that night

I like that you were decisive. You chose the place and all I had to do was say "near" or "far". Of course I said near. I was surprised you chose such a rosy place. I thought this would be a beer night and nothing more. Nevertheless, it couldn't have been more perfect.

There was never any expectation; that's probably why I enjoyed the night the most. But who was I kidding. I did expect some things. I expected to flounder. I expected to sit there and endure the evening. I expected to be someone else when all else failed. I even planned to bring a deck of cards with me in case we run out of things to talk about. But then we had all night long.

As I stepped foot in the cabana, I noticed you were nervous - fidgety even. I thought it was charming given you were never the nervous type. I was sweating like a pig. Good thing I have never felt so beautiful. I made sure of that. The way your eyes looked at mine while we were engaging in standard small talk was a rare thing - something I'd always remember. I began to feel that sense of comfort, one that's accompanied by the voice inside my head telling me that this was going to be a good night.

A handful of rose petals were scattered on the dining table, an ironic touch for two long-lost friends. They have not gone unnoticed as you jokingly pointed out their existence - like they were really not supposed to be there. I automatically positioned myself to sit across you but you immediately nudged the chair beside you so we'd be sitting right next to each other. Close.

After a cigarette or two, we had settled on a tasting menu and a trio of oysters you were so not willing to let go of. I like nothing more than eating fancy food. But I like it even more with wine. The whole time we were trying to decide what to indulge in, all I could think of was wine. Nights like these are all about the wine. And before I knew it, a glass of red was served and we began to catch-up seven-years-worth of stories. I realized right then and there that it wasn't just my imagination. We were close friends not so long ago and here we are.

I salivated about the real score of your recent break-up. Nothing beats the combination of good wine and love stories. As you recount the nitty-gritty details of your relationship, I couldn't help but notice the good changes about you. For the first time in a long time, I never thought I'd be able to talk to you this way, like a real person, like a good friend. We talked about work, dreams, and heartbreaks. I particularly liked how you wanted to make art out of the emotions of betrayal. I sat there agreeably. It's rare to talk to someone with utmost attentiveness - cellphones on the side and eyes in contact. Before long we were the only ones left in the restaurant. 

We decided to cap the night with good old-fashioned beer. The night was young and I was enjoying our conversation. I knew you did too. This time around, in a more casual setting and a bottle of wine under our belts, the ease between us was palpable. We talked about what happened to us, how we lost touch, and your out-of-this-earth ideas about the science behind astrology. I don't really drink that much beer nowadays but for that night I was an open bar. And just like the earlier part of the evening, we found ourselves the last people yet again in this beer hole. How I missed that feeling of mutually not wanting to let go.

It's almost three in the morning. We decided to hang-out some more at a 24/7 Chinese place. I ordered a cup of coffee and you had yourself something to eat. As far as I was concerned we were ready to call it a night but we just can't help ourselves. It's funny how you insisted we go to my place instead. It's funnier that I said no. 

As we sat next to each other in the cab on our way home, I imagined myself kissing you. But that would just ruin it. With a quick peck on the cheek, we said our goodbyes. It felt so good to be in the moment even just for that night.