Memories

I first met her in a drunken stupor. Lord knows if I even remember anything that night, besides the way she caught my attention. It’s clear that my memories are dark yet the moment I laid eyes on her it seems like a vivid dream. Somehow I remember her smile which only surfaced in reaction to my cocky smirk. 

“Who are you?” She demanded.

“It’s my birthday and you’re in my friends car.” She elaborated.

I don’t know who you are or how I ended up here lady, but I’ll tell you one thing, you can’t look at me like that and expect me to just disappear. 

The vodka did most of the talking for me that night. 

It’s true what she said... I was in some stranger’s car staring into the eyes of an angel and I had no idea how I ended up there. The last thing I remember is grabbing some guy by the neck in the bar and shortly after larger man carrying me away. Security? Maybe. 

I have flashes from that night that come and go during my daily life. Somehow, some random stranger just looked me in the eye and said, “I know you. I know all your shit and I’m not impressed.”

And it killed my ego.

She didn’t give me that look that so many do, the ones who want your money or out just looking for something to talk about the next day with the girls. No, she was actually offended that it was her birthday and I was sitting beside her in her friends car. 

And she looked at me and said, “Who the fuck are you?”

I had no alternative in my response but to say, “I’m your future boyfriend.”

Even though I had consumed enough alcohol to tranquillize livestock, in some strange twist of fate I remember that moment. As fleeting as it is and no matter how far I drift from her, I will always remember that split second as the words emanated from my mouth and an overpowering smile forced her stubborn glare to fade. It was then, in that faded recollection, that I knew she was special.

We continued tossing insults around for a few minutes. As the driver pulled the car over what happened around us was lost. We were in our own world. One by one the occupants of the car left. They went into a late night restaurant looking to sop up the alcohol with greasy food. Minutes went by before we had even realized we were alone.

Then suddenly...

She looked at me and said, “Where the hell is everyone?”

“Who cares?” I jested.

It didn’t really matter did it? As long as we were together. 

Her independent, furious personality took over as I’m sure it had many times before. She grabbed my arm and dragged me out of the car. 

“Okay, we don’t need them anyway. I’m hungry!” She exclaimed.

She pulled me along the sidewalk as if we knew where we were going. 

“Let me check my phone and I’ll find your friends...”

“No.” She interjected. “You wanted to talk to me, so now here’s your chance. Feed me, anyplace but where my friends are.”

"I thought you didn't know any of my friends?" She added quickly before I could strike up the next bit of chatter. 

"Well, I do." I admitted. 

I wasn't sure to be honest. I know who I went to the bar with, and the rest was pretty vague. I figured she must have been friends with Christina, the girl in accounting who invited me out that night. She mentioned a bunch of her university friends would be there. I thought about elaborating, explaining it all to her, but we finally passed somewhere to eat walking in the bitter cold.

A greasy spoon's doors opened and we were safe from the tundra. 

"You want to know something?" She said while I dragged my chair across a filthy floor. "I hate people who lie."

And it dawned on me she might not be that one girl we all look for. I realized it was possible she was a complete idiot. Not even asking another question, just assuming I was a lier. She was smarter than that.

"All people lie." I exclaimed. "In fact, when determining who might be a lier it's best to find the first person claiming they aren't. Simply because they probably told a lie in making that statement."

She didn't speak, instead, flipped the menu shut and asked me what I was ordering. She doesn't like it when people take long to order food and made her feelings clear to the entire restaurant. Yelling in satirical fashion can always put a smile on someone's face but if you're not in on the gag, it seems dread is the most popular reaction.

When the looks of fear and shock subsided over the customers around us, I realized how funny this memory would be in the future. And every I look back on it I can't help but smile, laugh a little until the tears well up and I remind myself I'm a man. 

I don't cry.

"I hate hypocrites." I declared, and two ice teas from our server's hand vibrated off the cork-board tables. 

"Hypocrites?" She mused. 

"Yes, the kind of people who might say they hate a lier, but everyone lies, so..."

A french fry bounced off the wall and clipped the side of my face. Glares from the patrons began to resurface.

"Bank shot!" She shouted. Her hands out in the air like a basketball player with the winning basket.

It's been five years since that night and I still haven't got her out of my head. Jessica Julie. She never told me her last name, I only made it to the first and the middle. We played a dozen mind games before she would even give those up. I failed at getting the last name. Probably the only chance I ever had of tracking her down in the future. Now I just scratch "JJ" into park benches now and again, hoping the next time my JJ might see it. Then wait for me. 

Sometimes you know when you meet that special someone.

You know it in your mind, your body, and you are reminded by the feeling in your environment. When you can be in the dirtiest places on Earth but they seem palatial. When the simplest observations will bring you back to that moment. The moment when you were sitting in a car, staring at a stranger not sure how you got there in the first place. Or perhaps in the back of your head you did know but you were too awestruck by beauty to remember.

But the people that we are meant to be with, sometimes they are never meant to be with us. Because of little personality quarks or it's environmental too like when an ocean can rip apart two people and plop them on other sides of the Earth. Often it's something so odd, like a person who hates liers and another that hates hypocrites. Principals I think they call that.

For us, it was the fact that I tried to lie to figure out her last name. It was all in good fun of course, I didn't really care. To me no more sinister than her french fry bank shot. The real deal breaker though, was that the night we met, her friend was wearing a tiara. No birthdays were being celebrated, only a wedding. 

Some lucky friend of hers didn't have the hang ups we did. 

For me, I take comfort in my memory of a greasy potato hitting me in the face. A memory I've played over and over for five years. One that I will continue to run in the replay theatre in my head. 

I don't have that special person to wake up next to, but I'll always have the thought of her.

The thought of a beautiful hypocrite.