6: Memory

Diego Ballesteros

by Diego Ballesteros

Story

If I had to pick what was the most embarrassing memory I have, I would have to pick my attempt to flirt with Names during a drunken workout session at the gym, almost four years ago. And look, I don’t promote drinking, only to the people I love, but there’s just something about getting extremely drunk at eleven p.m. and working out while listening to the most depressing music I can find that just makes me so incredibly happy. As I always say, one should abstain from drinking, but if you do it, do it with purpose. I must admit, however, that that night I had no purpose.

After downing four raspberry-flavored vodka-toned energy drinks, I placed my jacket, keys, and a box of cigarettes inside my locker. Checking my pockets, I found another box of cigarettes, and yet another one in my back pocket, which I also placed inside. Maybe it was the alcohol, but seeing those three cigarette boxes made me tear up a little.

Forty depressing and useless minutes later, during my third set of below-average-weight tricep pull-downs, I sighed loudly, almost moaning, and stared intently at the dark and empty window besides me. Suddenly, I noticed Names walking outside with our group of friends, including Kind. I thought I was seeing things at first, as I always day-dreamed about her looking as angelic as she did that night, but then I remembered they must have been returning from a bar outing I had skipped for my useless and depressing excuse of a workout.

She noticed me and waved with a big smile, doing little jumps in place. She was so happy and so energetic, shouting my name and waving her arms through the window. She looked beautiful. After waving back, both of them ran towards me, almost tripping on the gate, and screamed my name until they reached me. I dapped Kind, and Names hugged me tightly, still smiling, as she explained to me she wished I had come to the bar with them and that they all missed me. That broke my heart a little.

“I was wondering tonight at the bar,” she said, “do you have a girlfriend by chance?”

She was so drunk.

“No, but I would cheat on my wife for you,” I said with a stupid amount of confidence.

I was even drunker somehow.

She raised her eyebrows, and Kind laughed at the both of us. Names never smiled or hugged me that tightly after that warm night. I think about that conversation every day before falling asleep, and the night after Kind’s funeral was no exception. Regrets and memories of Kind and Names filled my mind, swarming my stomach like countless butterflies that defiled my insides with their constant fluttering. I wanted to cry. It was torture.

In despair, I crossed the street and walked slowly through the dark hallways of their dorm to Kind’s room, hoping he would have something fun to smoke inside. “It’s not that he needs it anymore,” I said out loud, as I slammed the door open.

Inside, I found Names scoping through his laptop, and she was crying.

© Diego Ballesteros 2024-07-12

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Novels & Stories