The Perfect Night

The Perfect Night

Daniel Yetman April 6, 2012

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The glass on the counter leaves a circular ring of water as it is removed from the surface. Thomas reaches into his pocket and withdraws a small handful of change. He counts it to make sure it will cover the cost of the drink before sliding it over to the bartender. She looks down, counts it and thanks him before diverting her attention to the man next to Thomas who waves for her attention.

    The first sip feels cool and refreshing and the second leaves a lingering aftertaste that Thomas has come to enjoy. He stirs the crimson drink gently with the narrow straw it came with and then picks it out and leaves it on the counter before walking away.

   He walks with a stride depicting confidence and in any other context he might be perceived as arrogant. But here, where the music plays loud and rhythmic, nobody is concerned with the way he walks. He makes his way through a crowd of people while trying to keep his glass upright and void of spilling. A short man takes a step back and bumps into him and Thomas stares him down—the man seems not to notice.

   “Thomas,” a voice calls out to him.

   “Thomas,” the voice calls again, calm.

   He turns his head slightly in both directions not wanting to appear as though he is unsure of where the exclamation is coming from. His uncertainty is erased when he is tapped on the shoulder and turns to be met with a firm handshake.

   “Where is she at?” asks the other man. His name escapes Thomas, although he begins to doubt that he ever knew it.

   “I haven’t seen her yet,” he says calmly.

   The other man says something but his words are drowned out by the rhythmic baseline surrounding them.

   Thomas eyes jump from face to face slowly trying to assess each identity and search for the one he desires to meet. He holds his drink in front of his face in an attempt to stay aloof, finding comfort knowing he can see the crowd but when they look back he’s just a blur. He leans against the edge of a barstool that seems to have been pulled away from the rest of the counter. He stands in the shadows waiting.

   And as she appears through the crowd the music seems to reach a lull, suddenly each voice can be heard. She takes two steps forward, her eyes dodging around the room but not meeting his gaze. Her feet seem to move in slow motion as each face in the room which is not hers becomes a blur. Thomas’s heart holds still in conjunction with his breath until her head turns and finally their eyes meet. The moment is so fleeting that it almost seems as though it was imaginary—time resumes and she is swallowed up by the crowd again. Thomas shivers and downs half the glass in front of him. As the crimson glass becomes clear he begins to feel more exposed with only ice protecting him.

   He turns to his right to see the other man midsentence still trying to convey his thoughts. At this moment Thomas finds him annoying although he may have the best intentions. Thomas ignores him as he drifts back towards the counter. As the bartender walks over again he raises his index and middle finger. He then leans in and whispers in the woman’s ear. She returns momentarily holding two glasses—one crimson and one shot glass. He downs the smaller of the two and tosses the straw out of the other. He walks back to his spot next to the stool where he can stand and remain fixed on the crowd. He can see her clearly now, being engulfed into the crowd then being spit out. The pattern repeats as she disappears and reappears, adding to Thomas’s delirium.

   Two girls run by bumping his arm enough to spill his drink, it splashes them but they seem not to notice. His first instinct is to say sorry but they wouldn’t hear him anyway. The man who was talking before has seemed to have disappeared leaving Thomas standing alone. He tries to act composed, leaning and taping his foot along with the music but he begins to feel as though the crowd can see through him. He looks down at himself. His outline, dressed in all black, blends into the background giving him comfort from his invisibility.

   She continues to become transposed in and out of sight, standing alone amidst the shifting waves of people. Her eyes dart around as though she is looking for somebody in particular but who that may be leaves Thomas wondering.

    “Thomas,” says the man who remains nameless as he returns. Thomas nods to acknowledge him and although he has been finding him annoying up onto this point suddenly finds himself relieved to no longer be standing alone.

   The man continues to talk but Percival’s eyes remain fixated on the dance floor. He pretends to be listening but keeps his focus on her, waiting for the perfect moment—to break out of the shadows and to let his other self take control. The man stops talking and Thomas takes one long sip from his drink, finishing it off. He forcefully places the glass back on the counter and puts his hand on the man’s shoulder.

   “Watch this,” the words are meant more for himself.

   “What’s that?” Asks the man but Percival has already began to walk away. He trudges forward with his eyes fixed on her but the crowd sweeps her up again. Undeterred, he continues to walk towards where moments before he saw her standing.

   And then, with his final steps, she returns and he is standing mere feet away from her. She turns her head and her torso follows until she is facing him. Her eyes are held open as he meets her. In one fluent motion Thomas slips his left hand behind her neck and pulls her in. The music disappears and one by one the members of the crowd fade away until they are the only two left standing. Their lips touch and Thomas holds the embrace for as long as possible before breaking away. Long after it feels as though their lips should have parted he makes sure they are still held together. His right hand remains wrapped around her waist gently as his left hand moves from her neck, across her shoulder and down her arm until he meets her hand with his. Their faces come together again—it takes a moment before Thomas realizes that she is kissing him back.

   He pulls away just far enough to look into her eyes, she looks back at him before he bows his head towards her letting their foreheads and noses touch. At first she’s confused as to what he is doing but he shifts away and moves towards her ear. He remains silent before whispering what he feels in his heart.

   “I’m so glad you are here.”

   As he pulls away she gives him a coy smile that disappears too quickly. He pulls his body away from hers while maintaining a solid grasp of both her hands. The crowd returns and the music starts again and when he can’t back any farther away from her without letting go he takes her left hand, kisses it passionately and lets go.

   “Goodbye,” he says but she has already been reabsorbed by the ever changing mob.

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