Memory Lane

Honk! Honk!

“Get out of the way!” a stranger’s yell echoed up from a distance.

A long serpentine of iridescent vehicles dotted the freeway down below, reflecting the last remnants of the vanishing sun’s brilliance into Lizzie’s eyes as it disappeared beyond the horizon.

The glare on the window lit up the dark room she stood in, illuminating the sparse belongings and lone bed against the wall, covers left undone and draping half across the floor. Silence wrapped the darkness, the only sound coming from outside the window, a parade of the world’s nonchalance at her devastation.

Raising a single sheet of paper into the light, the words typed across the sheet dimmed as her eyes shimmered with unwanted tears. Holding a breath in to recapture her composure, she stepped back from the window, cowering away into the shadows to hide her vulnerability.

“I need a drink,” Lizzie spoke out into the empty room, heading to a hidden corner where a tall mahogany redesigned armoire stood, an elegant and graceful craftsmanship she’d purchased years ago with a little prompting from a close friend.

Cracking the two doors open, an assemblage of shelves held bottles of liquor and a criss-cross pattern enriched the elegant structure with large bottles of wine held within. Small delicate glassware lined the shelf doors and above her head long stems of glassware hung up by thin partitioned strips of decorated wood.

Lizzie grabbed a large wine glass from above her head, using the step stool placed in front of the armoire solely for this purpose to reach the hanging crystal glass. Skimming through her broad selection of wine, a bottle of Merlot stopped her in the midst of selecting a random bottle.

Brushing the tips of her fingers against the cork, she remained hesitant for a moment before pulling the bottle gently from its confines. She settled in a wooden chair worn out by time with etchings marred into the wood by its previous owners. The lacquer had long disintegrated and Lizzie had never gotten around to restoring the antique to its original design of antiquity.

Uncorking the bottle, the sweet enticing aroma of the wine pervaded her sense of smell, granting her a small moment of respite from the somber message that had darkened her thoughts and invaded her heart.

The scarlet liquid glided through the neck, cascading down the closure and entered the wine glass, smoothly coating the bottom of the crystal glass with the same shade. Lizzie lifted the glass to her bare lips, sipping a taste of the delectable fragrant contents of this most precious wine.

Her eyes glossed over as her tongue savored the evocative wine splashing across her taste buds. Memories of a time beyond this beaten path began filtering over her mind’s eye, diminishing her current sight of a darkening room with streams of sunlight fading exponentially through her opened window.

***10 Years Ago***

“Lizzie!”

Lizzie turned around in mid-walk, the exuberant calls of her best friend giving her pause. His voice held a peculiar awkwardness, a strange lilt in the way he pronounced her name.

Michael crossed the threshold of the building’s entrance, the light filtering through the glass encasing the tall building, casting its luminescence on her best friend’s lanky figure and tousled brown curls covering his forehead.

“You made it! I didn’t think you’d come... I know extravagant places are not your thing, so I thought for sure you wouldn’t come,” he clumsily expressed between shallow breaths, bent at the knees to catch his breath.

“Of course, I came, silly. I wouldn’t let down my best friend. I promised I’d come, so why wouldn’t I?” Lizzie stated matter-of-factly.

Michael nodded, an odd facial response minutely passing across his features, before disappearing altogether. Scrunching her brows, Lizzie waved her arms in the direction of the elegant restaurant reserved for their friendaversary. Fifteen years of friendship, from grade school to university, they’d remain close companions, confiding in each other about everything.

Escorted to their seats, Lizzie inspected the menu’s long list of options, written in a perplexing language of obscured scripture. Peeking up at Michael from behind the menu, Lizzie smiled at her friend’s unabashed appearance, dressed in attire too fancy for her taste, but perfect for the ostentatious atmosphere of the restaurant.

A waiter dressed in the restaurant’s uniform walked towards their table, stopping when he reached Michael’s side with a courteous smile carved onto his face.

“Good day, sir! Welcome to our establishment. I hope you will find our service to your satisfaction. May I provide you and your lady friend a refreshment? We have a great selection of wines. Or perhaps, a non-alcoholic beverage?” the young gentleman politely offered.

“What say you, my most gracious lady?” Michael imitated the gentleman’s bearing, the telltale signs of a smile being suppressed as the corner of his lips slightly lifted up.

“Hmm, what is the establishment’s most recommended wine, my good sir?” Lizzie voiced aloud in her most serious tone, repressing the laughter Michael was inducing at her expense. “My friend and I are celebrating our friendship through grade school, and reached a compromise to share our first experience of a grand date with everything that it entails.”

“What a magnificent occasion! If you don’t object, I shall select a wine perfect for this momentous commemoration,” the waiter announced, awaiting Lizzie’s consent to his proposal.

Glancing up at Michael, a large smile lit up his features compelling Lizzie to smile back in response. She turned to the patient waiter and nodded her acceptance.

“That would be lovely, kind sir! As it is, I am quite lost in selecting my main course. I do not speak nor read the language scrawled upon this menu, and if I may presume, neither does my friend,” she glimpsed over at Michael, the nod of his head giving confirmation to her statement.

“My apologies, ma’am! I shall remedy this at once. If I may suggest, I can make a recommendation based on your preferences in cuisines. Do you prefer Italian, French, or Greek sustenance?

Lizzie tapped her right index finger against the white satin table cloth, a low hum escaping her lips as she pursed them in thought. Michael answered for her a few seconds later, “She loves Italian food, as do I.”

“Very well, then. I shall have the chef’s prepare the most succulent Italian dish they can produce in celebration of your anniversary. I will be back shortly with your wine. If you require any assistance, please feel free to ask.” The waiter bowed low and wandered off in the general direction of the kitchen, stopping only to help a fellow comrade provide service to another guest before disappearing behind doubled doors.

“I can’t believe we are at a fancy restaurant about to eat a fancy meal with fancy wine,” Lizzie blurted out excitedly to Michael once the vicinity was clear of strangers and nobody was within earshot.

“It’s like I said, there are many new experiences to explore, even if you say you don’t want to. Isn’t this fun? When will we ever get the chance to do this again? Graduation wasn’t that long ago, and soon our adult lives will start,” an unusual hint of sorrow crept into his eyes, Lizzie noting his voice becoming more gruff towards the end.

“What’s wrong, Michael?” Lizzie candidly questioned, reaching out a hand to grab his lying atop the table to provide moral support in whatever may be troubling Michael.

“Nothing,” he answered immediately, lowering his head slightly to hide his features from her prying stare. Lizzie squinted her eyes, bending forward to observe his hunch shoulders and crouched head shielding the partial frown Michael struggled to conceal from her.

“You’re lying! You know I can read you like a book. Now tell me what’s wrong,” Lizzie demanded, her patience running thin.

“Alright, there is something, but I won’t tell you until after our dinner. I don’t want to ruin our anniversary. This can wait,” Michael uttered out finally, barely making eye contact. Lizzie began shaking her head, ready to confront Michael. “Please, Lizzie. I promise I’ll tell you after. And if I don’t, you can demand whatever you want of me and I won’t object, okay?” Michael lifted his head, his eyes directed at Lizzie’s face, imploring her to agree to his deal.

“Okay, I’ll wait. If you don’t tell me, I’ll demand something even grander than this expensive meal,” she affirmed. “By the way, how can you afford all of this?” Lizzie gestured at the sprawling expanse of the restaurant’s floor with patrons dressed in formal attire and delicacies engulfing long tables coupled with silverware and crystal glasses to enhance the atmosphere of extravagance.

Michael smirked in response, an air of smugness sparkling in his eyes. “It’s a secret,” he declared and laughed out loud at Lizzie’s disgruntled face, frustration coursing through her veins. There were no secrets between them.

Toning down his laughter, Michael relented, “I’ll tell you after our meal, promise.”

“Fine,” Lizzie held her tongue, biting back the sharp remark she was going to make.

Within seconds, the waiter stood beside them again, pouring a generous amount of ruby red liquid into champagne glasses. The image of her dazzled face reflected back at her as she observed the contents of her first alcoholic drink being served before her.

“Merlot wine,”the waiter announced, placing the filled glass gently in front of Lizzie and Michael. The waiter bowed at the waist then, one arm bent across his stomach to give his farewell before strolling off to a neighboring guest raising their hand for help.

Lizzie grabbed the delicate glass and lifted the swirling contents to her lips, the fruity aroma hitting her nostrils before the liquid ignited her taste buds into a frenzy. A taste that imprinted into her soul and would forever be the original experience to be compared to. She glanced up, a happiness bubbling in her stomach as Lizzie watched her best friend experience the effects of the Merlot wine, engraving the beautiful memory her friend had gifted her. A smile played on his lips as he stared at her from across the table, lifting the glass to her in salute. She lifted her glass and clanged it against his, a giggle escaping her lips.

***Present Time***

The fog lifted and the buried memory summoned by the forgotten Merlot wine faded. The human senses were a peculiar thing. With just a whiff, a touch, a taste, an echo or the sight of something familiar, one could be brought back in time, to vividly explore and reminisce moments in one’s life.

Lizzie sank in the wooden chair, the glass emptied of wine and the room shrouded in total darkness, the streams of light long gone with the vanished sun. Hidden from the world, Lizzie exhaled a breath and let the tears fall free, the glass dangling in her grasp falling to bounce onto the carpeted floor. Drowning in her tears, she scrubbed at her face to wipe away the salty liquid, unused to emotional breakdowns. One day, she too, would bounce from this, the sadness replaced with all the beautiful memories she lived and experienced. Until then, she would let herself succumb to her emotions, recall memories of regrets and sadness, and eventually she would heal.

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