Beneath the moonlight
It was going to be just like a romantic movie.
It took him years to muster up the courage for this moment, but it was finally time. They would no longer be just friends. And how could they be? How long had they been exchanging quick glances each other’s way in the hallways at school, or at the grocery store when they worked together? How many times had she laughed at his jokes when no one else did? How often had she grazed his hand with hers? The signs couldn’t be more clear, and the stars had finally aligned. This was the moment where everything would change.
His surprise visit would make her swoon. Her heart would jump, and her smile would be uncontrollable. Of course she’d say “yes” to prom, and they’d go together hand-in-hand. They’d stay steady even through college and far beyond. They’d have children, and their children would have children, and they’d tell the little ones the storybook tale of when grandpa asked grandma to be his forever.
Things would never be the same after that night.
Her parents’ cars were gone. He slowly walked up to her front door and took one final deep breath. The moon shined behind him like a spotlight, ready to show the world what real romance looked like. He gently knocked three times. After a moment with no answer. He gently knocked again.
It was just like a horror movie.
There were three loud bangs against the front door. Her heart jumped. She turned off the T.V. and sat there listening, hoping that the silence would turn the unexpected visitor away. Three louder bangs pummeled the front door. She scurried closer to look through the peephole, shocked to see that he was standing there at such an odd hour of the night. She really didn’t want to open the door, but she did anyway — they were good friends after all.
Her smile was uncontrollable — it always was when she was uncomfortable. His silhouette was gangly and unsettling in the shadow of the moon’s light. Even in the darkness, she could see the sweat pouring down his clammy skin. His hands and lips were trembling erratically. They both stood silently in the doorway for what felt like minutes before an endless stream of words started pouring from his mouth.
She didn’t comprehend much more than “prom” and “our children’s’ children” and “forever.” She wished that her parents were home. She told him that she already had a prom date and a boyfriend, which she didn’t, and she watched his face melt with anguish and defeat. Without another word, he turned away, slunk back into his car, and sped off. She ran back inside and turned the door’s lock before also securing the chain for good measure. She texted her parents to see if they’d be home soon.
Things were never the same after that night.
