One
FOURTEEN MONTHS LATER
“Do you want to dance with me?”
A television blinks in the corner of the kitchen. The Notebook is playing on low volume as I watch from the sink. It’s the scene where they dance in the middle of the street. I’ve seen this movie a dozen times. He offers his hand, helping her step off the sidewalk. There’s no one else around, only the two of them, slow dancing to the music in their own heads. I used to cringe at things like this. But these days, I like to close my eyes for a moment, imagining myself in the movie. It helps me escape from the monotony of—
“Turn that thing off.”
Mr. Antonio appears from nowhere, shouting orders at me. I’m a thousand feet above downtown Chicago, washing dishes in the hotel kitchen. Servers come in through the swinging door, tossing plates and spoons into trays that fill up beside me. It’s not where I thought I would be after graduation. I imagined myself studying film in college, hanging out with friends on the weekend. But life has a way of sidetracking everything you had planned in your head.
Another hour passes, pruning my fingers. As I’m drying the silverware, Mr. Antonio reappears in the kitchen, shouting again. “Stop standing around and get out here!” He’s the owner of the catering company I’ve been working for over the summer. It’s honestly not the worst job in the world. I wasn’t exactly picky when I was looking for work. I just needed something to get me out of the house, help save up a little extra money.
I grab a tray of food as I make my way out. When things pick up in the evening, Mr. Antonio occasionally has me serving tables. It’s nice being out of the kitchen. It makes me feel more social, even if I’m just refilling people’s glasses. Like I’m still part of a storyline, even if I’m just there in the background. It’s all I can do when everyone else I know moved away to start new chapters of their lives in college. Meanwhile, I’m stuck living in the same boring episode. I adjust my collar before stepping through the curtain that separates us from the grand ballroom.
The lights blind me for a few seconds. Then everything comes into focus. Draped walls, low-hanging chandeliers, a sea of cocktail dresses. The sound of the jazz band fills the air as I move through the crowd, a tray on one shoulder, careful not to bump into anyone. I’m staffing the dessert table, which means making sure trays are stocked and everything looks presentable. I stand beside the table, hands behind my back, watching the tiramisu go fast.
It’s a bit of an older crowd tonight, with men in suits at every corner of the room, drinking casually. But there are some around my age, too. There’s a table of college guys to my right, blazers hanging over their chairs. I noticed one of them earlier, dark blond hair with a pinstripe shirt. His sleeves are rolled up to the elbow, a silver watch shining on his wrist. As I’m admiring him, Mr. Antonio appears again.
“Stop standing around.”
“But you said to—”
“Waters.”
“Yes, sir.”
I move between tables, refilling glasses from a pitcher. The guy with blond hair is still sitting with his friends. I take my time as I slowly make my way to his table. He looks a couple years older than me, maybe a senior in college. His friends are chatting away, drinking Stella Artois. As I reach for his glass, he turns his head and says something I don’t expect.
“Nihonjin desu ka?”
I blink at him. “What?”
“Your bracelet,” he says, pointing. “I can tell it’s from Japan.”
I glance at my wrist. The red bracelet from last summer. The one Haru and I gave each other during the Star Festival. It always reminds me of that day we spent together, giving me a spark of joy from the memory I still keep with me. Sometimes I forget I’m even wearing it. “A friend gave this to me. When I visited last summer.”
“Ah. Which prefecture?”
“Tokyo.”
He leans back in his chair, nodding. “I studied abroad there. The University of Tokyo, I mean.”
“Oh, I heard that’s a good school.”
“They say it’s the Harvard of Japan,” he adds, shrugging casually. He looks at me again. “What about you?”
Normally I like to make up a story at these events. Like my dad owns the hotel and I just want to live a normal teenage life before heading back to Paris. But I decide to give an honest answer tonight. “I’m actually not in school right now,” I tell him. “Taking some time to figure things out first.”
“Like what?”
I’m about to answer this when I notice Mr. Antonio watching me like a hawk from the other side of the room.
“Sorry, I have to go.”
I offer a smile before walking off. I wish I could linger a bit longer, maybe get his name or something. But I have to refill the pitcher and get to the other tables.
* * *
The evening continues. Lights swirl along the ceiling and more champagne bottles are opened. I’m standing at the dessert table again. As I’m watching people on the dance floor, the music changes to something slow. Then the lights dim, swallowing the room in a dark blue ocean. Somehow, almost naturally, the crowd tunes itself to the piano, separating into couples, cheeks pressed against each other, slow dancing. Almost like a scene from a movie.
When it comes to music, ballads are usually my favorite. But as I stand against the wall, watching the scene unfold, a wave of loneliness falls over me. It’s a feeling that comes and goes, reminding me that even in a crowded room, I’m still alone. That no one even knows I’m here. It’s like there’s a wall between me and the rest of the world. I’m always on the outside, staring through a screen.
Suddenly I don’t feel like standing out here anymore. There’s probably some dishes to clean in the kitchen. As I turn to leave, someone bumps into me, nearly spilling his drink. “I’m sorry,” he says, touching my arm. It’s the cute blond I spoke with earlier.
“It’s alright.” I laugh awkwardly.
He smiles at me. “I was actually hoping to bump into you.”
I look at him. “Oh … really?”
He takes a sip of his drink, grinning. Then he leans forward and whispers, “I noticed you standing alone all night. I’ve been building up the courage to ask you for a dance.”
For a second, I think he’s joking. No one has ever asked me to dance before, especially while I’m working. “I’m sorry, but I can’t right now.”
“Just one dance,” he says, holding out his hand.
“I’m supposed to be working—”
“You’re not turning me down, are you?”
The timbre of his voice makes me hesitate. If we hadn’t already spoken, I probably wouldn’t entertain the idea. But there’s something about him that makes me consider the risk. Maybe if we blend into the crowd, no one will even notice. I know I shouldn’t do this. But it is my last night on the job. I glance around for Mr. Antonio before I take his hand, letting him lead me out to the middle of the room.
I’ve never danced with another guy before. He’s a little taller than me, so I’m not really sure where my hands go. He smiles at this, taking me by the side. My cheeks go warm as his arms move around me. It seems strange at first, slow dancing with someone whose name I don’t know yet. But once I relax a little, and we move in time with the music, the two of us blend seamlessly into the rest of the crowd. Suddenly, I feel like the main character of the story.
I rest my head on his shoulder, hoping the song doesn’t end. After a moment, he lifts my chin with his finger, so we’re facing each other. As he gazes into my eyes, his lips only a few inches from mine, I think we might kiss. Then he leans forward, moving his mouth to my ear. He whispers, “Are there nuts in these?”
I blink at him, confused. “What did you say?”
“I said … are there nuts in these?”
The music cuts out. I blink again and find myself back at the dessert table, leaning against the wall, where I’ve been standing for the last hour. I look around the room, disoriented for a second. The guy I was just dancing with in my head is pointing at the cannoli, a brow raised at me.
“Did you not hear me?” he says. “I’m asking if there’s nuts in these.”
I swallow air, trying not to stammer. “Oh … I don’t think so.”
Before I can say more, a girl with blond hair appears at his side, looking stunning in a yellow dress. She grabs his arm and says, “I love this song. Come dance with me.” Then she pulls him away, laughing as they both disappear into the crowd.
A familiar ache goes through me. It’s this flopping feeling in my stomach, making me wish I could disappear, too. I stand there a few minutes longer. Then I grab some empty trays and head back to the kitchen for the rest of the night.
* * *
I clock out at eleven on the dot. Mr. Antonio usually has me working till the end, helping him move things to the van. But I told him I couldn’t stay late tonight. It was only a seasonal job and summer is officially over. I’m not exactly heartbroken about this. But starting tomorrow, I’ll have to sit down and figure out the next steps of the rest of my life.
As I’m leaving the hotel, one of the cooks invites me out with the others. “It’s your last night with us, kid,” he says.
“Would love to, but it’s my friend’s birthday,” I say.
“Thought you said it’s tomorrow?”
“Yeah, but we always stay up till midnight together.”
It’s a tradition between me and Daniel. We started it a few years ago when we each turned sixteen. It’s always just the two of us, sitting around in our rooms, sharing some pizza, waiting for the clock to change like New Year’s Eve. But it’s already 11:15 p.m. and I need to get back in time. It’s a quiet train ride home. I look through photos of us on my phone to pass the time. Some of my favorites are the ones from our trip to Japan.
I glance at my bracelet again. Haru. It’s been over a year since we spent our perfect day together. I still think about him every now and then, wondering what could have been if I had stayed. I wonder if he ever thinks about me, too.
I get home at a quarter till midnight. Daniel and I are meeting on the rooftop again. I don’t want to wake my parents, so I use the ladder we keep at the side of the house. I make my way up and find Daniel already waiting for me. He has the blanket laid out for us. A tea candle flickers inside a mason jar beside it. The moment he sees me coming up, he throws his arms around me and says, “Where the hell have you been?”
“I left as soon as I could.”
“You’re lucky it’s not midnight yet.”
“You know I wouldn’t miss it.”
“Did you get it for me?”
I frown at him. He’s talking about the cupcake from Lily’s, a local bakery in the Loop. I make sure to get him his favorite flavor every year. Chocolate coconut, with a caramel crème filling. “Sorry, but the place closed before I could get there.”
His eyes flicker with disappointment. But he smiles anyway and says, “That’s okay. All that matters is you’re here.”
11:43 p.m.
We sit on the blanket together, sharing some hors d’oeuvres I swiped from work on the way out. It’s one of the few perks I’m gonna miss about the job. Then Daniel lies down, resting his hands behind his head, staring up at the sky. I lie right beside him, moving my hands behind my head, too. There’s no one else I’d rather be with tonight. But I can’t shake this strange feeling in my chest. That something about tonight isn’t quite the same.
Daniel turns his head. “Is something wrong?”
“No,” I say.
“Are you sure? You can tell me.”
I take a moment to answer this. “I guess I was thinking about when we were up here last year. Some of the things we talked about.”
“You mean, our plans to leave Chicago?”
I nod. “Yeah. Here we are, lying in the exact same spot.”
“Why didn’t you just go without me?”
His words surprise me. “I wasn’t gonna leave you here.”
A silence passes between us. I glance at the time on my phone. 11:54 p.m. I push myself up, grabbing a small box from my bag. “I have a surprise for you.” I hand it to him.
Daniel looks at the box suspiciously. Then he opens it. Inside is the chocolate cupcake from Lily’s. His eyes go wide. “You liar.”
“It tastes better this way,” I say with a smirk.
“You mean, with deceit?”
We can’t stop laughing. I place a small candle on top of the cupcake and light it for him. Daniel looks at me, a beautiful smile on his face. For a moment, there’s no one but us in the entire world. Everything else is a simulation. “You and I are the only thing that’s real,” he once told me. I check the time again. 11:58 p.m.
“Two minutes until your birthday.”
We lie back down again, a little closer this time. The birthday candle flickers between us, casting some shadows on the blanket. I wish I could stop the clock from moving. So we could stay up here for as long as we want. But I know it’s too late for us. A breeze rolls across the rooftop, reminding me this is coming to an end soon. I don’t want to lose him again. I want to keep him with me forever.
“I miss you,” I whisper.
Copyright © 2024 by Dustin Thao
