I sigh, for what must be the hundredth time this night. My gaze lingers on the many empty bottles of beer on my table. It is a form of self—pity, I suppose, to drink yourself into oblivion. Like everyone in this room, I too have a very good reason to get shit—faced tonight. The horrible feeling of the hangover I would surely experience tomorrow should have put a brake on today's activities like it had done so many times before, but then I had never felt like this before in my life, I remind myself.
I must be a very sorry picture to others, sitting alone in a dark corner of this establishment while people around me raved and partied like there's no tomorrow. I watch as my fingers roll the beer bottle and I watch as a single drop of condensation rolls down its neck.
The reason for my drinking rushes into my head like vivid flashes behind my eyes and I sober up a little. It happened to me as it happened to everyone else these days. It was a cliché really, to find my long—term girlfriend with another man in the bed that we shared, in the house that we leased together, resulting in the shattering of the hopes and dreams we spent so much time and energy creating. I guess I spent way much more energy in that aspect, considering she was investing her energy elsewhere.
I had not stopped to confront her. Instead, I had run. Maybe that was cowardice, maybe it was self—preservation but at that moment, I had desperately needed to get away. So, I did. I got on the plane without thinking about anything and traveled to the other side of the country. And the first thing I did after dumping my carelessly packed luggage into my room, was to come here and drown my troubles. Real mature, I know.
Maybe, it wouldn't have hurt so much if Alicia hadn't been the last string that had connected me to my old life. The fact that I had spent almost seven years with her didn't exactly help matters. Seven years! That's the amount of energy I spent in the relationship which is an utter waste now. Seven years of my life, gone. Whoosh! Just like that. I am never going to get that back again. And I didn't know what it said about the state of our relationship if I was more depressed about the work I put into it than the fact that it had come to an inevitable end.
"Excuse me, do you mind doing me a favor?" My eyes which were previously riveted to the bottle swing upwards and land on a girl hovering beside my seat. I hesitate before answering because I didn't want company right now, all I want to do is overthink and regret the last seven years of my life.
Curse my good manners because instead of doing what I wanted and rejecting the girl, I weakly nod and hope that I would not regret this decision. The girl slides in the seat across from me and suddenly the amply sized booth in which I had camped so far tonight feels too small. Her leg bumps with mine which brings a faint blush to her cheeks. I force myself to sit straight so that she could have more space. At this moment, I hope she would just get on with it so that I could go back to my sulking.
"Thank you," she says while her eyes wander nervously over the dance floor. I follow her gaze and immediately a shudder passes through my body. I have always been uncomfortable with closed places and the dance floor was packed with people. I return my eyes to look at the girl in front of me. I wait for her to say something but she keeps looking around the club.
The girl in front of me is dressed demurely and I could tell that this club is not her scene at all. Her face is makeup—free and I could spot a few freckles smattered across her nose even in the dim lighting. Her lips are pursed in irritation and her auburn hair is twisted in a ponytail. A few rebellious strands have escaped from the carefully wound pony and frame her face making her look youthful. She is dressed in a wine—colored halter—neck top and her finger is relentlessly tapping on the table and I have this sudden urge in me to lean forward and hold her hand so that she would stop this damned tapping.
She returns her gaze to me and I immediately look away from her. I don't want to get caught looking at her, so I force myself to look at her and know what she wants. "What did you want from me?"
Her eyes swing back to me and she blinks in confusion before realization dawns on her face. She clasps her hands together and smiles hesitantly at me. "I, um, my name is Daphne." My eyebrows shoot up as faint blush coats her cheeks. She had just given me a fake name and consequently, caught my interest. "I wanted to get away from a man at the bar," she whispers the last part uncomfortably, and my eyebrows furrow in irritation or protectiveness, I have no idea.
"And you hope to do this by sitting here?" I question her.
"I excused myself by saying I needed to get back to my boyfriend," she whispers the last part and I lean forward to hear her.
