Memory Documentation

chapter eight | documenting the phases of a dance

I turned to look at him, but when I did, I was faced with Chris holding up his phone with his front-facing camera catching my quizzical look. He stuck his tongue out.

I laughed. "What are you doing?"

"No hate on your friend, but those pictures were staged and uncomfortable." His arm wrapped around my waist and pulled me closer to his side. "Let's take some casual ones," he said, sticking his tongue out once more, this time directing it towards my face.

"Excuse me, you snuck in those bunny ears at the last moment!" Still, I stuck my tongue out as well.

Now in addition to the typical corsage and boutonniere pinning, hand on chest, smile in front of the mantel pictures, we now had selfies full of scrunched faces, jutting tongues, and double chins. I liked them a lot.

With phase one and two complete, we were off to stage three, which was pre-dance dinner. This phase, I was the most nervous about. In all the days that Chris and I have been hanging out, I have yet to properly meet his friends. I wimped out each time he offered to have them come over to the café or invited me to eat lunch with them in the cafeteria. I often still eat lunch with Mrs. Ichikawa.

Now, there was no escaping it. We were at the Japanese restaurant in no time. I took hold of Chris's arm as he explained to the lady at the front desk that our friends were already here. Then I heard the loud scrape of a chair as a boy with tan skin and short black hair stand and wave his arms, looking straight at us.

"There you are!" I flinched at the volume of his voice; it was like a disturbance rippling through the serene restaurant that was lit with warm, dim lanterns and ambient music playing through the speakers.

"It's about time, man!" said another boy, who looked a lot similar to the first person that spoke. Brothers? "You took fuckin' forever!"

"Oh, lay off. I had a date to pick up, which –" Chris extended a hand to me and gently guided me in front of him, like a parent coaxing a frightened child hiding behind their stature – "here she is. Guys, this is Darcy."

There was a resounding hello from around the table. I held my breath as I waved.

"Darce, this is Cooper, Bryson, Marissa, and Philip." As Chris pointed to each person, I tried to commit their face and name to memory. Don't forget, don't forget.

"Ah, so this is the girl we've heard about," said Bryson, the loud one. "Nice to meet you."

"It's nice to meet you guys, too," I replied. Looks like Chris was the odd one out with his bowtie.

"Maybe the party can finally start now that you guys are here. To be honest, I'm not sure if tonight will be very fun, but at least we can eat some good food before we go," Cooper, Bryson's maybe brother, said.

Chris' expression dimmed. "Seriously? Man, you guys were the one who hyped it up to me in the first place and now you're putting it down?"

"I told you, it's senior year! We've got to experience everything we can before graduation. The countdown's already begun."

I had to say, I agreed with Cooper's thinking. Days will come and go, and it's all just a countdown. Walking through the same halls you've walked in for years. Seeing the same people you've seen almost every day. In the end, everyone takes home the same diploma, but everyone leaves with their own unique memories.

I wanted tonight to be something Chris can think back on with the same small, fond smile he does every time he recalls something nice from the past. For him, for me, and for his friends, too, I wanted this experience to be a good one.