PART THREE: Chapter Three

Chapter Three:

      December 1997. Winter Ball at Rhode Island College, my senior year. I decided to go alone and just have fun. I wore a spaghetti-strapped red dress that had to be taken in because I was so skinny. I had worked hard in college and just wanted to dance and have fun before I graduated. A female friend who had recently parted ways with her husband-to-be arrived at my apartment to pick me up and brought her older brother along as her date.  She was Liberian and was very proud of it. In my opinion, part of the reason why she didn't want to stay with her husband-to-be was because he was  African-American and I would soon learn the intense hatred her family had for African Americans once I became deeply involved with them.


     He was a stranger. He was charming, well-dressed and had nice, white teeth. He was quiet as he drove his sister and me to the ball. From the backseat of the car, I watched as he and his sister calmly navigated their way through memorized directions to get us to the ball. Finally, my friend introduced us and when he spoke, his deep voice and the way he bit into his words made my toes curl. He was bad and I knew it. He smelled of badness but his mere presence was hypnotic. I had had only one boyfriend and, thanks to my father's rules and regulations while I lived at home, I had insufficient experience in regards to the entire concept of dating. When I was on my own and free to date, I was actually too busy working and going to school which is why I had that one brief summer romance. My very first kiss was in college from my first boyfriend and, although to me the kiss was magical, it paled in comparison to the experiences of  some of my peers. I was still a little girl trapped in the fairy tale world of dating and wanted nothing to do with anything other than hand-holding, hugging and an occasional romantic kiss.
     We arrived at the Winter Ball and I was eager to dance even if it meant dancing alone. A female student who was the sister of a girl with whom I worked at the college library seated herself next to my friend's brother and began chatting his ear off with a flood of questions. I temporarily lost interest and raced onto the dance floor alone as soon as the meal was over. I was there to have fun for once and that is what I did. When I returned to the table to rest my feet, I noticed my friend's brother sitting alone and I instantly felt I should involve him in the fun. I asked him to dance and he replied politely, "Wait for a slow song." I agreed and sat down for the remainder of the fast songs. I became a little annoyed when the girl who had chatted off his ear earlier, dragged him onto the floor to dance to a fast song. She was very persistent which astonished me  because, according to her sister her family forbade both of them to date guys who were not Cambodian. It was apparent that she wanted whom she wanted. I was exhausted and decided to remain seated until a slow song played for my chance to dance with Prince Charming.
     While I rested my feet that were clad in red heels that matched my red dress, I chatted up some of the other people from college whom I either had classes with or whom I recognized from campus. Suddenly, a slow song began to play and Prince Charming was no where to be found. Just as I was growing impatient, he waltzed in, stood in the middle of the floor, extended his hand and motioned for me to dance with him. It was just like something from a fairy tale. All the heads at the tables in front of me turned to look , mouths agape. On the other side of the dance floor, the girl he had danced the fast song with earlier, glared at me as I rose and seemingly floated to meet him. It seemed as if there were no one else but us on the dance floor. He wore a stunning suit that consisted of a white jacket and black pants. His cologne was intoxicating and I could feel myself sinking deeper into his eyes. I heard the word "run" in my mind but I so wanted him to like me. I had such a great need to be liked. I had a void that needed to be filled completely and I was willing to take anyone who even glanced my way despite what I knew in my heart.


     Once the night was over, the magical dance ended and I was safely back into my apartment, I felt as though I had been to the Royal Ball and actually danced with a real prince. Kicking off my shoes, I grabbed my cat and twirled around in the middle of my living room floor with him held above my head. I twirled through the dining area, down the hall and into my bedroom where I plopped onto my bed exhausted. My cat, confused, bolted back into the living room where I had initially snatched him, disturbing his nap. I dreamed of the dance repeatedly and how it felt to be held. I replayed him beckoning me onto the dance floor and smiled at all the people who turned to look at me in awe. Yes! I was someone special! I was important! It was as tough I were Cinderella at the ball. I told myself that I would call my friend tomorrow and inquire about her brother. I didn't know that my friend had intended to call me anyway and ask me what I thought of her brother.
     If only I had not been so desperate I could have avoided what would later become the scariest four years of my life. Why was I so hungry for love? Why wasn't I satisfied with just being alone and learning to love myself?