"Like a flower, won’t you bloom here with me?"
"I remember the first time it happened. It was like 4 years ago, in the beginning of the summer. We were out that night, remember? We went to see the Allah-Las, they were playing in a house downtown. Well, not a house per se, it was more like a patio or something. Everyone was smoking weed; we arrived pretty stoned already.
Anyway, the second band of the night was in the middle of their set and I was in line for the bathroom. The line was going pretty slow and I was trying to keep myself focused, I was kind of fucked up already. I looked at the sky, it was dark and clean, we had a crescent moon and some stars; we could still see the stars back then, more than we can now at least.
And then I looked at the girl who was in front of me on the line. Now I can't remember her, I can't tell the color of her eyes or her hair, but in that moment, that specific moment of bliss, she was perfect. She had the perfect smile and presence and smell; she smelled like flowers, or maybe it was the night that reeked of Huele de Noche and weed and gardenia. She smiled and touched my hair. "It's so pretty", she said. "It's so long and soft, very soft". It was a compliment, of course, something a drunk girl says to another drunk girl in the line of the bathroom. That's what they say, you know? Drunk girls are the sweetest thing in the world. It happened before, in other places, someone complimented my hair or my clothes or my makeup. I had done the same before. But in that moment I couldn't say anything. I couldn't smile back. I was frozen with fear because she was gorgeous, and she was touching me (she caressed my cheek very lightly, she could've done it on purpose but I couldn't say so because it was so light, just the tip of her fingers running through the hair on my face). And she called me pretty. And all I wanted on that moment was to touch her back, and kiss her. I remember I had the impulse to follow her to the bathroom to kiss her there, and then go back outside. But then what? She would forget me, but you wouldn't. You would never forget the girl that made me look away from you, the only girl that almost made me cry because I couldn't touch her back.
That sounds like an eternity, right? But it wasn't more than 5 seconds. I looked around and just said "thanks" very quietly, and looked at my feet. When I looked up again she was already inside; I still had the impulse to knock, to ask her to let me in. But then what? What was gonna happen? What if she got mad and then I'd have to ask you to leave and you wouldn't understand? What if she was not alone? Would you fight her boyfriend because of me? Would you leave me alone to fight for her? There was no purpose for me to pursue that wish. So I just let it pass. She got out, smiled and went to the front of the crowd. There was a man waiting for her, as there was a man waiting for me. And that was it, I didn't look for her the rest of the night. I got increasingly higher and drunker so by the end of the night I had already forgotten her. But I remembered the next day. And the next. And every once in a while I think of her as the spark that could have burnt everything around me just with a touch".
"You know what? I'm happy I had this conversation with you. I'm happy we can admit that sometimes there's that spark out there, and we both feel it".
He smiled, then crushed the butt of his cigarette with his left foot.
"I know it's out there. The important thing it's not letting the spark turn into flames".
I know what he meant. I know he was trying to say: "don't go looking around for fire, you are warm here, you don't need pretty colors to engulf you". But sometimes those sparks catch on you, little embers, and they go follow you around. Tiny sparkles of light waiting for the moment to catch on and bloom.
Anyway, the second band of the night was in the middle of their set and I was in line for the bathroom. The line was going pretty slow and I was trying to keep myself focused, I was kind of fucked up already. I looked at the sky, it was dark and clean, we had a crescent moon and some stars; we could still see the stars back then, more than we can now at least.
That sounds like an eternity, right? But it wasn't more than 5 seconds. I looked around and just said "thanks" very quietly, and looked at my feet. When I looked up again she was already inside; I still had the impulse to knock, to ask her to let me in. But then what? What was gonna happen? What if she got mad and then I'd have to ask you to leave and you wouldn't understand? What if she was not alone? Would you fight her boyfriend because of me? Would you leave me alone to fight for her? There was no purpose for me to pursue that wish. So I just let it pass. She got out, smiled and went to the front of the crowd. There was a man waiting for her, as there was a man waiting for me. And that was it, I didn't look for her the rest of the night. I got increasingly higher and drunker so by the end of the night I had already forgotten her. But I remembered the next day. And the next. And every once in a while I think of her as the spark that could have burnt everything around me just with a touch".
"You know what? I'm happy I had this conversation with you. I'm happy we can admit that sometimes there's that spark out there, and we both feel it".
He smiled, then crushed the butt of his cigarette with his left foot.
"I know it's out there. The important thing it's not letting the spark turn into flames".
I know what he meant. I know he was trying to say: "don't go looking around for fire, you are warm here, you don't need pretty colors to engulf you". But sometimes those sparks catch on you, little embers, and they go follow you around. Tiny sparkles of light waiting for the moment to catch on and bloom.