My Greatest Regret: Act III

       What am I doing?

      My reflection questioned me from the mirror. I was looking down at the running stream of water flowing out of the faucet at a maddeningly constant rate. My hair hung over my eyes, palms down on the counter, elbows bent.

       A single drop of sweat traced down my forehead, trickled down my nose, and stopped abruptly at the tip. Time slowed down as cruel gravity gently ripped the bead of perspiration away from my face. The tumbling drop collided near the drain, the point of impact between porcelain and water, a furious frenzy, splashing and turning in all directions. The sweat, warm, became the cold rush of churning water, mixing, assimilating, now nothing. Nothing.

       I promptly twisted the glass knob behind the sink until the flow of water came to a dribbling, deafening halt. I raised my head, and my own eyes glared back at me. The clumped strands of hair flopped down in front of my face, as if to protect me from myself.

       I repeated my words. What am I doing?

       Standing in a cramped, smelly gym bathroom stall. All alone. At the school dance. That’s what I was doing. Somehow, I had convinced myself that I would enjoy this dance. I brought myself with the intent to please her with my presence, and now I was just standing in a damn bathroom.

       The faint, pounding bass was barely audible through the thick walls that separated me from the unknown. Every beat brought with it a painful reminder: Ellie was out there, expecting me. That is, if she had even arrived yet. Did she care enough about me as to look for me? Did she even care about me?

       I quickly raised my right fist up to my head, then slammed it down with all of my force towards the counter - but I stopped my hand in mid-air.

       I took a long, hard look and my hand, unclenching the palm, pulsing my fingers in and out. I observed the creases, the finest details, then abruptly halted, still intently watching my hand.

       I am human, I thought, then said it out loud. “I am human.”

       A sinister smile began to stretch across my face. “I am human,” I said, louder this time, with more expression. Someone walked into the bathroom. The flimsy door separating the stall from the rest of the bathroom flung open as I pushed it.

       I nodded at myself through the mirror and exchanged awkward glances with the poor child who had just entered the bathroom. This is my stage, buddy, I thought, as I passed him by. “I am human!”

       I kicked the bathroom door open as I temporarily left the white-tile prison. Nothing would stop me now. Nothing could stop me.

       Let’s go, baby. There it was, in all of its madness. The school gym, a former outlet for athletic activities, had become a dark, booming venue of raw energy and unbridled expression. The room was alive - people morphed into the walls, and the walls became nothing, for all was dark, and all was untamed.

       The teachers, including the strict Dr. C, lined the perimeter of the dance. They all shared a look of disgust and boredom. Dr. C haughtily held her head high, unafraid to make any student feel uncomfortable at any given time. I would do my best to avoid her.

       The mass of dancing students momentarily halted to let out a collective “Oh!” as the current song’s editors had not done their best work censoring.

       I grinned to myself. This could be fun - as long as I allowed myself to believe it.
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       Sweeney and I didn’t care too much for dancing. We were sitting at a round table near the refreshments, popping M&Ms in our mouths as we faced the pulsing crowd. Naturally, people-watching was our specialty.

       I sat pensively, hand supporting chin. Dancing was primitive, even animalistic. You had to throw all thought out of the window. I found it rather ironic that we dress up in our nicest clothes to jump into a hooting, fist-pumping horde of sweaty bodies. You see, I needed a reason for everything, but dancing... hell, dancing? There was no reason. It ceased to exist once the lights went down and the beat brought out a certain amount of savagery in all who participated in the gyrating aggregation. Everyone just told me to let go - whatever that means. The only thing I was holding on to was my sanity.

       Why did I people-watch? Because I was out of my element. Try telling a fish to stop flopping around when it’s out of water. Hint: it won’t. Reasons? First, it doesn’t speak English, or any human language for that matter. Second, it won’t give in until it’s dead. Lifeless. You’d have to alter my mind to get me to dance. Thus, I people-watched.

       So I thought as I watched. Ellie wasn’t there - or at least I hadn’t seen her yet. I had not actively searched for her, either. I’d prefer that she would find me. Either way, I wasn’t quite sure what I would do once I saw her. The whole environment of a big school dance was intimidating enough. I could picture it now - Ellie, the world-stunner, garnering undivided attention from gaping onlookers, radiating the dance floor with that smile. She would strut in here, surrounded by a wall of deceit, shifting her head left and right so that everyone could appreciate her heavenly features. I could never talk with her, much less dance with her, if those circumstances were anywhere near the truth. I never even really told her that I was going. How could I expect her to even consider my presence?

       “Whatcha thinkin’ about, Braden?” Sweeney for sure wasn’t dancing - I think he came to humor my self-interest. His arms rested on his knees as he turned his head to face me, eyebrows raised inquisitively.

       “I don’t know, man.” Lying, of course.

       “You sure? You’ve been awful quiet ever since we sat down.” He suddenly pulled back his cuff to check the time. “Damn, we’ve been sitting here for almost thirty minutes!”

       “Yeah, sure.” The air that escaped my lungs seemed to bear the weight of an anvil. “Doesn’t bother me. Don’t worry about it.”

       I couldn’t bring myself to look him in the eyes.

       Sweeney’s eyes narrowed. He was clearly trying to get at something.

      “It’s about that girl, right? The one in your English class?”

       I hesitated. How did he know?

       ”Yeah,” drawing my voice out unhurriedly, “and how do you figure that?”

       “I’m your friend, Braden. I can tell. I mean - I know a bit about her.”

       I scoffed. “Yeah, like what?”

       “I don’t know. She seems like a pretty good person. She’s got a nice ass too-”

       “Shut up, Sweeney.”

       He chuckled, and avoided my hand, intending to push him off of his chair. “Is she here yet?”

       “Nope. Don’t think so.”

       “You gonna ask her to dance?”

       I lifted my arms in uncertainty. I drew in a deep breath. “Man, you know me. I don’t know, okay? We’ll see.”

       Sweeney eyed me suspiciously. “What’re you getting yourself into here, Braden? I mean, do you even know how many guys she’s been with?”

       I snapped back at him. “She’s different, Sweeney! She’s genuinely - a genuine person. I can tell - believe me this - I can tell! I - I -”

       “What is it?” Sweeney appeared surprised.
       “I really like her, man.” I settled down. “She’s not like all the others, okay? I can’t let her slip through my fingers when she’s practically in my hands!”

       Exasperated, I stood, shaking my head furiously.

       “Do what makes you happy, man.” He threw his hands up and leaned back in the chair. That’s what I liked about him most - his smug attitude, when appropriately displayed, was often amusing. His dull smile was taunting and encouraging at the same time.

       I gave him a subtle thumbs up. “Thanks.” I turned, then disappeared into the swirling herd in the dark, dark room.
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        Surely, Ellie was here now. There was no doubt about that. It was 9:36 - middle school dances don’t go past 10:00. She was somewhere, immersed in the throbbing tornado of colors and noises.

        Surely, there was something that would make her stand out even more. Actually, I had overheard her talking several days ago to her friends about the dress she would wear. I don’t recall style, nor would I even recognize it - but the color was baby blue. Unfortunately, she was not the only one who believed that baby blue would be a nice color to wear. This was getting ridiculous.

        I pushed people aside as I searched - they never noticed, or cared, for that matter. My task was more important, more dire. My eyes frantically scanned the heads of the surrounding people. No use.

        A sixth grade boy’s elbow stuck me in the ribs as he was dancing. He apologized, but at this point, no apology would suffice. I reacted sharply. “Watch it, kid.” He was wearing a baby blue tie. What an ass. I would never find her.

        A brilliant blast of blue. “Hello,” I softly whispered. I patted the shaking sixth grader along, and he ran swiftly in another direction. I had found her. She was three bodies away, partially blocked by waving arms. But she was more visible than ever. Contrary to the scenarios I played over and over in my head, she was not dancing with another guy, but with her friends. She was lost in the song, eyes closed, moving her body to the rhythm. The stories were true - she was a dancer. Nothing less, and a whole lot more. This was her element.

        I could not approach her. Protected by a wall of judging girls, she was essentially untouchable. Oh, but I longed to talk. I longed to spend some time with her. Tonight. Here. Now. Not later.

        As she was moving her head to the music, her eyes opened for just a moment, but in that split second, they shifted in my direction.

        Oh.

Undoubtedly, she had spotted me. For a fleeting fraction of a second, she locked on to my eyes.

        No.

        The music stopped. She was too beautiful, too comfortable, and I too out of place, too nervous. The DJ announced, “Attention to all students of Landrum Middle School. This song is the last we’re playing here tonight. Stairway to Heaven - classic, Led Zeppelin. Grab a partner. Let’s go.”

        I scrambled to get away, darting between the confident and desperate, through holding hands. Seemingly everyone besides myself was looking for a dance partner for this one special moment - and I, like a timid little kid, was running away from what I wanted the most.

        I made a break for the corner where the bathroom was situated. The lights spilled from that hallway, beckoning as a safe haven. Suddenly a hand shot out, in front of my pathway. I looked at its owner. It was Dr. C.

        “Is it an emergency?” I bet you anything that this demented woman had probably found out that I disliked dancing.

        “Yes. I really need to go!” I expressed my hurriedness with little jumps and a swaying body.

        “Really?” Dr. C lifted one eyebrow and folded her arms.

        “Yes! Really!” I nodded my head quickly.

        I couldn’t let Ellie see me like this. Not here. “Dr. C... listen, please. I need to use the restroom.”

        “Okay.” She shifted her weight back and gestured me to enter to bathroom. “Too bad that you’re missing your last middle school dance, though.”

        I briskly pushed the men’s bathroom door open. I could hear the DJ through the walls: “Hurry up boys and girls. We’re about to start.” Now that I was safe, I began considering the regret. It’s only once you’re out of danger that you consider what could have been different. I would never forgive myself for this. I wanted nothing more than to become closer with Ellie, but I was the only factor separating me from her. My fear to take on the unknown held me back. I would never forgive myself.

        Then, unexpectedly, I discerned a soft, concerned voice speak out from beyond the door, most likely arguing with Dr. C about denied bathroom entrance. I inched closer to the crack in the door to hear them more clearly.

        The voices were faint, but just audible enough to make out most of the conversation. “Dr. C! Please! Why won’t you tell me?”

        Pain shot through my shaking abdomen. Ellie’s voice. Undoubtedly. I glued my ear to the wall. Stairway to Heaven had just started. She was there, for she had seen me. She wanted to share that moment with me. Oh, the irony!

        “Listen, honey. We can’t have people walking in and out of here.”

        “That’s not what I asked! Have you seen a guy walk into that bathroom in the last couple of minutes?” She cared! She loved me! But here, I was scared and useless. Now I was the goat.

        I could hear the determination in Ellie’s voice. “He’s...cute, curly, dark hair, kind of long, almost to his shoulders. I mean...he has a handsome face, he’s a couple of inches taller than me... are you sure you haven’t seen him?”

        Deep inside, I was screaming. She was desperately trying to find me. I wanted to burst through the door, I wanted to proclaim, singing from my weary lungs: I love you, Ellie! I love you!

        Yet I remained, shivering in cold sorrow. She was waiting for me. She had seen me. She was interested in me. But I, forever regretful, would never be there for her when she desired it the most.

        Some irritated words were exchanged between the two. An imaginary hand constricted my throat. I would hold a grudge against myself evermore. I gathered all of my strength, and opened the door, just a crack. My heart sank down to my feet and through the floor. I could see her from behind as she walked away. The bathroom tiles began to distort as I became entirely weak.

        She was gone. I slowly closed the door as I brought myself to the ground. I could pretend I was never here, but my conscience would know. I could tell her that I never came - but the desire in her speech indicated that she saw me.

        Stairway to Heaven continued, tugging at my insides and shaming me into another dimension. It was an eternity. It was the beginning of the end.

        I forced myself up and out of the bathroom and gathered most of my sanity. I watched the dance floor move back and forth. Ellie and I would never be together - and it was all my fault. The dancer lives for the moment and the poet lives for the past. She was my muse, my inspiration. Which of us would leave this life happier? I thought in silence, and the haunting pattern of notes in Led Zeppelin’s most famous song eerily provided a background to the turning point in my life.

        All I remember is how lovely she looked as she walked away into the impenetrable abyss of darkness.