The Pseudo-Chronicles of Mark Huntley

In Which I Continue to Drink Too Much - 9/6/04

Monday, September 6, 2004

Continued (I did promise you):

So there it was, late night in Arlington, and everybody now wanted to migrate up to a club or bar in D.C. As I was drunk, I didn’t disagree, even though I had probably already had enough alcohol and my shoes were all wrong for dancing. At least it would be on my way home. 

I remember Dale persuading me to come along as well, and Gwendolyn wanted to spend some more time chatting— we'd sketched out the skeleton of fifteen years, but the flesh and organs were still missing. What did I like most about D.C. life? she wanted to know, I think. Where did I dream of going from here, if anywhere? She’d already imbibed plenty at this point. Even if she expected me to be coherent, I doubted she’d notice if I wasn’t.

The fifteen or so of us who made up the traveling party piled onto the Metro and somehow we must have made our way to the Dupont stop on the red line (highly convenient for yours truly!), where we disembarked and then waltzed down Connecticut to Cafe Citron. The place was already jampacked, but we squeezed inside and went up to the second floor. Everyone was dancing and stepping on each other.

I think that was when Dale announced to all of us within earshot that it was mojito time. He brought four back, having squeezed them into a square to balance them, and handed two off to Gwendolyn and me. He tried to give the third one to Prabha, but she refused. He tried to give it to Tish after that, but nobody wants to feel like an also-ran.

I was drinking mine and then Prabha wanted to dance with me and I can't remember what happened to the mojito after that— I hope it ended up somewhere safe and upright. I danced awkwardly but with the passion of the drunk. Gwendolyn joined in after a bit, but I remember her seeming hesitant, holding something back. Maybe she thought I was trying to pick her up (I wasn't), but I don't know... it's hard to figure it out now. It was like I was making her anxious, but not the way I was acting— more like it was something else about me. 

Yes, you know, I did just recall a moment that illustrates what I'm talking about. Sometime in the timeline, Will swung her into a dance and she danced with him willingly enough, but she kept throwing glances my way. Not smiling, either... that intense seriousness was back, and it gave me the heebies.

The rest of the evening exists only in patches in my memory. Dale and I had a couple vodka tonics, then Red Bull mixed with something evil. At some point we did leave Citron. It might have been four. I know it had to have been after three, because the Metro had stopped running. Only a few of us left at that point. Dale had hit the road—and not in the company of either Prabha or Tish, I was glad to see for Yasmin’s sake. I was fine to get home, myself... all I had to do was stumble east a few blocks. 

Gwendolyn and Hanna were heading in the same general direction, so they'd decided to split a cab. They were both almost as drunk as I was. I lingered with them as they waited for the cab. Maybe out of chivalry, maybe just by accident. Just before the cab arrived— this is a scene I remember with varying clarity, as if my mind might have been making bits up— Gwen took me aside. Her eyes were full grey and singlemindedly serious.

"Are you okay?" she said in a low voice.

"Yeah, I'm fine!" I said, too loudly. "I can walk home just fine."

"That's not what I mean..." she said, then stopped, looking unsure. "Listen, can I get your number? We've still got some catching up to do, huh?"

"Sure." I gave her my cell number and got hers. The cab pulled up to the curb and Hanna started to get in, then turned to Gwendolyn to see if she was getting in too.

Gwendolyn was still standing there, though, biting her lip, like she was trying to get up enough courage for her next line. Then she said— I think she said— "What do you remember about... back then?"

"Back when?" I said, confused on two levels. "What do you mean?"

She hesitated again. Behind her, Hanna said, "Are you coming?"

"When we were little.... the year before I went away to Michigan," Gwendolyn murmured. "The year when you went away. Do you remember that year?"

"What about it?" I asked. "Wait... when I went away? I never went anywhere."

"Hey!" the cabbie said inside the dark car. “Meter’s running.”

"We've gotta get going... right?" Hanna reminded her. I think Gwendolyn was weirding her out.

That broke the spell. Gwen's eyes clouded and she glanced back at Hanna. "Sorry." She turned to me. "Nothing... call me, okay? We'll have dinner or something soon." And then she was gone, and the next thing I remember is trying to brush my teeth and making a toothpaste mess and then just collapsing to sleep half-in my bathroom.

I haven't called her yet... I'm not even sure how much of the odd little conversation I think I remember is true. If so, she was confusing her memories. I never went away anyplace when I was nine. There was a Disneyworld trip when I was seven, and summer camp in the years after Gwendolyn moved away. Well, whatever. Looking back, I'm more concerned about embarrassing dance moves I may or may not have pulled off.

Time to do some relaxing tonight... it's back to the Divide grind tomorrow. Three-day weekends never last long enough.

posted by Mark Huntley @ 8:29 PM

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