Goodbye/Hello

A friend’s farewell party was held tonight at a midtown hotel bar.

In the elevator to the lounge, I realize it’s the same midtown hotel where I was staying when I met Alberto.

Last time I was here was the morning after we met.

Last time I was here, I was rush-packing so I could return to his apartment and continue our 72-hour first date.

I’m still processing this memory when I walk into the lounge, though I’ve arranged my face as if I’m completely present.

I stay long enough to toast the man who’s trading New York for Florida but leave before the bottle service goes to everyone’s heads.

Crossing through the lobby, I ditch my I’m-completely-present face.

For 10 messy seconds, I am the girl who crossed this lobby in May 2005.

I am the girl wearing last night’s cocktail dress at 11am.

I am the morning-after-my-first-spanking-from-a-stranger.

I am the girl who doesn’t know she’ll marry this stranger in four months.

As the lobby doors open, memory cedes to reality.

In my not-cocktail dress, I head toward the subway.

And encounter a sign that keeps me in goosies all the way to the same apartment where I rushed eight years ago.