Lizzy, 29

Chapter 20

Lizzy, 29

            Driving back half-enraged, but glad that I’m always so early that I’ll likely still get there before her �" I wonder if the universe is sending me another sign, like it did yesterday when I was waiting for Lizzy, 29. I still can’t believe that song was playing when she walked in…

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            I glance at my phone. It’s a little after seven and Lizzy’s a few minutes late. No worries though. She’s cute, seems normal �" and after my last few dates, that’s all I need tonight. While I await Lizzy’s arrival, KC and JoJo’s “All My Life” echoes through the restaurant, sending my memory toppling backwards about sixteen years to the night of my senior prom, when I danced to this song with Melanie Libby. Going to prom with Melanie was a dream come true. She was beautiful in every sense of the word. She was funny, witty, sweet, intelligent. It was a perfect night filled with dancing, hotel parties, drinking, smoking weed and beautifully bad decisions. I was young and dumb, drunk and in love. and for many years, and still to an extent today, I’ve wondered if Melanie was The One who got away. I wonder what she’s doing these days…

            With the song still playing, I immediately recognize Lizzy’s face when she walks in… her hair is high and wavy like a princess, she’s wearing sparkly earrings… and a full-blown prom dress. It’s electric pink and lacy across her torso, then splashes down and outward about three feet from the waist to her feet.

Is she… wearing a corsage?

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            She was. It was dark pink  and matched her dress. It struck me as weird, but as she walked to the table, I thought about some of the clothes I own that serve as little more than a backup in case I fall behind on laundry �" ratty old tee-shirts, ripped pants, boxers with giant holes in them. Maybe she didn’t have anything else to wear. Still, the corsage was a little strange… 

    What she asked me when she sat down was normal enough.“You’re a teacher right?” 

    “Yep, ninth and tenth grade English.” 

    Her eyes lit up. I could see there were things churning in her mind - but not in a million lifetimes could I ever have guessed what she was going to ask me next. 

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    “Does your school have a prom?” She gasps. 

“Yeah. In May.” 

“Oh my god,” she shrieks, “Can we go? S**t. Am I being too forward? Sorry…. No. I’m not sorry.” She reaches out her hand, grabs hold of my arm and squeezes, “Can we go… please?”

“Yeah, sure.” My own words startle me. Why the hell did I just say that? 

“Are… you... serious?” She roars, her body immediately going into seizure-like tremors. I want to say no, take it back, tell her I was lying �" but she doesn’t give me a chance. A screeching succession of “EEEEE” sounds pours from her, echoes through the restaurant like the dolphin tank at SeaWorld.

            “Oh my god. I’m going to tell everyone. I’m so fricken excited. You have no idea. No idea. Oh my god. Oh my god,” she squeals, bouncing up and down in her seat.

            There’s no way around it - I’ve just committed a serious snafu - no, a royal f**k up, but… seeing her ecstatic reaction to the news that she’ll be accompanying me to prom, which apparently I’ve also just inadvertantly volunteered myself to chaperone, something about it warms my heart a little. It’s one night, it’s not the end of the world - and maybe I’ll get lucky and  something will come up between now and then that’ll get me out of it. 

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    In hindsight, it was a moment of weakness. I should have backed out right there. I’d said something stupid without thinking. It happens - but it wasn’t too late. The signs were all around me, staring me dead in the face. All I had to do was take it back, apologize, and go home. 

But I sat there, and what I didn’t know was that I was stepping into some real s**t with this one - digging my own grave, laying my a*s down in it, and every second that I didn’t move I was just shoveling more dirt over myself. 

 I figured the conversation would move beyond prom �" but this woman was obsessed. She started planning out matching suits and dresses, talked about getting a professional photographer, even Googled limousine companies in the area while we were sitting there. She fired a thousand questions my way about what color tie I was going to wear, what kind of cologne I like, my favorite type of flowers, if there’s a junior prom, she even asked if I could use my power to have a song dedicated to her.

Sitting there, reflecting upon the situation with what few brain cells hadn’t been immobilized, I began to ask myself: What have I done? How did this happen? What is she doing on her phone...?

“So, it’s $379 for the hotel and $495 for the limo. Do you want to give me your credit card number now, then I’ll give you cash on our next date?”

The question jolted me into a state of complete paralysis as though my entire existence had been stunned by some verbal flash grenade. I couldn’t process any of it. I felt smothered, I couldn’t breathe, thought it must be a nightmare… but I didn’t wake up. I sat there dazed. I don’t know much time passed while I sat there frozen. It might have been ten seconds or ten minutes, but it felt like eons. All I heard was buzzing until...

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“I have to use the restroom,” Lizzy says. The second she’s gone I let out a gasping breath, a lengthy “EEAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH” like I’ve just survived being buried alive. My wits begin to come back to me. I eye the door, and I know I need to get to it immediately. Just get up and go… 

… Why am I not moving? 

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While my mind had begun processing information clearly and I recognized the gravity of the situation and knew that I had to leave - whatever switch controlled my motor functioning had been disabled - damaged in the barrage. Finally movement returned to me, but it was too late. Lizzy was walking back towards me - but there was something different about her. She had something on her head. It was gold and sparkly. I asked myself, “Is she… wearing a… tiara?”

            She was. I stared across the restaurant as she walked towards me with a glimmering diadem atop her hair, as though she’s just been named prom queen in the bathroom. The obsession was too much.  It had gotten weird to the point of no return. Where did it even come from? She didn’t even have a bag with her. 

            After running out of a date for the third time in a row,  I thought about that song, that sign from the universe �" which seems to be pointing and laughing at me right now… but I’ve survived the earth parent’s vengeance, resisted the temptations of the cuckold life, avoided becoming a hit man, and dodged being named prom king.  It can’t get any stranger. 

I pull into the lot, double check to make sure I have everything, and step out into the chilly night. I cross the street and walk into Casa Nuevo, I spot Katrina right away.