Flashback: Three and a Half Years Ago
— "Are you serious?" I ask in disbelief, staring at Henrique, who meets my gaze with a cold, serious expression.
— "I am. So let's just end this conversation here and move on, okay?" he says.
I let out a nervous, shaky laugh.
— "You asked me to marry you!" I scream at him.
He only sighs.
— "I want to have fun, go out with my friends... and I realized I can't do that being with you, let alone married."
His coldness cuts right through me.
— "Then do whatever you want. I can't force you to stay with me. I love you, but I won't beg or plead for your affection!" I yell, not caring if the neighbors can hear. — "You want to have fun? Then go! Just go!"
I point toward the door, praying silently that he won't leave.
Please, don't go, Henrique. Don't go.
— "You seem to have a grip on reality. Goodbye, Malia," he says, and he walks out of my apartment.
I stand there, static, not knowing what to do. It's only when my legs feel weak that I collapse onto the sofa and finally allow myself to cry.
Since I moved to the big city, my life has been nothing but studying and working to support myself—one degree after another. I love learning; I always have. But because of that, I've hardly ever gone out with the friends I made along the way. I didn't have much of a social life.
I'm in my final year of Human Resources. I met Henrique in business school; we flirted constantly, but we only started dating after I graduated. Every social interaction I have involves him. Less than a month ago, he proposed. Now, he comes to me with this talk of needing to "enjoy life." I was prepared to tell my parents about our marriage this weekend, but it seems my plans have just gone down the drain.
I lie on the sofa, staring at the ceiling.
I need to have fun, too. I need to know what that feels like. I went to university, but I never experienced that side of student life. Always busy, always working, always thinking about the future while forgetting my present.
That's it.
I get up, wiping away my tears, and head to the bathroom. I take a long, relaxing hot shower. When I'm done, I dry off and apply moisturizer. I reach for a set of white lingerie I had bought to wear for Henrique. It's perfect, full of detail, and fits me flawlessly, accentuating my curves.
I look into my wardrobe, already knowing what I'm going to wear. I grab a dress my mother bought for me that I've never used. It's black and skin-tight, with a V-neck that makes my breasts look even fuller. I stare at myself in the mirror. Oh God.
I put on some lipstick and mascara—I don't really know how to do makeup, so this will have to do. I grab my bag and ID, slide into my high-heeled sandals, and leave my apartment (which is paid for by the university).
This is it. I'm going to have fun at least once in my life. I just got dumped; there's no better reason to go out on a Friday night. I check my phone for a good spot and find a nightclub not far from home. I can walk there.
I step out of the building and walk through the lively streets. In my hometown, there wouldn't be a soul outside at this hour. I keep walking until I reach the club, the name glowing neon above the entrance.
It's now or never.
After paying the cover, I enter. The music is deafening, and people are dancing and moving everywhere. I head to the bar. The bartender looks at me and smiles.
— "What can I get you?" he asks, tossing a drying cloth over his shoulder.
— "A shot of tequila," I ask for the first drink that comes to mind.
— "Coming right up," he says.
Moments later, he serves me.
I look at the small tray he brought: a shot glass, a little pile of salt, and a lime wedge. What am I supposed to do with this?
— "Never had tequila?" the bartender asks.
I shake my head.
— "Put the salt on your hand, lick it, take the shot, and then suck on the lime."
— "So, I raise my blood pressure, get drunk to destroy my liver, and then throw acid into my stomach," I say with a smirk. — "Creative."
The man laughs.
Left alone, I hesitate for a second.
Come on, girl.
I follow the steps. The drink burns all the way down; the alcohol content is strong, and I feel it hitting my entire body. I figure after about three of these, I'll get used to it.
And just as I thought, after the third shot, I stop grimacing when I swallow.
But also... after that, I barely remember how I ended up back in my apartment.