Page 51 of The Significance of Moving On

Chapter Twenty-Three

South Beach. In my wildest dreams I never thought I’d end up in South Beach—on the main strip, no less, in front of the most incredible Latin club with music spilling out onto the street. People’s hips move in time to the rhythm. It’s loud with laughter and spectacle, almost like Florida’s version of Carnival. The line for this club stretches down the city block, jam packed with hundreds of faces in sparkly costumes still not quite beautiful enough to get in.

“Hey.” Kelsey hands over a small card. “You’ll need an I.D.”

“Yadira Chakrabarti? Do I remotely look like a Yadira Chakrabarti?”

“Trust me they only care about the age. Besides, I’m Hoc Tran.”

“And they buy this?”

“Watch and see.”

All those people in line deemed not beautiful or important enough by the bouncers seem none too pleased with us for bypassing the line altogether. Kelsey walks us up to the entrance, fluffing her boobs to a nice, pert position practically spilling out of the strapless silver little number she wears, shimmering from the passing headlights of the strip.

“Hoc.” The bouncer nods at Kelsey amid the throngs of boos and hisses thrown our way for getting let in. After a quick search for my age he unhooks the rope and steps aside. “Enjoy your evening, ladies,” he says.

“Thanks Rico,” Kelsey says back to him, patting his rather large bicep as she passes.

I’ve been to clubs before on weekends from Edgewood but never anything like this. South Beach really is as beautiful as they say. Everyone looks tan and toned and ready to party.

“They really don’t care that you look nothing like Hoc Tran?”

“Not really.”

“Well how—”

“My father. He’s an investor here. Wouldn’t look good to have his underage hanging around, would it?”

“Your father owns a club on South Beach? Why didn’t I know this before?”

“He doesn’t own it, he’s an investor. Enough of that, though. I have a big surprise for you.”

What in the world could she have for me inside a club in South Beach? We walk over to the bar first. She orders something fruity whereas I walk away with a kamikaze. There’s music and people. With the amount of people it’s hard to find my bearings. Although Kelsey leads us through the throng like a boss.

And then I see them sitting there, perfectly sipping girly umbrella drinks—there are screams surprisingly heard over the beat of music—but nonetheless, “Alcatraz.”

“Pamdemonium.” I call back to her. These are ridiculous nicknames, I’ll admit, but using them just like we all had at school is like getting back a small piece of life that I’d lost.Anarchy,Alcatraz, VanKelsing,Pamdemonium—the four schoolgirls of the prepocalypse. “Anarchy.” These two were my dorm mates along with Kelsey. They shared a room, while Kels and I shared a room.

For about the first ten minutes I wish, I mean I honestly wish, that I could have Casey and be a part of the four schoolgirls of the prepocalypse again. I miss these women dearly and they’ve missed me. They let me know in no uncertain terms once I’m in it.

They’re a flurry of animated hands, talking louder, above one another and it’s just… it’s so much every time somebody asks a question or answers a question. Ann makes this kind of noise in the back of her throat that’s getting on my nerves and I realize that I’ve probably been guilty of making that same noise and it makes me want to bang my head against the table. This isn’t me any longer.

“Cody Randolph, you remember him from Curtis Prep, he was bummed you weren’t there for homecoming. He said you owed him a serious BJ from last year,” Pam is saying to me.

“Sorry my brother’s death came between Cody Randolph and his BJ.”

Three sets of eyes, yes three sets, as it appears that Kelsey doesn’t particularly care for my brand of sarcasm tonight, shoot me those death glares, the kind that seem to say, “you have tosleep sometime, Bitch.” It’s not that she’s siding with them, I can see it on her face. She just wants us to have a good time together because we haven’t in such a long time.

Her reaction makes me see how much I don’t belongwiththem anymore. I don’t belongtothem anymore. Kelsey will always be my best girlfriend, but as a group, as a group they want us how we were. And although they haven’t changed much, who I was—she doesn’t exist—she just doesn’t exist.

Everything Pam says or Ann agrees with comes off trivial. These girls really were some of my closest friends, so who am I to judge them for still being these girls, especially when I was the same way? I was the same way. The same.

Now with this lifetime’s worth of experience separating us, it’s difficult to even follow along with the conversation.

“What do you think, Al?” Pam asks and I realize just how much I wasn’t paying attention.

“I think, I think we should dance.” This answer should appease them since we are presently in a nightclub on South Beach.

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