A party, maybe. Or you just couldn’t wait one more minute before trying to get me out of this dress.”
“That dress does beg to be taken off,” Maggie said.
“Let’s have a look.” Will motioned for her to stand up.
“You didn’t notice her dress?” Maggie asked. “How on earth could you not have noticed her dress?”
Will shut her down: “I was too busy looking at
your
dress.”
Daphne did a walk up and down the aisle of the diner like she was on a fashion runway. Maggie whistled and Will and I applauded. People’s heads turned: it was simply not possible to look away from Daphne as she sauntered past tables and turned on her platform heels, and I said to myself,
Yep, this girl went to the Purple Rain dance with me. Me! Take that, world!
Will spilled ketchup on his nice white shirt. Maggie tried to wipe it clean with a napkin dipped in seltzer. I sat next to Daphne, with my arm draped on the booth behind her, and at one point I almost moved it onto her shoulders because I forgot for a second that she was just a friend. Then I wondered what it was that made this night feel like a double date: was it me and Daphne or was it Will and Maggie?
Will asked Daphne questions about my tattoo photographs and she told him they were works of art and that I should show them in a gallery, which I thought was maybe taking it a little too far. And I held her arm out—her skin was so soft—and turned it to the right and to the left, letting Will and Maggie admire her wrist tattoo.
They asked about her school and her family and she lit up when she talked about her little brother. The burgers weren’t overcooked. The fries were extra crispy. Will and I split the bill. There was some of the milk shake left over and we took it to go and Daphne and I shared it in the backseat on our drive to Boyle Heights. I walked Daphne to her door and I thanked her for at least the fifth time for agreeing to go to the dance and I hugged her, breathing in one last scent of the tropical forest.
The night was pretty damn close to perfect.
So why did she sit near Christopher?
—
After we dropped Daphne off, Will and Maggie told me I was crazy for not dating her, but I continued to insist we were just friends, and when they asked why, I said: “One: she’s probably out of my league. Two: I still love Penny. And three: I’m not ready to date anyone.”
“One: she’s not
probably
out of your league, she’s
totally
out of your league,” Maggie said. “And three: it’s a good thing you don’t want to date anyone, because you need to learn how to be alone. But that brings us to two: why you still love Penny. Seriously, River. Why do you still love Penny? Give me one good reason.”
I thought about this as I sat alone in the backseat of Will’s car, unable to reach the radio, where the kind of sad song played that made you want to walk through rain with tears streaming down your face. Since Penny broke up with me, I’d relived what it felt like to kiss and touch her, to run my hands through her hair, to make her laugh or smile. I was happy when I made Penny happy, and I’d never questioned whether or not that was a good thing. I’d never questioned us, or her, and maybe this was what Penny meant when she said I didn’t think about things, but why would I think about what was wrong when everything felt right to me? And now I worried that I could never love someone else in the same way, and then wondered if I even wanted to love someone else in the same way.
“She was my first love,” I said.
“I know, dude,” Will said. “But at some point it’ll be time for your second love. And it’ll be better.”
I thought about how Penny had watched us tonight and how maybe she’d gone home and turned away from Evan as he tried to kiss her. And maybe she went into her closet to retrieve a box she’d put high on a shelf, full of all the things that reminded her of me—the necklace with the heart on a string, the portrait I’d
“That dress does beg to be taken off,” Maggie said.
“Let’s have a look.” Will motioned for her to stand up.
“You didn’t notice her dress?” Maggie asked. “How on earth could you not have noticed her dress?”
Will shut her down: “I was too busy looking at
your
dress.”
Daphne did a walk up and down the aisle of the diner like she was on a fashion runway. Maggie whistled and Will and I applauded. People’s heads turned: it was simply not possible to look away from Daphne as she sauntered past tables and turned on her platform heels, and I said to myself,
Yep, this girl went to the Purple Rain dance with me. Me! Take that, world!
Will spilled ketchup on his nice white shirt. Maggie tried to wipe it clean with a napkin dipped in seltzer. I sat next to Daphne, with my arm draped on the booth behind her, and at one point I almost moved it onto her shoulders because I forgot for a second that she was just a friend. Then I wondered what it was that made this night feel like a double date: was it me and Daphne or was it Will and Maggie?
Will asked Daphne questions about my tattoo photographs and she told him they were works of art and that I should show them in a gallery, which I thought was maybe taking it a little too far. And I held her arm out—her skin was so soft—and turned it to the right and to the left, letting Will and Maggie admire her wrist tattoo.
They asked about her school and her family and she lit up when she talked about her little brother. The burgers weren’t overcooked. The fries were extra crispy. Will and I split the bill. There was some of the milk shake left over and we took it to go and Daphne and I shared it in the backseat on our drive to Boyle Heights. I walked Daphne to her door and I thanked her for at least the fifth time for agreeing to go to the dance and I hugged her, breathing in one last scent of the tropical forest.
The night was pretty damn close to perfect.
So why did she sit near Christopher?
—
After we dropped Daphne off, Will and Maggie told me I was crazy for not dating her, but I continued to insist we were just friends, and when they asked why, I said: “One: she’s probably out of my league. Two: I still love Penny. And three: I’m not ready to date anyone.”
“One: she’s not
probably
out of your league, she’s
totally
out of your league,” Maggie said. “And three: it’s a good thing you don’t want to date anyone, because you need to learn how to be alone. But that brings us to two: why you still love Penny. Seriously, River. Why do you still love Penny? Give me one good reason.”
I thought about this as I sat alone in the backseat of Will’s car, unable to reach the radio, where the kind of sad song played that made you want to walk through rain with tears streaming down your face. Since Penny broke up with me, I’d relived what it felt like to kiss and touch her, to run my hands through her hair, to make her laugh or smile. I was happy when I made Penny happy, and I’d never questioned whether or not that was a good thing. I’d never questioned us, or her, and maybe this was what Penny meant when she said I didn’t think about things, but why would I think about what was wrong when everything felt right to me? And now I worried that I could never love someone else in the same way, and then wondered if I even wanted to love someone else in the same way.
“She was my first love,” I said.
“I know, dude,” Will said. “But at some point it’ll be time for your second love. And it’ll be better.”
I thought about how Penny had watched us tonight and how maybe she’d gone home and turned away from Evan as he tried to kiss her. And maybe she went into her closet to retrieve a box she’d put high on a shelf, full of all the things that reminded her of me—the necklace with the heart on a string, the portrait I’d
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