It may surprise you, but I like being alone. I walk alone, observe and hope to find something to believe in. I rarely find what I’m looking for.
Frigid air meets my warm cheeks when I walk out of a quiet downtown coffee shop. My ripped skinny jeans and black leather jacket are no match for this harsh winter weather. My mother always said I should dress for the season.
Look away. I thought, walking down Main St.
Glances from strangers burn my face. They are probably wondering why a 20-year-old girl would ever be out late at night without her friends.
Or maybe not.
Some looks are cold while others are concerned, but maybe I’m not crossing their minds at all. I quicken my steps and attempt to ignore my anxious thoughts. A local band is playing right down the street, so naturally, I turn down a dark back alley and find myself walking into the back door of the downtown Grand Stafford concert venue. From the dim lights to the strange smells, it’s my safe haven.
Be normal. I thought.
It takes a unique type of person to walk into these places alone, and trust me, I am only that person half the time. Although I’m easily intimidated by the strangers on the street, I wouldn’t feel any less alone with my friends.
“Uh, I.D.?” the bouncer asks.
I hesitate. “Oh… of course.” I say, finally handing over the card.
“Ten dollars and you’re in,” the bouncer assures me, “Lucky it’s a special event.”
I look around the grimy building, and then down at the X’s on the back of both my hands. My shoes stick to the concrete floor, and cigarette smoke creeps under the lenses of my glasses.
I instantly feel eyes on me.
Be cool. I thought.
I pass the bar and make my way to the right side of the stage. I purposely parade an unusual amount of confidence for an underage girl in a crowded bar without anyone to serve as a buffer.
The opening band was almost through their entire set by the time I arrived. I leaned against the rock wall.
I leaned against the back wall hoping nobody would notice my pathetic existence
As I pretend to enjoy the mediocre rock ballads being played onstage, a tall, thin guy appears in the corner of my vision. His long, dark hair is peeking out from under a charcoal colored beanie which is resting effortlessly on the back of his head. He’s the type of guy my friends would claim is my weakness, but they would never be caught dead with a guy like him.
Look away, I thought. Does he see me staring at him? Why am I so weird?
He’s moving to the beat, and I continue to take quick glances at him like I’m resisting a magnetic field repeatedly forcing my head to the side. He is so focused on the music he doesn’t even notice his phone lighting up through the pocket of his jeans. Four guys crowd around, so I quickly shift my focus to my phone and pretend I have someone to talk to.
After a painfully long 20 minutes, the openers leave the stage.
No encore.
The temporary lull of the crowd sets in, so I take a look around the room. There are people standing alone, like me. There are girls chatting nonstop with other girls, who all look exactly alike. There are guys stumbling over barstools on their way to get a refill.
Now would be a good time to disappear, I thought, I probably look like such a loser.
My thoughts race from one side of my mind to the other and fade into the distance.
“Are you guys ready to rock?” a voice boomed.
Before I could look up to see who was on the mic, they killed the lights and a drum beat demanded everyone’s attention. I let the beat travel through my body. It drowned out the crowd, and I allowed my eyes to close. The vibrations in the floor shook my body until I was one with my foundation.
“Take my love!” shouted the lead singer with muscles bigger than my head on each arm.
When the song ended, I opened my eyes. The drummer pounded the cymbal, and his beanie flew onto the stage. It was him. His hair fell perfectly over the back of his neck just as I imagined.
I wonder if he has tattoos hidden somewhere.
“Sage!”
I break out of my trance.
“Sage! Sage! Sage!”
The shouts grew closer and closer, but I didn’t move.
“I can’t believe you’re here,” Cori shouted, jumping on my back, “Actually… yes I can, you bitch.”
“Oh, hey… what are you doing here?” I asked.
“Well, Noah is outside arguing with some poor guy about the validity of his sexuality again,” Cori shouted, “But I swear I’m not here alone.”
Cori wouldn’t lower her voice, but I could tell she didn’t care to hear what I was saying anyway.
I should have known they would be here, I thought. I have a terrible habit of lying to them, but what exactly does Cori think is so wrong with being here alone?
The truth is, Cori is too much for me, and she hates to be alone. I know it is partially my fault, but I don’t have many friends here, not that I can tolerate anyway. She’s outgoing, fun and attracts a new guy every week. Nothing like me.
“This place is nasty,” Cori said with an awful expression on her face, “Let’s just get out of here.”
“Noah hasn’t even made it inside yet.” I said.
“Which is exactly why we should get out of here before he pisses anyone else off. You’re coming, right?” Cori asked.
With a beanie wearing, possibly tattooed, drummer sitting right over there, I hesitated. I turned away from Cori to see him in full focus and his cell phone shining through his pocket.
“I paid ten dollars just to get inside,” I said, “I know this isn’t your kind of place, but I think I’ll stay for the rest of this set.”
“Whatever.” Cori said. Her eyes rolled to the back of her head.
* * * * *
The last song was slow and the type of depressing that is expected coming from an emo rock band. There’s another band scheduled to perform in an hour.
Maybe I should just leave, I thought until I felt eyes on me.
The drummer is standing next to the muscular guy whose voice was familiar on the mic, but I wouldn’t know where I’d heard it. They lean inward and whisper to each other. Or maybe the big guy is the only one whispering because, before I know it, I meet the drummer’s gaze.
Look away. I thought.
It didn’t work.
He’s walking toward me.
I freeze.
“Hey, I noticed you’ve been alone all night,” he said, “I don’t usually do this, but I’m Luca.”
He reached out a shaky hand expecting mine to follow. I stood still.
Luca, I thought, good name.
“Come on,” Luca said, “Can I at least get your name?”
“Sage.” I said.
My eyes meet his, and I realize I’ve been looking at the floor since he walked over here. The crappy club music started to play, you know the kind they always play in between sets to get people to stay, and the lights brightened slightly.
“Nice set.” I said.
“Thanks!” Luca said, almost cutting me off, “I think it was one of our best shows yet.”
He has boyish expressions. His youth of mind shines through even the darkest of clothes and grimiest of venues.
“So tell me about you,” Luca asked, “Why have you been alone all night?”
“How do you know I’ve been alone all night?” I asked.
His hand meets the back of his head as he looks at the floor. “I might have noticed you a few times.”
* * * * *
Half the hour went by. Talking to Luca, I lost track of the time.
I guess I’ll stick around for the next band, I thought.
Luca is a 22-year-old college student and the youngest guy in the band. He loves music and video games and skateboarding. He spends summers in California visiting family and winters in New York City where he grew up.
“I’m having a good time with y—.” Luca tried to say before being interrupted.
“Sup guys,” big guy said, “Who wants a drink?”
“Kyle, this is Sage.” Luca said.
“Sage huh,” Kyle said, “Well does Sage want a drink?”
“I’m good actually,” I said, “But nice to meet you Kyle.”
“Come on!” Kyle said, as if to broadcast my lameness all over the room.
“Dude she said she’s good.” Luca said.
Luca seemed irritated at Kyle. Luca lost his spark the moment Kyle walked up. Kyle was forceful, and for some reason, really wanted everyone to drink. He threw his arms around both of us. I felt pressure in the pit of my stomach but tried to stay neutral.
Maybe I’ve been too uptight tonight, I thought. One drink won’t hurt, and I want to hang out with Luca.
Kyle’s arm remained draped over my shoulder.
I’m not your old pal, I thought.
“Actually, you’re right,” I said, “I’ll have one drink.”
“Let me get it for you!” Luca said smiling and glancing at the X’s on my hands.
“No no no,” Kyle said, “You talk to your girl. I’ll get you both drinks.”
Kyle left to the bar. My shoulder was too warm.
“You don’t have to drink if you don’t want to.” Luca said.
“I know,” I said, “It’s really okay. I didn’t even drive here.”
Kyle came back with two vodka sours and handed them to me and Luca. The cup was pretty with designs etched into the glass and a lime perched right on the edge. Luca had already downed half his drink before I even finished inspecting the presentation.
I don’t remember the last time I drank alcohol, I thought. I wonder what vodka sour is supposed to taste like.
I took a sip anyway, and the night progressed just as I hoped. Luca talking to me and Kyle’s armpit far away from my shoulder.
* * * * *
“So, Sage,” Luca said, “Tell me about you.”
“Well I’m 20,” I said, “I like music and photography and I come here a lot.”
“I’ll remember that the next time I have the option to come back.” Luca said.
“Good,” I said, “I’m not going anywh—.”
Suddenly I couldn’t speak. My mind switched focus onto my stomach, moving around inside and sending alerts to my brain that said I needed to get out. I felt sick, so I turned away from Luca. My judgement failed, and I stumbled right into a tall table covered with empty glasses.
I felt cold hands on my skin. The hands supported me as I defied gravity and stayed on my feet. Shouts from a male voice filled the room.
“Someone get some help!”
“She’s just too drunk, dude.”
“No, she only had one drink!”
I felt the warmth of bodies surrounding me, but all I saw were colors and lights. I heard shouts and maybe a fight.
Why can’t I see my feet? I thought. I need to get to a bathroom.
What felt like seconds went by. The world moved at 100 mph, and those cold hands never allowed my body to hit the ground.
Everything went black.
