly upon it. It was nice to be showered with gifts and it was even more so nice being with people who cared about you. That along with the holiday music still playing and the Christmas lights seemed to put me in a better mood.

Being home was just what I needed to get over Macon, I thought. It went by faster than I imagined it would. I really enjoyed being with my family but I had to be getting back to my dorm. The New Year was 2 days away and I had to get back to school early for the party of a lifetime. Besides, as much as I’d miss Ocean I couldn’t bare to wake up to his slobbery smooches again. I carefully placed the Brigadoon, still as beautiful as the day I received them, into my backpack. Managed to carry the life-size pillow under one arm and headed to the car.

*******

Mandy shook her head as I walked into Six Thirty’s more content than when she’d last seen me.

“New outfit,” she began, tugging at my “newest” polo, “no more bed head. Are you okay?”

“I’m getting there. What about you, what have you been up to this past week? Did you go home for Christmas?”

“ Yeah, I visited the ‘rents for a bit. They took me shopping for extra gifts the day after Christmas, as if I hadn’t been showered enough, ya know? I appreciated it though, you know I got let go from Pandora’s. Supposedly their business gets so slow in the winter they can’t afford to keep everyone.”

“Aww, that’s too bad, Mandy. You know, though, people tend to get lazy in the winter. I’m sure people are quitting their jobs left and right this time of year. Grab the classifieds”. Surely, the sheet of dust coverings the classifieds stacked in the corner meant that no one was looking for work, so MANDY would have very little competition. Although, it also meant that those classifieds had been sitting there for about a couple of week so those jobs were most likely unavailable. Mandy’s desperation blinded her to these odds.

“ Let’s see,” Mandy started her index finger at the top of the page gliding it down, every few seconds muttering a “nope”, “minimum wage” “ugh, food service”.

“Okay, you keep searching, “I encouraged. “I’m gonna get us some cappuccinos.” As I waved over the waitress I realized I wasn’t feeling too bad. Perhaps I could actually come to terms wit reality and be normal for once. I could drink my cappuccino as a new woman.

“Oh, my goodness!” Mandy gasped.

I turned around to Mandy’s frozen hand in the air.

“Macan you have to see this.”

“Oh, you found a posting you liked?” Mandy shoved the paper at me, pointing repeatedly at bottom of the page. I stiffened to what I had discovered.

Single male looking for single woman to spend time with. Work fulltime but free on weekends. 555-3595. Ask for Macon.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. The guilt and regret I lived in for the past few weeks took hold of me again. I stared blankly at Mandy clutching the paper in my hands. I was stupid to think I’d be alright. I was not alright. I was only temporarily distracted from thinking about Macon. I wanted to be in bed. Mandy read my mind.

“Come on, Macan. Let’s head back to the dorm”. I’m not sure if the walk back was too long or too short. Maybe it actually took forever to get back or maybe 10 seconds. I was not aware of my surroundings. In my mind, I was drowning in a dark sickness I couldn’t describe. Was it depression?

I barely heard Mandy as she left me to my lonesome.

“It’s about 8 now. I’ll give you a few hours to be alone, okay? I’ll stop by at midnight or so and see if you’re still up.”

I slept past midnight into New Year’s Eve. I woke up at about 3pm with Macon’s personal ad still in my hands. I read those words so much it was committed to memory. As I showered, I said back to myself, “Single male looking. Single. Looking. On my way to the cafeteria with Mandy, I thought. “Looking for single woman. Looking. Single. I ate in silence, my mind recycling thoughts of “Ask for Macon. Macon: Single, Looking.

Suddenly I snapped back into my driven mode. You can get him back, I told myself. Then I remembered my list still sitting in my trashcan. I spoke for the first time all day. “Mandy, we have to go.”

As we made our way into the dorm room, I remembered what a mess my room had been when I left for Christmas vacation. There was a faint odor coming from my mini fridge. Mandy stopped me before I opened it, advising that I just throw the entire fridge away. I sprayed a bit of air freshener, it’s Mango Paradise fragrance overpowering the smell leaking from the Tupperware mom offered me two weeks ago. After setting my backpack down, I rummaged through the trash, eager to show her the list I had compiled in hopes of winning back Macon’s heart.

“I was only brainstorming but—“

“Macan!” Mandy shook me slightly before taking a long glance around my room. “I’m concerned about you. You’re thinking about this way too much.”

“I know.” I let her words sink in, aborting my search. “I am Mandy, I know. But, didn’t you ever meet someone just knowing you could love them, really love them?” Mandy’s face grew relaxed, slightly saddened.

“No,” she replied.

“When you feel about someone the way I feel about Macon, then come to me. Come to me when you meet a guy and upon seeing his face your whole world just takes a breath and starts all over again. “I finally gave Mandy the detailed story behind the fall of Macon and me. I know what I did was wrong, but all that I could do now was seek redemption. Being with Macon was what my heart wanted more so than my mind, is that was at all possible. I read a few verses I highlighted in the bible Aunt Millie gave me.

“Love is patient; love is kind and envies no one. Love is never boastful, conceited, rude;” I sighed heavily before continuing, “Love does not take offense and there is no--”

“You forgot selfish.” Mandy interjected, aware of the verses I was referring to. “Love is never selfish.

“Did I?” I asked, aloof. I couldn’t pull myself to read that part and I couldn’t let Mandy know I skipped it on purpose. I closed the book putting it aside.

I tried to tell Mandy how I felt in my own words. “You know, there’s love and there’s in love, you know? It’s like being in a new place, like—like New York. They say New York is like no other city in the states just as love is like no other emotion you can feel.”

Mandy nodded signaling her comprehension.

“So, there’s being in New York and then there’s New York” I lost Mandy.

“Being in New York is fun, vibrant, scary, and overwhelming— if you’re there for the first time. Once New York grows on you, it’s just New York, much more serious; you’re living there, trying to survive.”

Mandy’s smile indicated I wasn’t just going off on a tangent.

“I see now.”

“You do?” I was relieved. I had a tendency of rambling on without making any sense.

“Are you in love with him?”

“I am so in love with him.” I confessed on the verge of crying.

“Do you love him?” She looked at me feeling my pain, offering condolences through her eyes. What Laina tried to pry out of me, Mandy asked in a more subtle curious tone. Here I was about to reveal to Mandy the two words I’d never expect myself to say when it came to Macon. I stood up and placed the bible on my desk. I gave her doubtful eyes. “Not yet.”

*******

Later that evening Mandy decided that we would not mention Macon for the rest of the night. I was not allowed to think about him lest I spoil the day, heading into the New Year a hopeless wreck. Mandy was truly a great friend. She only wanted the best for me. She didn’t mind that I spent all morning disheartened, whining over a failed relationship. Oh, right. I mean ruined relationship.

Mandy would instead divert my attention towards more positive things. She reminded me that I didn’t have to worry about shopping for textbooks and school supplies for a while. There was a dull excitement inside of that wanted to rejoice the fact that school wouldn’t be starting back until the 15th. She also reminded me that we could spend that time shopping, ice skating and guiltlessly lounging around in bed.

“The skies the limit for the next two weeks.” she said, helping me put my room back into order. They say that cleaning is a good way to clear your mind. The more tidy my room became the more organized my thoughts became. I put Macon on the backburner as Mandy began to excite me over tonight’s New Year’s party.

Goodbye with the old and hello to the new, I thought to myself.

“Okay,” I said aloud. Mandy went on cleaning, unaware of my beginning declaration.

“Let’s have fun tonight.” I tried to convince myself I could move on. Mandy instantly put her faith in me.

“That’s the spirit, Macan.” Mandy gave a long lance around the room.

“That didn’t take long at all.”

“Moving on?” I began doubting my plan.

“No, no. Moving on is going to take a long time,” Mandy gave a half-hearted laugh. I felt a knot in my stomach.

“Look at this room now. It’s back to normal.” There was something about the way she said that that struck me. Normal. What was normal now? Not being with Macan wasn’t normal. What I did sure wasn’t normal. I gave my room a glance as well. This was back to normal. I wanted to go back there too. I could feel myself becoming another person.

“Let’s go shopping!” Mandy said. As she pulled me out of the room, I managed to grab hold on the doorknob. Shutting the door behind me I quickly admired my new clean room. My bed was so neatly made with my backpack perfectly positioned against my big pink pillow. I remembered the rose that was inside.

Mandy and I strolled around Essentials looking for the perfect little black dress. Apparently every sane woman had to own one and Mandy insisted that we find those dresses here. After picking out our top three choices we went to try them on.

“You know, Audrey Hepburn popularized the little black dress for women worldwide.” I could hear Mandy all too well in the fitting room a few doors down from me.

“Black,” she continued. “is seductive, sleek and down right—“

“Depressing” I said automatically, looking at the ugly plain cotton sleeveless black dress I was trying on. I took it off and tried on the other one I picked out.

“Sexy.” She corrected me. “They’re the three S’s of the perfect little black dress. I could hear her grunting and shifting about her body into a dress.

“Yes. Perfect.” Mandy seemed satisfied with her dress, meanwhile the black satin dress I was trying on, two sizes too big went over my head and fell right to the floor. I looked at my last dress, thankful it was at least the right size.

“I hope this dress is the one, Mandy.”

“Okay, I’m out. Let’s see you”.

I patted out my black chiffon dress one more time. Turning side to side, absorbing the sleek, seductive and sexiness it offered. My confidence went straight to my head. I stepped out excited to see Mandy.

“Whoa, mama!” Mandy twirled me around taking in my awesomeness.

“We do look pretty darn good.” I noticed Mandy’s B cup bust had been upgraded with the help of her push up bra.

“We are going to rock this party tonight!”

That was the general consensus of the night. Mandy and I were definitely the life of the New Years party. It was going on 11pm and we had one hour left before entering the New Year. Karaoke had begun in the living room. Mandy and I started drinking our body weights in Jose Cuervo and Orange juice.

It didn’t take much for my buzz to kick in. I sat at the kitchen table with Mandy as we gabbed with a few other girls about love and it’s intricate technicalities.

“Love isn’t real” one girl started

“Love is definitely real, Sarah. You can feel it.” Her friend argued.

“No, Amy. It’s not real and you can’t feel it”. Sarah was pinched by Amy who let out a high pitche scream.

“You felt that, didn’t you? Then you can feel love. Love is just as detectable as anything else. Just as real as someone pinching you, am I right?”

I became the next contributor to the discussion. I eyed Mandy who came to my rescue. She knew this was not a topic I wanted to partake in right now.

“There’s love and there’s in love, you know? It’s like being in a new place, like—like New York.” I heard Mandy’s voice trail off as I made my way into the crowded living room. Someone was singing Glycerine. As I read the words on the tv screen the lyrics became all to familiar to me. I wasn’t sure if I’d even heard the song before. The booze was probably getting to me even the voice sounded familiar. I stumpled past people to see who was singing but being vertically challenged didn’t help as I was not even tall enough on my high heels to get a glimpse of the current singer. Giving up I plumped down on a couch accidently stepping on the toes of the guy next to me.

I could feel my speech starting to slur “Oh so sorry, so sorry” I said swaying over on the armrest.

“Macan? Macan, whatuh you doin’ here?”

I looked over to see Drunk Henry smiling at me like a fool. It took a few moments to realize that was actually him.

“Henry,I’m drunk too. I’m drunk Macan!” Throwing a heavy hand in the air I realize I carried the Tequilla with me from the kitchen.

“You seem to be doing better”

“I’m doing just fine. So fine.”

“That’s good to hear. You’re moving on.”

I stood up fast stumbling back. Henry quickly took hold of my hand. I wanted to tell him that I hadn’t moved on. But I didn’t want to go into the new year as a total wreck.

“Let’s dance”. I grabbed his other hand and let him near the music. I don’t know why put I really did feel like I’d heard this song before, a song about not being alone and yet being alone, about needing more but wanting less. Had I even heard this song before? I began to feel a sense of déjà vu.

The melody carried on as the singer paused. After a moment I figured he forgot how the song went. Then Henry stopped dancing with me, taking his hands from my sides. I realized I had become to center of attention somehow. I turned around and as my eyes focused on the singer in the front of the room my body stiffened at the sight of Macan right bef