1001 Insomniac Nights

When Brent first met Amy, she seemed like a blessing from God.

Brent and I sat at the bar, scanning over the people that came in. I think he was waiting for me to make a move, but after finding out that the last two girls we were hitting on were lesbians, I was in too shitty a mood to even bother.

And then she walked in.

Dressed up in a way that invariably said ‘I’m single and I don’t care,’ I gave her a once over and moved on.

Brent, however, couldn’t seem to keep his eyes off her. He watched her when she walked to the bar, when she ordered her drink, and when she made her way to a table and sat down alone. His mouth was hanging half open the entire time.

It was so pathetic, it was almost cute.

“We’ve been here a while,” I said.

“Yeah,” Brent agreed distractedly.

“Nearly three hours, I think.”

“Seems so,” Brent said, wishing I’d be quiet.

“I’m feeling kind of tired,” I said, watching him from the corner of my eye. “You?”

“Yeah,” he agreed again.

“I think we should leave.”

“Sure. Le… What?” Brent sputtered out.

I hid my grin as I finished off my beer. “What? You want to stay?”

“Well, yeah,” Brent answered lamely. “I mean…uh… I want another drink.”

“We have plenty at home, you know.”

“Well… uh, it’s all yours.”

I waved my hand. “It doesn’t matter, you know that. Look, I’m tired, and unless you have a good reason, I don’t feel like sitting here and watching you waste money.”

“You’re right,” Brent conceded, standing up. “Let’s go.”

I just sat there. “That’s it?”

Brent looked at me confused. “What’s it?”

“Like, ‘that’s it.’ That’s all. You’ve been staring at her for the last ten minutes, and you’re ready to go just like that?”

“I… uh, what do you mean?”

I looked over at the girl and indicated her with a nod with my head. “Her.”

Brent, the weirdo that he was, flushed a little. “Her? So, what about her? She’s pretty and all, but what’s it matter?”

“Pretty,” I agreed. “And single. And obviously not happy about it. So?”

He gave me that same confused expression. “So… what?”

I shook my head. “And you wonder why you’re still single?”

Brent actually managed to look a little angry. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Go talk to her.”

He blanched. “And say what?”

“How about, ‘Hi, my name’s Brent’?”

He glanced back at her for an instant, and then looked immediately away. “And just walk up to her?”

“How else are you going to start a conversation?”

Brent looked up at her, then looked back down. “Just forget about her, okay? Let’s just go.”

I gave him a long glance. “Hey man, it’s your life.” I stood up. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

Brent surprised me then. He didn’t turn and walk towards the door, he didn’t whine about feeling awkward; instead he took a deep breath and took a shaky step towards the girl he had seen. He managed to walk steady all the way to her table. Whatever he did, she didn’t throw her drink in his face, so I’m assuming he didn’t make an idiot out of himself. In fact, she asked him to sit down. I ordered myself another beer, and got ready to wait for him to come back with her number.

Things seemed to go rather well, both of them smiling and laughing. In fact, they seemed to go well for the next twenty minutes. I ordered another beer, but the crowd at the bar seemed to be thinning out, the singles leaving, either alone or in hastily made couples. Finally, after fifteen more minutes and another beer, Brent stood up. He walked over to me.

“The bar’s about to close,” he said.

“I noticed,” I answered with a shrug. “So, what’s her name? And did you get her number yet? I’d like to get out here.”

“It’s Amy. And actually…” Brent glanced over to her, blushing. She was watching him with a proud smile on her face. “She invited me to come up to her apartment for a drink…” He trailed off.

I blinked at him for a second, letting that filter through. Invited him up for a drink. And then I laughed and shook my head in disbelief. “And you came back here for permission?”

Brent looked even more embarrassed. “Well, I mean, we came here together, and you’re the one that dragged…” He stopped talking when he saw the expression on my face.

“Go,” I told him. “Just go. It’s not like I came here to find a date.”

“Th…thanks,” he stuttered out, visibly relaxing.

“No problem,” I answered. And at that, he turned around and made his way back to her. She stood as he approached, then took his hand and led him almost seductively out of the bar. Like I’d want to deal with him if he didn’t go with her, I thought as the door swung shut behind them. He’d either never stop talking about how much he liked her, or he’d be mad at me for not having gone. I stayed a the bar for a few more minutes, watching the last of the stragglers make their way out before I settled with the bar-tender and left myself.

Valentine’s Day, I thought to myself. And I’m leaving a bar, all on my own, and Brent found himself a girl And the only reason I came out here was because he was probably going to cry himself to sleep tonight if I hadn’t.

Outside the door, there was a girl there, in a tight blue dress with curly black hair. She was staring out over the street, but didn’t seem to be going anywhere.

“Looking for a cab?” I asked her.

She looked over at me, surprised. “No,” she said. “I’m waiting for a car I called.”

“How long ago did you call for it?”

“About five minutes.” She shrugged.

“Ah. You’ve probably got another ten or so, then.”

She sighed. “Yeah, I know. It probably wouldn’t have taken that long to find a cab out here.”

“Well, maybe not here.” I said with a laugh. “But a block or so that way,” I pointed east, “and you probably wouldn’t have had a problem.”

“I’ll remember that,” she said. Then she looked over at me. “Are you waiting for a cab?”

I shook my head. “Nah, I live a few blocks that way.” I pointed north.

“Oh,” she said, then asked. “Are you a student?”

“Yeah. You?”

“Yeah,” she answered. “Junior.”

“Senior.”

“I don’t think I’ve seen you around campus.”

“There are ten thousand students or so,” I said with a grin.

“True,” she agreed. Another few seconds passed. “So what are you doing out on your own?” she asked.

I shrugged. “My roommate was bummed because it was Valentine’s Day, so I dragged him out here.”

“Your roommate?” she asked. “Guys get bummed on Valentine’s Day?”

“My roommate does.”

“Oh.”

We stood there in companionable silence for a few more minutes. I looked over and noticed she was shifting a little, wrapping her thin coat tighter around herself.

“Night’s not over yet,” I said simply. “You could always come over for a drink.”

She looked at me, surprised.

I shrugged. “I mean, I’m just going to go home and be bored. I wouldn’t mind a little companionship.”

“I…” she began, and then hesitated. Her eyes turned to the car that had just pulled up to the side of the street. When she turned back, she gave me a sad smile. “My car’s here.”

“Oh,” I said. I looked at her, then at the car, then back to her. “It’s not like I couldn’t call you another cab.”

She looked at me again, the expression on her face confused. Then she took two steps, closing the gap between us.

I met her, eye to eye, uncertain as to what I should do. Then, standing just on her tip-toes, she gave me a gentle, but long, kiss. Finally, she dropped back down and took a few steps backwards.

“Happy Valentine’s,” she said, giving me a guilty smile. And then she turned around and walked to her car.

“Yeah, you too,” I said, but I doubt she heard me. She got in the cab and it drove off, leaving me behind to watch it.

With a shrug of my shoulders, I walked home.