Breaking The Rules

When I moved away for college, I thought I was prepared for anything that was thrown my way, but spending my twentieth birthday alone in a four-star Italian restaurant wasn’t on my bingo card.

The somber instrumentals that engulfed the dining area did nothing to soothe the rollercoaster of my emotions. I tapped my fingertips against the table. My self-inflicted manicure was drab against the luxurious ivory linens. The corner of my ring finger already chipped.

From my seat in the back corner of the restaurant I glanced out the wall-length windows that overlooked the city. Without tasting the food, I could understand why Filomena’s was one of the most popular spots in New York–and why the prices were so steep.

The sun was beginning to set over the horizon, a cast of orange hues painting the city, and I was becoming more and more aware of how long I’d been sitting on my own. The plush velvet cushion no longer cradled me as comfortably as it did when I first sat down. For the tenth time in the last forty-five minutes, I attempted to rangle in the emotion waging war inside my head.

He’s probably stuck in traffic, Celeste. Relax.

I peered down towards the busy New York street. Yellow cabs as far as the eye could see. I used my one birthday wish hoping my long-term boyfriend, Miles, was in one of them.

In a poor effort to distract myself, I tore my attention from the dimming cityscape and allowed my gaze to wander towards the other patrons. The scent of something showered in parmesan cheese had me salivating as I took notice in a group of women who were celebrating. An engagement? A pregnancy? Womanhood? The mass of pain in my chest grew.

The empty chair across from me taunted me. A second glass of sparkling water stared back. There was no way he wasn’t going to show, right?

“Miss, is there anything else I can get for you this evening?”

The waitress who had brought me my mocktail earlier smiled. Her hands were folded in front of her as she took in the half-finished beverage. “Is everything to your liking?”

My lips parted only to shut again. “Yeah,” I managed, “the drink is great.”

She nodded in approval, long black ponytail dancing with the movement. “Wonderful.” The composed look she wore grew tight. There was an awkward tension as she shifted her weight from one foot to another. “I just wanted to remind you of the two hour seating window. Will your guest be joining you shortly?”

My throat bobbed as heat licked the back of my neck. I hoped the embarrassment I felt wasn’t showing like a billboard across my face. “Yup,” I chirped with a liveliness that didn’t reflect my inner turmoil. “He should be here any minute.”

“Wonderful. Can I get you anything else while you wait?”

It was times like this that I wished I hadn’t had my fake ID confiscated back in freshman year. A glass of white wine would have been heaven sent. Part of me wondered if I should say fuck it and try the request anyways. But I came to the conclusion that I had withstood enough humiliation for one night.

I mustered up a small smile. “No, thank you.”

With that I was left on my own. Again.

The moment she headed back towards the kitchen, I slouched a little in my chair. Exhaustion washed over me as I stirred my drink with the thin black straw. The one colossal ice cube clattered against the glass. Drawing in a deep breath I picked my phone off the table. The sweet face of my cat, Oliver, stared right back at me. Usually, that’s all I needed to settle my anxiety. Whether it was nerves over a performance or an exam, that fluffy orange face was a magic pill for my nervous system. But even that didn’t bring me the comfort I needed.

With a swipe of my finger I unlocked the screen, punching a string of numbers into the phone. It rang once. Twice. Then I was sent to voicemail.

Where the hell are you?

It was as if the universe was trying to put me out of my misery. The moment the question filtered through my head a text from Miles flashed across my phone screen. Withholding a breath I picked it up.

Hey babe, so sorry but this group project is taking longer than I thought it would. I’ll have to take a rain check on the b-day celebrations. I’ll see you at home.

My thumbs hovered over the keyboard, wavering. Instead of responding I locked the screen and dropped the phone back on the table with little to no grace. A couple of perplexed heads swiveled their way in my direction but I avoided the scrutiny and stared out the window.

I blinked hard and let out a shaky breath. I willed the stinging in my eyes to subside and tried not to think of the time and effort it had taken toplan my own birthday–one my boyfriend couldn’t even be bothered to show up to. Nevermind the money I had spent on the new little black dress and makeup. An amount that had eaten up a couple of paychecks from my shifts at the Red Room.

It’s fine. I’m fine.

This wasn’t the first time Miles had prioritized other things before me; like the time he missed my end of year dance performance because of a bonding retreat he was doing with cast members who were putting on a rendition ofGrease. I had gotten quite good at minimizing my expectations and ignoring my own desires to fit into the negative space of his whims.

But tonight, the hurt felt...different. Sharper.

Setting aside my pride I waved over the waitress working my section. The embarrassment edged back in and curdled in my stomach. “On second thought, would I be able to get the bill?”

Any will to celebrate had been smothered. Despite the vent over my head it was suddenly too hot in my little corner of the restaurant. I downed the rest of my drink. The clinking of silverware resounded in my ears. I needed to get out of there.

I fished a few bills out of my purse and tossed them onto the table. Twenty-four dollars was highway robbery for a drink sans alcohol, but that’s what I got for trying to be bougie on my birthday.

The heels of my stiletto stabbed into the marble as I made my way towards the elevator. If I didn’t care about drawing more attention to myself I would have sprinted; the desire to hide from the rest of the world was unbearable.

Breathe, Celeste.

Steeling my spine, I closed the distance as if I were moving on stage. I was no stranger to wearing a brave face–putting on a mask to hide from an audience. But once the elevator doors closed, just like the curtains of a stage, I was left reeling.

I slumped against the cold metal wall. There was a lump forming in my throat. I willed it to go away. Or at least wait until I was within the safety of a cab to release the waterworks. I tried to self-soothe, gripping the rail behind me. It was no big deal. Birthdays come every year.

As an ill-fated distraction I pulled out my phone from my purse as the elevator lowered me down. In a mindless habit I swiped open the first social media app I found. Checking in on what everyone else was up to while I was about to take a cab home was a messed up kind of self-inflicted punishment. But at this point I was searching for anything to take the edge off.

During my poor attempt at distraction a notification for a live video launched across my screen. If it were any other moment, or any other person, I would have ignored it. However, the live belonged to Sean–Miles’ best friend and our only other roommate.

I clicked on it, heavily considering the possibility of tagging along with him for the night instead of going home. Then maybe the time I spent on my hair and makeup wouldn’t be for not.

Sean’s gigawatt smile appeared as he held the camera above his head, a sea of bodies behind him. The heavy bass of dance music filled the elevator as I searched for any context clues about where he might be. Wherever he was I didn’t think it was a club. Maybe a house party near campus at best. I was way too overdressed for that.

I was about to swipe out when a familiar head of hair appeared on screen. It was the back of someone’s head. Slicked back dark hair that had me bringing the video closer to my face. Sean rotated to the right, the head of the mystery person out of view.

“No,” I grumbled as if he could hear me, “go back.”

Women’s intuition told me to keep watching. And so I waited, heart hammering deep within my chest as if I were sitting in front of a horror movie.

I’m just being paranoid.

There was no way Miles would stand me up for a generic house party. There was no way.

The elevator dinged to a stop. I slipped out of the open doors, eyes glued to my phone. To the elderly couple entering on the other side I probably seemed like another youth living through social media. And while I would normally take offense to such allegations, at that moment, I was.

Sean panned the camera again and I caught another glimpse of what I knew deep down was the back of Miles’ head. He had shifted now and was standing next to a couch with a red solo cup in his hand. The silver band I had bought him for our first year anniversary was snug around his finger. The way our roommate held his phone, I couldn’t make out the rest of Miles’ face, but I did see a short brunette make her way over to him.

I recognized her too. A co-star of his who he often stated was ‘like a sister’ to him. The actualization of what I was witnessing threw me into a void. It chewed me up, swallowed me whole, and then... nothing.

Numbness soon took the place of the pain I had experienced since receiving his text.

The night air slid against my clammy skin. I moved along the sidewalk, still absorbed in Sean’s live. Filomena’s was down in a district that was popular amongst the college crowd due to the surplus of bars and clubs that weren’t a million miles from campus. The thick noise pollution of the city drowned out the sound from my phone, but I continued to stare.

I continued my deadlock until the side of my body collided with a solid mass.

The apology I uttered was genuine despite how rushed it came out. I paused to peer up at the person I’d collided with. There was a stillness as I took in the espresso coloured eyes framed by the most sinful lashes I’d even seen on a man.

“You can run into me anytime.”

The deep tone in his voice held me for a moment. It was as if I had come face to face with a Twilight vampire. Everything about this man was alluring from his disheveled hair to the tattoos that peeked over the collar of his shirt.

His gaze travelled down the length of my legs before meeting my eyes again. “Where are you running off to, Legs?” It was then that I noticed the other men he was standing with. “Did you wanna grab a drink?”

It was more than clear that this man knew just how beautiful he was. Confidence oozed out of his pours as he stood there with his hands in his pockets and a wicked smile. I siphoned in another breath, taking a step back. There was no way I was about to spend my night out with a bunch of men I didn’t know.

“Sorry, I’m on my way home. Have a goodnight.” I was already on my way down the street before I got out the last word.

My pace quickened, tossing my phone into my purse as I hailed a cab. Each click of my heels echoed the pounding of my heart. Whether my assumptions about what I had seen were true or not didn’t matter. The facts were pretty clear; I had been stood up.

Insecurity wedged itself back into my chest. I wasn’t a priority. I wasn’t even worth a happy birthday text or a twelve dollar bouquet of flowers from the gas station.

But I was worth more than that.

Despite what Miles said when we got into arguments, I deserved to be loved. And if he wasn’t going to put me first, then I was going to have to be the one to do it.