A couple of months after I met Sarah at the dance, she called me on a Saturday night knowing of a party Steve would be attending, basically demanding I take her. I called Steve for the first and last time to ask the address of the party. My excuse was that �a chick� was �bugging me� to �do something�, that there was another party I desperately wanted to avoid; and Steve gave up the information without hesitation, not knowing who Sarah was.

That night, Larry created his fortnightly near-break-up with his girlfriend. He was in the frenzied stage where he thought every guy who spoke to her was a threat � a period which lasted years in his case; unable to believe, like everyone else, that she was dating him wilfully. I still couldn�t bring myself to allow him and Sarah to meet � we hadn�t spent any time together since I started opening up to her.

So we wouldn�t run out of things to talk about � which was very possible, considering we�d only spent a couple of minutes together in person � I tried to read a trendy new short-story collection I had bought months earlier and whose author was profiled on talk shows and in magazines, but every story started off with the line �When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie� and I had to put it back in my bookshelf and drink three shots of bourbon to recover from the effort.

Before leaving, I barely remembered to ask Sarah where she lived. It took forever to find her place, then meet her younger sister and intimidating Commie parents. Sarah was chewing gum, energetic, fielding and asking questions of father (who was driving � alcohol would be necessary for me � and who she later described as �A big cutie pie! I just want to hug him!�). She was still growing and looked different to when I�d last seen her. I sat in the front seat, gripping the handle above the window, silent for the entire trip.

Once we found the right street I warned father that we could walk the rest of the way. I took the half-empty bottle of bourbon from the back seat as Sarah looked on disapprovingly. Walking to the party, I found myself mentioning things I�d never told anyone before, and though it was soothing to be able to say it out loud to someone, it was plainly obvious it meant nothing to her.

There were two huge bouncers at the door of the party. They had a guest list and everything. Neither of us had met whoever�s party it was. Sarah managed to bullshit her way in, but I was left outside. While I tried to make small talk, the bouncers realised something and asked, �Wait, what was her name? She isn�t on the list.�

She returned soon after, having organised for us to be permitted inside, but only in a couple of hours.
�So what do you want to do?� she asked. �Do you want to get something to eat? How about sushi?�
Being allergic to seafood has never bothered me as much as it did in the seconds following that question.

We walked past a Brazilian restaurant whose maitre d� insisted we come inside. He offered us a couple of seats at the bar before we could be issued a table, too preoccupied with Sarah�s attractiveness to realise we were only fifteen and seventeen at the time; not that I was complaining. Then a table became available and we were seated before I had the chance to order a drink.

I was already starting to show signs of the negativity that would take over in the coming years. I could only see the imperfections in people, I was constantly disappointed, I had nothing in common with anyone. But time stood still in the ensuing minutes in that restaurant. The place was crowded and noisy, but we may as well have been the only people there. We interacted the same way we did on the phone, discussing whatever topic came to mind. For once a conversation I was involved in didn�t resemble an interrogation. We communicated smoothly even though every moment was amplified � I knew this person would dictate part of my future since she was the only female to ever initiate contact with me or show any genuine interest for who or what I might be, regardless of her motives.

One of the three lasting mental images I have of her is based on our time there. I see a montage of her face, frozen, in that restaurant; an indistinct, yet positive response to something I�d said; the older yuppie couples in the background sipping wine, disgusted by my language or aroused by Sarah�s appearance. It was our only real time together.

Our waiter interrupted and I asked him what kinds of beer they served.
�Corona, Budweiser, Heineken,� he recited.
�Yes?� I asked, smirking at Sarah, gesturing for him to continue.
�That�s, um, all, sir,� he said.
�No Kirin? No Grolsch? No Morretti?� I asked, confused, irate.
�I�m sorry, sir, but no. Only Corona, Budweiser, Heineken.�
�That�s crazy,� I sighed. �Bring me a Heineken.�
�I�ll just have a water,� Sarah said.
�I�ll have the same thing,� I quickly added, my leg jerking up then down uncontrollably beneath the table.

�Okay. Would you like to hear the specials?� he asked.
�By all means,� I spat out, then, calming down, smiled reassuringly at Sarah.
�You�re sure?� he laughed.
�Please,� I said, unamused, studying the menu.
�For appetisers I have the sun-dried tomatoes and golden caviar with poblano chillies, and I also have a fresh endive soup ��
�Wait a minute, wait a minute,� I said, holding up a hand, stopping him. �Hold on a minute.�
�Yes sir?� the waiter asked, cautious.
�You have? You mean the restaurant has. You don�t have any sun-dried tomatoes. The restaurant does. You don�t have the poblano chillies. The restaurant does. Just, you know, clarify.�
The waiter, stunned, looked at Sarah, who handled the situation deftly by asking him, �So how is the soup served?�
�Er � cold,� the waiter said, not fully recovered from my outburst. He stopped again, uncertain.

�Go on,� I urged. �Please go on.�
�It�s served cold,� he started again. �And for entr�es we have monkfish with mango slices and red snapper sandwich on brioche with maple syrup and� � he checked his pad � �cotton.�
�Mmmm, sounds delicious. Cotton, mmmm,� I said, rubbing my hands together eagerly. �I don�t know if I can choose. Sarah?�
�Why don�t we just start off with some ... appetisers? These � breads sound good.�
She pointed at two items, I think randomly, as the waiter nodded, took Sarah�s menu, and as I scanned the prices for the first time a wave of horror took over me. The waiter tried to pull the menu from me, which I resisted for several seconds, then let go, and he finally left us alone.

�Well,� she said, smiled, then noticed the table slightly shaking. �What�s � wrong with your leg?�
�My leg? Oh.� I looked down, then back at her. �It�s � the music. I like the music a lot. The music that�s playing.�
�Nick �� she leaned in, staring at me with her big brown eyes, concerned. �Are you okay? What�s � wrong? You can tell me.�
�It�s � this place,� I seethed. �It�s fucked. Why did we come here? Did you see the menus? The beer was fifteen dollars. And the water was � ten.�
�I didn�t think to bring any money. I thought we�d just be going to the party.�
�So did I. I�ve got � fifty dollars on me. That won�t even pay for our drinks and the appetisers.�
�Well, we�ll figure something out,� she said. �Don�t worry!�
�Huh? I�m not � I�m not worried,� I said, laughing nervously, trembling.

The waiter returned swiftly, opening the beer in front of me, pouring it into a chilled glass. He then returned with a complimentary (I hoped) salad, and a small plate with two tiny pieces of flavoured bread in front of each of us. It occurred to me for the first time that I�d never really seen a girl eat before. I noticed the maitre d� turning away two couples at the door.

Sarah droned on about her clothes and how she shouldn�t be eating this, how she felt bloated, as I kept a smile on my face � without showing my teeth � and waited for an idea to come to my head, in the meantime saying things like �Saving the ozone layer is a really cool idea� and making sexual innuendos she didn�t understand.

She offered me a taste of whatever was on her plate, nonchalantly holding it halfway across the table, and I had a certainty within me that the next few moments of my life meant something, were important, and that I had no time to contemplate my actions � was I supposed to lean over the table and eat straight from her hand, or just take it from her with my own hand? Her body language didn�t suggest any answer.
I grabbed it from her, not making eye contact, then sheepishly looked up to see she wasn�t paying attention.

The waiter retrieved our plates the moment we finished � this was after something awkwardly spat out of my mouth, thanks to the braces, which Sarah definitely noticed without mentioning � and he asked, �Are you ready for the mains? Shall I bring back the menus?�
�Uh �� I started.
Sarah took over, making eye contact, batting her eyelashes a few times. �We really just came here for a light meal,� she said.
�That�s � possible,� the waiter said, confused.
�Well, thanks,� I said, standing up hurriedly, slapping the waiter on the back, placing my fifty on the table, taking the untouched salad and slamming it on the table next to us, telling a couple �Here, uh � enjoy � we didn�t have any� and whispering �Let�s just go� to Sarah, leading her abruptly out of the restaurant, and then we were outside and I was utterly devastated, murmuring to myself �I should have known better I should have known better.� But Sarah skipped down the street laughing, pulling me along, and when I finally noticed her mood, between giggles she said �That was so funny� and then, squeezing my clenched fist, she let me know �Your sense of humour is so � spontaneous.� Shaken, walking stiffly by her side, ignoring her, I asked myself �Where � to � now?� and in seconds came up with an answer � the party, toward which I found myself guiding us.

Both of us were let inside this time, only I wasn�t allowed to bring my bottle of bourbon � which I hid in a nearby garden before being abducted by the maitre d� of the restaurant � and was instructed to leave it with the bouncers. They lined it up next to several other bottles of alcohol, labelling it with the number ninety-six written on a Post-it note. �You should be able to remember that,� they said. �It�s sixty-nine backwards.�

I knew a couple of guys at the party, but Steve wasn�t there. Regardless, Sarah said the first things that came to mind, was incredibly loud, treating every person the same, and everyone loved her. It didn�t occur to anyone that it was the first time a girl was with me in public. People had to sneak alcohol in through bathroom windows or neighbours� gardens while pretending to make phone calls. Sarah started dancing, urging me to join her, which I refused, shouting over the music, �I�ve just � never understood the concept of dancing,� and as I took a seat near where she danced � with one or two girls joining her � and she made eye contact with me, I realised for the first time there was simply no way this could ever work.

There was the moment Sarah went paranoid thinking she had lost a piece of jewellery, only to have me calmly ask if it was in her bag, which it was. There was a fight outside, two wops involved, neither of them seriously injured. Taking a seat by myself outside, watching the aftermath of the fight, I saw Sarah approach the girl whose party it was (who was wearing a kimono for no apparent reason) in a panic, trying to find someone she hadn�t seen in a while, who she had arrived with, who was important to her, whose place she was supposed to be sleeping at, and I kept watching, mystified, and when she finally stopped talking I asked, �Do you mean � do you mean me?� and her face lit up and she said �There you are!�

Everyone was kicked out and the night was looking like a total wash. Steve never turned up, but Sarah had gotten along frustratingly well with another guy I knew who made her laugh effortlessly; or at least easier than I could. Without any money left, I was going to have to walk Sarah home. Just as we left the party, two anonymous dark figures walked past us, then paused for a few seconds, then Steve called my name. It couldn�t have worked out better � he was arriving late after being at another party, and I could introduce him to Sarah comfortably.

When Sarah asked our small group indirectly �What are we going to do now?�, Steve told her, �We�re going to get drunk together� and led us towards the closest bar. Sarah waited for me, gripped my arm discreetly, barely containing her excitement while whispering, �Did you hear that?�

But we needed to find a pub that would allow several under-age people inside, preferably without involving Brazilian food. Hardly anywhere was open. We were refused entry to several clubs and lost patience. Me and a couple of the guys finished the bourbon I brought with a round of shots.

The guy who was flirting with Sarah had to leave because he had an acting audition the next day. She stopped a cab for him and asked if the driver had a pen so she could get his number and perhaps catch up with him, maybe ask about the audition or future ones, a little curious about acting herself; but of course never called.

We found somewhere to eat and, inexplicably, Sarah said goodbye and literally ran home.
Steve, perplexed, asked, �Is she your girlfriend?�

Without any money left, I walked home, which lasted several long hours.

It took a few days without contact to get an explanation for Sarah�s departure, semi-worried she mightn�t have made it home at all. Apparently her mother had ordered her to return home immediately, which wasn�t nearly enough detail, and she seemed unsure of the reasons herself.

There was no way I could be assertive about it. I hadn�t even kissed a girl on the cheek at this stage � I remember that ordeal very distinctly. It happened months later, after I was eighteen, at a party where I happened to be standing at the front door with two guys when two supposed female friends entered and kissed each of them on the cheek. I had to take specific mental notes in the moments before they approached me, though it was executed flawlessly in the end.

Sarah and I continued the ritual of speaking for two hours right after school each day, her obsession with Steve invariably at the top of the list, her first questions �Any news?� and �Did you speak to Steve today?�

She spoke to me for hours at a time when she was babysitting. I would call her some nights when Kevin and Larry and their girlfriends were at my place and I had to convey my isolation to someone. She mentioned times in the past when she had seen movies with guys whose names were mysteriously mentioned only once. She gave me details of what little sexual experience she had, while I probably jerked off during most of our conversations. In one of her stories, she saw a penis estimated to be in the vicinity of nine inches in length. I invented my own sexual history, which I didn�t admit to be a lie for some years, at which point Sarah expressed no surprise. One night I taught her how to finger herself � it lasted around five seconds and she didn�t enjoy it or ever try it again.

She started to speak with other guys from my school in the hope they might be more useful in relation to Steve. I heard all about who she loved and how funny they were. I should have known she would be so affectionate with everyone else. Some of the guys she mentioned were already popular and didn�t need or deserve her attention, and I was heavily criticised when I �accidentally� gave one of them � a football prodigy she seemed particularly fond of � a season-ending back injury during trials.

Once she told me about rumoured plans for her school�s uniform, none of which I understood, though I was able to stop myself before asking what the difference was between a dress and a skirt. I cancelled a holiday to our grandmother�s place purely because I couldn�t stand the thought of a full week without speaking to her. A couple of times we sort of organised to meet in person after school � I remember waiting in a public place, in my school uniform; giving up after half an hour. I remember ditching Kevin and spending a long night waiting for Sarah to turn up on the steps of Town Hall, then refusing to call her for three days in defiance, which at that point was a major thing.

It would be months until I saw her again.

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