Amelia, Run!

December 16, 2014

Cleveland, Ohio

I looked at my phone’s screen and what it was showing me and I just had to pinch the bridge between my nose; talk about bad timing. Again, my childhood friend, Amanda, wanted to go out and have a drink and by drink I mean a couple of drinks, and by that I mean get wasted. I’m not going to lie, I love to drink. It’s one of those activities that as an adult one can enjoy and not feel guilty or superior, just mediocre and I think that’s what being an adult it’s all about. Nothing more than a poison for the heart and soul to numb the voices of the demons I call insecurities and disappointment that, during my years of college had grown larger and lauder. Usually, if my friends heard this they would tell me to shut up and that I was wrong. That I have changed—for the good and that I haven’t seen it yet, followed by, either a punch in the arm or a light slap in the head. But this time I was tired—not in the mood to go out and go bar hopping. I looked at the clock and sighed. It was past 11. She wanted to go now and I was just about to go to bed. It might winter break but I wanted to catch up on the hours I lost last semester and work on my art projects.

Plus, I hate the cold.

And the heat.

Anything that would make me uncomfortable.

When I didn’t answer her text she called me. I grunted and picked it up. If I ignore her I would never hear the end of it; might as well get it over with.

“¿Qué?” I answered and I threw my big body across my bed.

Amanda, my ray of sunshine and the painful hell fire of my loins, scoffed. “Don’t ¿qué? me. You didn’t answer my text.”

“You didn’t give me time to reply, mujer.”

“Whatever, I will pick you up in one hour. That’s enough time to get ready. I am already dressed so I’ll wait for you since I know you are lying in bed doing nothing.” I grunted really loudly. “One fucking hour or I’ll burst down the door and drag you.” Then she hung up.

Knowing that she does goes along with her threats, I got ready in 45. Some women and men would have thought that what I did was impossible but when you have friend like Amanda, you learn. On my way to the bathroom I took my red lipstick and looked myself in the mirror to see my face and hair. So far my eyeliner my mascara were good and, my messy fake auburn hair was just the right type of messy and the only thing that was missing were my lips but I decided to do it later. I looked at the full mirror in my bathroom door and just… there was nothing more I could do that would make me feel better about my body and how I looked. I could still see the bumps of my belly and no matter how much I sucked my tummy or smooth it with my hands it would never go away. Just a dark blue dress (which is my favorite because the fabric was thick), black sweater, black wool tights—to my ambivalence one of them had a hole and last, some black boots and my black jacket.

Not much.

I walked to my room and took my phone. Amanda texted me asking if I was ready and I reply with a yes. (The woman couldn’t even wait the full hour.) There was a knock on my door and then a rattle on the door knob. I had to learn to lock my door because otherwise they would just burst inside like they own the place. Sometimes I believe that they think that own me.

I forgot to mention that she lived in my apartment complex, just two floors above mine. I opened the door and she was with Brad and Veronica who also live in the complex. At first when we decided to live in the same place, I (we) thought it was going to be fun when we were in our first year but now it’s been five and I want to murder them. (More Brad and Amanda than Veronica but let us not get into details.) Sometimes I don’t know if with love or with arsenic. We have known each other since middle school so it’s no surprise that we are this attached.

“Can I ask why we are going to the club again? Didn’t we go before yesterday?” I said while closing the door.

I looked at my friends and blinked at how good they look even though we were going to do the same thing we do all the time. Amanda was wearing an open military green, lightweight parka, reveling a black shirt with the Artic Monkey’s Do I Wanna Know ? waves from their album and on top, their name—one size too big making the neck of the shirt get stuck in the parka, showing her shoulder (see? I could never make that type of “accident” without looking ridiculous.), a pair of dark skinny jeans and her favorite red, shiny boots. Amanda loved tapping them when she got impatient—like now. I love her edgy style.

Veronica, on the other side, wasn’t as edgy but surprisingly, from the help of Amanda (and Aster—another childhood friend that decided to grow some wings and move ten states away from us—that doesn’t mean she will not be mentioned. She is working at a psychologist company doing heavens know what. We haven’t talked much.), created her own style that only she knew how to pull. She had on a floral blue dress, almost faded blue. The flowers reminded me of the itchy old sofa that my grandmother had back in her island. (No, she is not rich.) But also it reminded me of an old painting from the Victorian era. Then, I looked down and she was wearing some black wool tights (same as me… it was cold.) we had to beg her to put them on. And as our old mentor Aster would say: “All you need in this life is ignorance and confidence, and the success is sure. Mark Twain.” She would end her quote with the author’s name and a pose as if she was the living proof of it. Man, she sure made me laugh. (That glorious successful bastard. I miss her.) Then she had some short brown boots and a white, knitted, open sweater.

Now Brad. He always wore simple outfits but just the right type to catch your attention—even though he was big like me. Just with a long sleeved, dark blue, button shirt with dark maroon suspenders, a dark sweater and pants he would stand out. And let us not forget his light brown undercut haircut. He sure has changed over the years.

Well, he was looking at himself in his pocket mirror and tapped his cheek with his middle finger just to make sure his concealer looked good and as natural as possible. “Don’t ask questions.” This was his answer to my question as if that is all I needed to hear. “This is why you are single.” He closed his mirror and gave her an evil smirk.

I pushed his shoulder. “You go to bars and clubs all the time,” we started walking. “Heck, more than me and you are still single.”

Brad pushed his big glasses up his nose with his finger. “Ah! The reason is simple, dear: I chose to be single. There is no man who can tie me up.” I could beg to differ. There is a guy from his past that with a snap oh his fingers could make this big fella run for him and his name starts with the letter A but that’s another story.

Veronica, Amanda and I scoffed; we all know that’s not true. “Whatever stops the tears,” Amanda said and Brad rolled his eyes.

When we got out, a chilly wind blew some strands of my hair tangling them over my face, I shuddered and pushed them over my ear and I looked towards the street and I noticed that there was a guy next to the lamp post looking at us. I looked at him and I hoped that he would stop and that it was just pure coincidence that our eyes met but it wasn’t. He was under a light post that shinned the little moths that surrounded the lightbulb and, even though I couldn’t see his face very well, I could see his jaw line. What made me rush my friends to walk faster was that as he looked at me he cocked his head and that made my skin crawl. I know people can be weird and strange but I didn’t like how he looked at us. Good thing all of us had pepper spray with us, even Brad. I learned over the past few years that this is a creepy city.

But I learned over the years that I could be paranoid but better be safe than sorry. I remember that one day Veronica was mugged on broad day light. The person took her phone and iPod while showing her his gun. She told us that he tried to get her bag but she begged him not to because she had her university books and she needed them. After some seconds he ran away without taking it. After that she asked us to escort her to places. I don’t blame her. The world is a scary place.

The four of us walked towards the first bar that was four blocks away from our apartment. I was already sweating and regretting everything even though it was cold. My body is weird. We had to walk very fast because of it. The only comfort I had was that inside there was a bathroom. I closed my eyes and prayed to whatever was up there that the bathrooms were empty so that I could wipe my greasy face. There was no foundation that could stop it. I was a walking grease machine, unlike Veronica and Amanda who always look mate. Those two were perfect and sometimes I wondered why neither one had a boyfriend. Sure, they both had dates and napkins with phone numbers but nothing that would spark something for them.

I mostly understand Veronica since she was brought up in a religious and conservative family. She still didn’t dare to cut her long black silky hair. It has always been a bit over her shoulder blade. But she does a tremendous job in maintaining it. Can’t say the same for me since I could see my ashy brown roots coming out and it has always been frizzy. When the weather is nice my hair is wavy with some big curls but that’s when the heavens smile upon me every blue moon.

Veronica owns glasses—well all of us have glasses but Brad and she use them to actually see while Amanda and I use them to read or to focus but I wear them when it looks good with the outfit, like tonight.

Amanda has short hair with purple tips, her eyes cat like, almost like Laura Prepon (while Veronica’s are round and big and mine are a little droopy but I discovered that if I raise my eyebrows they look different—most of the time I would make stuff up to feel better about myself. Sometimes I look at the mirror and do it just to feel a bit secure. Brad once told me that I should do that more because they reminded him of Anne Hathaway’s. I scoffed at the comment.) Also, I’m taller than both of them; so imagine me with two slender petite women—a tall, big girl that hasn’t quite bloomed into that part of the fat community that looks awesome and beautiful—and tanner thanks to my heritage.

Our skin tone goes from me, the tannest, then Veronica, Amanda and then Brad the whitest.

As I look at them walking in front of me, I couldn’t help feel like I didn’t belong. I have always tried my best to cope and in some situations I have accepted myself but there are times—like tonight—that my mantra doesn’t work: fake it ‘till you make it. Brad walked beside me and bumped my elbow. He was in the same boat as me. Big people. But he didn’t have problem getting what he wanted. I always thought that his secret weapon was confidence but I guess good looks also come into the equation. He is so handsome that it baffles me. He would say: “If I can get guys like this, imagine how many more if I slim down.”

“What’s the matter?” he asked. “I know that you don’t like to go out most of the time but it seems that there is something else bothering you. Is it because you are not with your family on this type of holiday?”

Amanda and Veronica were busy talking and giggling about something and they had their arms linked. There was no space for me there. “I just didn’t feel like going out—didn’t feel that much pretty.” I groaned at my stupid reason. “You know same old bullshit and no, I think. I don’t know. I haven’t talked much with my mom.” I shrugged.

Brad linked his arm with mine. “I feel ya’ but tonight I will find you a cute guy.” I rolled my eyes and laughed. “I am serious!” I always loved how he said the same thing. It’s not up to him; it’s up to the guy and it always ended up the same:

1) Amanda leaves us for some boy at the bar and then tells us all about it the day after.

2) Veronica gets hit on and she comes my way to get away from the guys and sometimes girls who doesn’t seem to get the hint.

3) Brad ends up drunk and that takes up a lot of drinks.

4) And me, all alone—with Veronica.

I fluttered the ends of my dark blue dress. “Sure, if you do that I’ll buy you a shot.” I couldn’t help but to look over my shoulder. I’m so paranoid.

He beamed me a smile. “And if I don’t you still going to buy me a shot for my hard work. Mamma needs her drink!”

Amanda looked back. “What about me!?” she yelled.

Brad waved his hands in dismiss. “You don’t need help for that, honey. You are on your own.” Amanda whined. “Also, you are buying your own alcohol.” she clicked her tongue and continued her conversation with Veronica.

When we reached the bar, I told them to go inside first because I wanted to apply some lipstick. Amanda protested that she didn’t want to leave me alone outside and that there was a bathroom inside but I pushed her gently and then I lied that I had to make a quick phone call. Before she sniffed the lie, Brad grabbed her arm and pulled her inside. I didn’t realize my shoulders were tense until I was alone. From my purse I took my mirror and my red lipstick.

After I finished applying I checked my face and hair and so far it was decent—except the greasy face. When I adjusted the mirror with my hand I noticed that there was a guy standing on the other side of the road. Other “night” people walked past him without noticing him. It wouldn’t surprise me in this city but this one was different. He was tall and a bit hunched, I could notice that his shoulders were raising and falling very fast as if he was panting, and had his hands inside his hoodie jacket. What made me run into the building was that I recognized him. I didn’t notice walking in our direction or if he arrived.

The first thing that I thought when I entered was to get a drink. Sure, let me numb my body to forget an unpleasant moment. I went to the bar without looking for my friends and ordered a shot of tequila. I read in an article that tequila makes you happy and that it was proven and right now I needed one. “A shot of tequila, please.” The bartended nodded and took a little shot glass and a bottle of tequila and poured it. I took it and slammed on the counter.

“Woah! there, dude. If you treat tequila rough, it will return the favor.” I looked at the cute and familiar bartender in the eye. I had the perfect opportunity to give Amanda to talk to him but she was nowhere near. He had light brown eyes, thick lips, short curly hair and dark skin that lighted up when the bar lights hit him. The bar “uniform” was a white V neck shirt and I mentally high fived the owner of the place.

“Another, Julio.” He smiled. “Something creepy just happened.” He raised eyebrow. “A guy fallowed me and my friends, I think but don’t worry. I had worse. We can handle it.”

“It’s James. You know my name, Amelia. I don’t understand your Julio name thing.” He poured me another and I took it but this time I placed it gently. “Want me to check it out?” I shook my head.

“Don’t fight it, Julio.” He tossed the white cloth over his shoulder. “Besides, he probably left already. Anyway, put it on my tab, also, have you seen my friends?” he nodded and pointed me to the other side of the bar. There was a lot of people tonight; more woman than guys.

“By the way, there is not tab; its ladies night.” He placed his elbows on the counter.

I tapped gently my temple as if I forgotten something. “Gee! How could I forget!” we laughed and I moved towards my friends. When I looked back, James had called one of the bouncers and whispered in his ears and I noticed that his nostrils flared up and cracked his neck as if he was ready for a fight.