I can't sleep. I can't stop thinking about him and what he's doing. What is he doing? I desperatly want to go to a party tonight, I just need to, but it's not now and here that there's going to be a rave with booze where I can forget it all. Well, maybe not a rave, but Syracuse does have booze. I climb out of bed, making sure my floor doesn't creak and grab a hair brush. I clumsily tie my hair into a bun and walk downstairs, still in my red and black plaid pajamas. I put on my leather boots and a jacket. I open the door and the air is warm. I jump into my car and drive off to the nearest bar. I start to get out when I realize. Everyone knows me here. And my age. Getting a whole newspaper article about you every year with updates about your life and Andy Evans' can do that to you. I mean, "the young Melinda, is in the midst of her studies at NYU in art. Andy Evans is still in jail, but his realease is scheduled to be in a few months. Will the pressure of this twenty year's old past life threaten to break through?" God, the pressure of my past is not a girl in puberty, it does not break through. I drive off, not too sure where to go. I know there's another twenty-four hour bar not far out of the city. I guess that's where I'll go. I don't have much choice. When I park, all I want is to be back in New York where it's so big you're pretty sure you won't see anyone you know when you go to the other end of the city. I want to be able to forget David with a sketchbook and some vodka disguised in Jell-o. At least a beer or something. My parents don't let me drink, they believe that's one of the reasons I was raped, so... But, I know that I would have swooned for Andy Evans even I hadn't been drinking. Anyway, this is not the time to think of him. He's stuck somewhere in jail. That thought makes my throat block, so I grab my keys and head inside the digusting old half wooden, half digusting open rock one-story building. I sit at the bar, on a stool. Two people are talking not too far and they are kinda of loud. I don't evesdrop, though. It's not worthit. I order a beer and wait. I close my eyes and hear some angry shouting and the front door close in a THUMP. Great, more drama. I don't open my eyes, though. I hear the sound of a drink being set in front of me and take it without even glancing in it's direction. I gulp, letting the bitter taste fill my mouth. I finally open my eyes, only to see a girl to my left, walking over to the other side, to my right. I don't look where's she going, I just stare at my drink. I stare and stare until I recognize a voice. I know that voice all too well. I heard that voice yell earlier, but didn't recognize it. I take out money and set it under the bottle. I try to the escape before anything else hapens, but I hear my name.
"Melinda?" Asks David. I slowly turn around and look at him. Great. What is he doing here? He stares at me, bewildered. Awe-freaking-some. I want him gone. I think I might actually faint. He gets up. "What are you doing here?" I snort.
"I could ask the same thing of you, I mean there a bunch of bars back in Syracuse." He shrugs, he looks so cute when he does that. I miss him so much and I feel weak for that.
"Yeah, well, I thought there was a chance you'd be in one of them, so I thought I'd get out of the city. What about you?" I guess my excuses pales in comparaison.
"Everyone knows my age bacl in town. I mean, the newspaper article make is impossible to buy a drink without the press knowing about it. Here, I have a slinter of a chance of getting away with it. I guess that's what happens when you drink at parties and..." I don't finish my sentence. He knows, of course he knows.
"Good point. Want another beer?" I look around, searching for January. "She's not here, she just left, I'm surprised you didn't see her, she was yelling pretty loud." I remember the couple arguing, I guess that was them. I cough a bit.
"I have to drive and stuff, sorry, but I'll see you around, okay?" I don't leave him enough time to answer, I run out of there and jump into my car. I only had like one beer and I don't feel tipsy at all, so I can drive fine. I rethink of this short conversation. I can't help, but remember our first time. I mean, that first time. We were studying biology together and it was the end of junior year, during the exam period. I mean, we really were studying. At one point, I dropped my pencil on his textbook and reached over to get it, when he kissed my neck. It was the first time he'd actually kiss my neck. I turn around, face looking up at him and kissed him. It was pure bliss. I knew I liked him a lot, we'd been dating for a year and a half. We said it was love, but I didn't know what love was until later on in our relationship. I remember studying on his bed and our books falling to the floor. I remember not caring and sitting on his lap, legs wrapped around his waist and seeing where this was going. His mother was out for a while and we were all alone. Itsn't nice when that gives out to be? The right answer is: yes. I remember pulling off his shirt and he was never the sporty type, but to me, he was perfect. I remember my shirt coming off and it was the first time he saw me only in a bra. It was incredible. It was beauitufl and magical. I've had sex since with him and with others and I'll have sex later on, but that was the most spectacular time of all. I wish I could say it was my first time. The time I lost my virginity and inocence, but that had happened long before that. I park into my driveway and fall asleep there, in my car.
David-
I look at the acceptance letter again, I never could throw it out. If she saw this, would she still hate me? Would she still blame me for this. I used to think people were going to pity for her because everyone knew what had happened when she was thirteen, but they didn't. They pitied me, for letting for of such a marvelous person. Of letting go of the best girl I'd ever met. I mean, I was ready to deceive my family and teachers to make us work and her happy, but she never knew that. She never knew that I left her to go to Harvard, because I thought she had met some other guy that went to NYU. I was going to tell her that I was transferring to New York, so we could stay together, when she told me about Derek, this awkward sporty guy she knew there and all of sudden my hopes came crashing down. She was going to leave me anyway, so might as well do it now. I guess I was wrong, because turns out Derek was gay drug addict. God, I'm an ass. I really am. It's almost sad. January turns around in the bed and I look at her, as beautiful as she may be, her name is not Melinda Sardino and I don't love her.
