Pieces of the Night: Mara

The phone's silence was torment. It wasn't ringing, and it hadn't since around 11. Now it was coming up on 5. She shouldn't have skipped work, but she had to. He was just too entrancing...too...something. She couldn't explain it. Mara paced back and forth, chewing the nails on her left hand the same as she did since second grade. She actually remembered the birth of the nervous habit. Of course, it was the result of a male.

Mara was seven, and it was Valentine's day. All dolled up in her favorite white dress with a purse full of store-bought Care Bear valentines and a matching bag of heart shaped red, white and pink lollipops. Standard, really. The night before she'd spent an hour in her room writing out all the names from the list her teacher had provided. It was easy: write, lick, & seal. She kind of liked the taste of the envelopes too.

Yet there was one valentine among the class that took about an hour of time by itself. It was for a boy named Chris. He was a rambunctious little seven year old, but he had blue eyes and blonde hair that just made her melt when he'd smile. He'd picked her to be on his team for dodge ball during P.E. Throughout the game he protected her, and even was pronounced out on her account. It made her feel so special.

She constructed it with care, red and pink construction paper, lace, and glitter on the inside. Mara drew hearts all around the outside, and on the inside in her best penmanship possible, wrote "I Like You," with a heart and her name. When she was sealing the envelope, she was shaking a bit. She'd never done something like this for a boy before. While sealing the envelope, her left hand was victim to a light paper cut underneath her left ring finger. It didn't hurt, but it did giver her a start. The next day the cut began to itch, prompting her to chew at the problem.

After a long day of listening to Ms. Harris talk about the day's lessons and staring at Chris' valentine in her desk, she began to have second thoughts. His was completely unlike all of the others...he would have to know she liked him. What if he didn't like her back? What if he laughed? She was horrified. But the time had come, and the delivery of all the classes valentines was underway. Mara stood up from her desk, grabbed the purse and candy bag, and made a bee-line for Chris' desk. He was giving out his as well, not paying attention to anyone. She quickly dropped the valentine in his bag and continued handing out the others.

When the commotion of the thirty second graders had settled and everyone was eating their candy and reading, she was petrified. She was a shy little girl to begin with...this was just too intense. She sat in the corner by herself, just behind the bookshelf. She'd found a spot where she could just peer around the corner to see Chris' reaction. She waited, eyes glued to the little boy, when finally her valentine was brought from the bag. He opened it, spilling the glitter all over him. She giggled at the effect, it was exactly what she wanted. And then he read it.

His expression turned into a twisted look of fear, and his face crimson. Her fingernail pestered her with a bit of pain and she began to chew, nervously... her eyes as dinner plates following the boy's reaction. He glanced around the classroom, narrowly missing her as she darted back behind the bookshelf.

She didn't even try to catch a glimpse of what was happening after that. It was all she could do not to cry...he hated it! With that the bell rang, and she sat hidden behind the bookshelf as her classmates gathered their things and went home. When it was almost silent, and Chris was for sure gone, she emerged cautiously, like a deer from the woods on the side of a highway. Her heart sank to floor and broke when she saw what he'd done. There was the poor special valentine, crumpled into a ball under her desk. She lost it right there, and began to sob uncontrollably. In a desperate dash for the door she ran, leaving her back pack and books at her seat...just running, sobbing...all the way home.

Of course looking back on the traumatizing incident, Mara realized that little boys don't react to love and affection from little girls the way anyone would like...especially the girl from where the feelings are coming from. But it was scarring. There was always that doubt...that question of why? Am I that hideous? Are my teeth that big? What is it?

And now, because of Ben, the self doubt was growing... strangling her self image. Not that it should have, she was a brilliant young woman. Just 22, she had a worldly knowledge that was lost on most men, obtained from incessant studying during high school and now in college. She had fine tastes, and although not as financially secure as she would have liked to be, she managed to eek by. She was classy, and didn't easily succumb to the ploys of the boys that were typical in her city. Not to mention the fact that her beauty was as immense as it was natural - not the result of hours in the bathroom in front of a mirror. She was just unseen by most because she didn't advertise.

What she had thought originally when she'd seen the dashing man at the club was nothing at all. He looked just like every other guy there: spiked hair, slacks, a nice shirt. He did have a nice body though. She was with three of her friends from her psychology class but felt completely out of place. She'd done ballroom dancing in her first year of college as kind of a hobby, but here people danced like they were having sex right on the floor in front of everyone. Some of the dancers were really good at it too. She was thankful for the smoke and colored lights in the club, because she could feel herself blushing under the light. She felt so stupid standing there in her halter top, fidgeting with her fingers. Mara had no idea that most of the guys were checking her out that were around her. As her friends threw their hands into the air and walked with the beat onto the crowded floor, she slipped away from them into the safety of an upstairs corner on the balcony overlooking the club after ordering a Long Island.

After about twenty five minutes of stirring the ice cubes around in her glass, the tall blonde stranger with the nice body approached her.

"I've been looking all over for you!" He said. He was cute, undoubtedly...had straight teeth, little dimples.

"Why?" The first thing that came to mind...so stupid, she thought.

"I saw you come in, I wanted to introduce myself...I'm Ben." The bass from the stereo was so intrusive she could barely hear him.

"Mara."

With that he took a seat, and over the course of the next hour they talked over a couple more drinks. He was a funny guy, although just 21, and unusually smart for someone as attractive as he was. Ben could keep up with her in talks about Pre-Raphaelite paintings and actually had input into the argument of Freud's theories- agreeing with the Oedipal syndrome, unusual for a man his age as well. Finally, he asked her to dance.

On the dance floor, they had such an amazing time. She'd never felt that connected to a man before in such an atmosphere. Their bodies moving in tandem to the thumping bass, the Dionysian glow of the smoky club. He reeked of alcohol and cologne though, which was kind of a turn off...but his eyes were shut. He wasn't trying to steal a peek down her shirt, he was just feeling her move with him. What she didn't know was the fact he was completely hammered, and also feeling the tail end of an ecstasy trip. If he did open his eyes while they were moving, he would have spewed the evening's beverages all over her. It was all he could do to just grit his teeth and hold on.

Soon the song was over, and she lead him off of the dance floor.

"Can you wait here for like ten minutes?" Ben asked, pointing towards the bathroom. "I need to go take a break for a second." Mara giggled slightly.

"Will you be back?" she asked through a smile.

"I promise." He squeezed her hand as he turned, disappearing into the crowd. Mara spotted her friends sitting at a table by themselves and went to join them, glowing all the way back.

Ben pushed and forced himself through the crowd, the room spinning in all directions. The conversations around him bled into one jumbled mass of sound that pulsated in his head. Now he was just going on instinct...he had to keep moving...throwing up in a crowded club...no, not him. At last he could make out the men's room sign and stumbled in, making it to the toilet as his stomach declared that the alcohol had overstayed its welcome. Over and over again he puked, disregarding inquiries from the people outside his stall as to his well-being. "I'm ok, just need to recharge for a second..." he kept saying. Finally, nothing else was coming out and the spinning toilet bowl was stationary. He was sweating worse than on the dance floor though, and the front of his shirt was soaked. He stood up, getting his thoughts in order and leaning against the stall door. The bathroom now was saturated with the stench of vomit, and his mouth was the source. He left the stall, and staggered to the sink. Splashing water on his face, he reached for a paper towel and wiped away the mess. He was still drunk, no doubt, but now he could see straight. He was back in the game and had the night's conquest determined. He took an Altoid from his pocket, popped it in and gargled it with some sink water. Spitting it out he put in some gum, fixed his hair and walked out the door, leaving the mess for whomever was unfortunate enough to choose that stall next.

Mara was undoubtedly enjoying herself, reveling in the questions and comment of her college friends. They had seen the two of them on the floor, dancing close and holding hands as they left. Her heart was racing at all the questions, but the alcohol made her enjoy the attention that much more. Yet it had been almost 20 minutes, and there was still no sign of Ben anywhere. The girls she was with were good company, but she wanted to know more about the man that was the talk of the night. He couldn't be one of those too-good-to-true guys the girls had mentioned on the car ride over. She began to scour the strangers filtering out of the club, but no sign of him anywhere. Fighting against her nature, Mara entered the thinning crowd of clones once more to beckon chance again and see if Ben had somehow been on his way to find her. Within 15 steps, she met his eyes when she crested the stairs to the dance floor.

She stared at him for a moment, unsure of what words to put forth, simply smiling. Ben's face expressed fabricated exhilaration, however much convincing, he still played the meeting cool. Asking casually her state, he offered an escape from the club.

* *

Now it was half past 5 and still no word. She'd put her hair up into a kind of frazzled bun behind her head, twisting the straw from her boxed juice around her finger. This couldn't be another mislead attempt at intimacy, could it? What is wrong with me? Mara curled up on her sofa, resting her hands on her knees as she began to cry.