Just Like in the Movies

It was supposed to be the perfect first date, just like in the movies. My first ever date should’ve been him opening doors for me, paying for my dinner, then leaving me at my front door with a kiss on the cheek at 10 PM.

I met him online. He sent me pictures of his dog and his football jersey dirtied from a game I told him to be careful in.

“Haha dw its a contact sport. there’s gonna be sum contact,” he messaged me after I expressed my worry. Why shouldn't have I believed him?

He said he was seventeen; said he took AP Chem and had an English tutor because he “wasn’t much of a writer.” We liked to joke about what it would be like when we first met, and how it was nearly impossible we hadn’t met before then. He promised he wasn’t going to murder me like everyone says the first time they meet someone online. He seemed perfect, just like in the movies.

He picked me up in a red Honda Civic and walked up to my door with a bouquet of flowers, just like in the movies. He said I looked breathtaking (though my porch light was out), opened the car door for me, and held my hand as he drove, just like in the movies. His face in the passing streetlights was strange to me, with too many lines around his mouth and eyes. He looked just like the pictures, but more rough, weathered by time. I began to worry, but I shook the thought out of my head before my overactive imagination ruined this perfect date. I looked towards the sky instead, filled with so many stars, just like in the movies.

At dinner, he took out an ID to order a glass of Merlot. When he caught my eyes going over him warily, he laughed.

“A fake from a friend. I don't normally drink, but this is a special occasion,” he whispered across the cluttered tabletop. He told me the story of the fake ID, and how all of his friends made them so they appeared old enough hold the puppies at Petco. We joked and laughed until the restaurant closed and we were the last table. “You know what,” he flags down the waiter, “We’ll take the bottle.” He paid for our dinner, just like in the movies.

A wrong turn. We’ve almost had the perfect date; he just has to take me home before 10 PM. But he took a wrong turn. A wrong turn can mean so many things. A wrong turn can ruin our perfect first date.

“Don’t worry,” he said. “Just a quick pit stop and I'll have you home before curfew, just like in the movies.” Just like in the movies. He knew. He wanted this to be perfect, too. I look at him as he turns up the radio to a love song from the 80’s. He meets my eyes and mouths the lyrics to me, just like in the movies.

When we stop, it’s at a house with a torn front porch. The yard is littered with broken children’s toys and bottles. Seeing my nervousness, he said, “My parents aren’t home right now. They took a vacation." He takes my hand and leads me to the door.

“Come on in, baby. I don’t bite.” My skin crawls. I feel like a kid in a cage backed into a corner by a dog twice my size. I go with him anyway, just like in the movies. As we walk up, I notice the front windows are smoked black and broken, shards decorating the porch below. He watches me taking in my surroundings and crushes my hand in his. In this light, he looks older than before dinner.

Inside, I sit at the dining table, almost tipping over from a wobbly leg in the chair. I want to go home. I want this date to be over. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. He grabs two crystal clear wine glasses from a cupboard with seemingly nothing else inside. Pouring the wine from the restaurant into both and carrying them to the table, a spill slips over the side of one of the glasses. The red drops seep into the off-white carpet, and I can’t help but watch them stain the fibers.

My eyes follow the carpeted path down the hallway. I need to call my mom. I want to go home. This isn’t my perfect first date. I get up to escape to the bathroom. He points to the first door on the right, lending me a smile and a kiss on the back of my hand. Slowly walking to the hallway, I notice more stains. I keep my head down, not daring to look at the mirror on the wall at the end. I don't want to see him watching me realize what I’ve walked into. I don't want him to see the fear in my eyes as I lift my sight to the end of the hallway where the stains get darker and veer into a room with no door.

A hand on the small of my back brings me out of my thought. I squeeze my eyes shut and shake as I make myself smaller in his hand. “It’s only red wine,” he says softly, a small smile creeping onto his face.

It was supposed to be the perfect first date, just like in the movies.