Memory Documentation

chapter eight | documenting the phases of a dance

Was a cute boy really asking me to a dance? And not just any cute boy, but Chris?

I was speechless, frozen to the spot as if the frigid temperature outside rooted me there. Then, Chris pulled something from behind his back and pressed it against the window. In his hands was a navy blue, hard covered journal with floating golden leaf detailing on the right-hand side. It was a lot lovelier than the spare purple composition book I was planning to use for journaling.

Three weeks later, however, and the journal's papers remained blank (besides all the eraser marks). I didn't know what was stopping me. Besides actually writing in it, I've touched it every night. Flipping through the pages, tracing the golden detailing, tapping my nails against its hard cover like its ASMR.

I'm being ridiculous, I know. The whole point of the journal was to document everything so that I would never forget, but I think I've been holding out for something special for my first ever entry.

"Maybe tonight," I wondered aloud, then cocked my head at the idea. Tonight... Yeah, tonight! Wouldn't tonight be the best way to start? After all, Chris's punchline for the proposal was that we would document this night together. If this wasn't fitting enough for my indecisive ass, then I don't know what was.

I was brought to my front door by fervent knocking. London stood on the other side. The smile she wore grew even wider, more devilish, at the reluctant groan that escaped my lips at the sight of her. It's not like I forgot this was going to happen, but I was almost hoping she'd forget.

How silly of me, I thought as I grabbed the set of keys from the hook besides the front door. "Let's get it over with," I told her, brushing past her and into her apartment. She caught up quickly, taking hold of my arm with a mix of a giggle and faux maniacal laugh.

London was among the crowd within the café when Chris asked me to the dance and, upon me saying yes to Chris's proposal, was insistent that she help "pretty me up" for my "big night." I was both thankful and regretful in extending a yes to her. Thankful in that, yes, I did need help getting ready for the dance. With my history of going to a social school event being a big fat zero and my schema of how to get ready for a school dance all based off of TV shows and movies, I was glad for a realistic guidance. Regretful was probably too harsh of a word to describe how I felt. Nervous? Unsure?

London always said that one day she was going to do my makeup the way she did it. The thing is, "the way she does it," is the full glam of a talented beauty guru you'd watch on Youtube. Don't get me wrong, I love and admire London's skills. Often, I'll come by in the mornings to chat and watch her do her makeup.

I did want London to do my makeup for tonight, except I really just wanted us to have this time together (almost like sister bonding), but I was almost afraid as to how heavy handed she was going to be despite what I say. That worry was written on my face, and I could see how evident that worry was as I took a seat in front of the vanity inside her bedroom. Building this vanity was actually the first real bonding experience London and I had when Papa and I first moved in. Upon seeing it arrive at her door, Papa offered me to help her build it. By that time, we already hosted a few dinners with London at our place, so I (still nervously) agreed. We fussed over not wanting to read the directions, then regretted our decision later as we inevitably screwed up. Nails were missing, things were dropped on toes and fingers. Papa found us later leaning against London's bed with an unfinished vanity, parts strewn about, and a box of pizza between us. He finished it for her.

The once clean, white wood was now covered in powder fallout. Two cups of different sized brushes and an organizer of numerous eyeshadow palettes sat on top. Beneath were three drawers filled with highlighters, blushes, lipsticks, and who knows what other makeup products. It seems like new ones come out all the time.