Five rice rockets* stand parked together in front of the restaurant. Passing them by, I relax and laugh at how such an image had assured me I was at the correct location. It reminded me of my family get-together during New Year's. We were lost in the winding Sacramento suburbs and desperately trying to find my auntie's home when suddenly, one of us points out a house with seven SUVs parked outside.
I walk inside. The dinner was set up as a fundraiser but was doubling as a birthday celebration for Vivian. Tonight, she wasn't wearing her typical head-to-toe American Apparel outfit. Instead, she had a short black dress, heels, a tiara, and a red sash with the sparkling words "Birthday Girl" sewed on. I look around the table and everyone is dressed to the nines.
Having come immediately from lecture and the library, I was still in my gray, oversized v-neck and tattered, once-white vans sneakers. 'Out of place' wouldn't do my feelings justice. No one seemed to have passed me the 'dress cocktail' memo but I thought back -- these were guys who got fancy for McDonalds; I should've known. Truly though, I didn't mind. If I'd gone home first, I wouldn't have had the motivation to get dressed up anyway let alone drive back.
As I sat down, my mind raced around the same thoughts again, again, again. I have an assignment for that online English class due tonight. I have a patho exam tomorrow morning. And a healthcare organizations exam after. WHAT am I doing here?
But I knew. They'd been asking around about me, where I've been and how I was. I thought back to how I hadn't been to any of their meetings or get-togethers since the semester started and how happy they all were to have run into me last Friday. They asked my brother about me at the party on Saturday and asked him to tell me please, please come today. But most importantly, I knew myself: my hermetic and unreliable nature, the tendency to alienate, and my overall incompetence to being a good friend.
Vivian was one of the girls to ask for me Saturday. I stood up and gave her a hug and peck on the cheek. I miss this, I thought to myself, I really do. And with that, I left the anxiety of an English entry published before midnight for later.
(Now to study for patho...)
*rice rocket: any Japanese imported car (Toyota, Honda, Mitsubishi, Nissan etc.), self-modified to look fast or racecar-esque
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Your physical description of everyone involved was written very well. I have been put in that same situation where everyone is dressed up and you’re the only one in scrub clothes. I found it funny how you included how the birthday girl normally dresses and how you were so shocked to see her wearing a black dress with hells. I liked how you included what you were thinking about during the dinner. How you kept replaying in your mind what you had to finish before the day ended. It brought excitement to the story. You were very detailed when describing exactly what was going on. I could picture you rushing over to the dinner after a long day at school.
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