An Evening at the United Nations
by Annis Shannon
I wish you weren't so lonely, but you are, a lot, and the loneliness follows you even to the city with me. Earlier that night, we were lying in your bed and the darkness of the room and the excessive sadness in your voice comforted me. You told me we were both emotionally needy. You hugged me with your head on my chest and I was just trying really hard to stay still and not get your hair in my mouth. You took a walk to get fireball, it was midnight, and I had just finished debriefing and was in my room trying to find clothes that smelled alright. It looks like you ran out of clean clothes as well because you showed up in a suit and your purple and green tie that I liked. We were so awkward, we didn't fit in with the rest of the world. Maybe you did though, because they thought you were wonderful and beautiful and they said more to you in five days than they did to me in eight months. Being with you made them like me just a little bit more.
You told me you didn't want me to drink because I was pure and it didn't take any convincing to change your mind because an hour later you showed up with a bottle in your unusually large pockets. I told you that everyone was in room Disco Dominican's room, 1121, but it turns out we were the first ones. You told me that Disco D reminded you of Junot Diaz. I guess I could see it. The glasses, the thin lips, and hooded eyes that led me to believe he was either always tired or had something of substantive importance to say. We shuffled around the room, no one was drinking yet, and instead they had connected Togo's laptop to the hotel's television and were watching a live steam of the new Nigerian Presidents Speech. Togo wasn't from Nigeria even though a lot of the group thought he was. Togo was just quiet and although he never had much to say he was one of the only people I had talked to before the evening. He told me he was moving to Germany. When I see him I day dream about swimming in the Rhine.
When the girls started streaming in in groups of three is when things really started happening. You met Trinidad, and she was the only person in that room I knew you wouldn't hate. I was right because later you told me you had kind of fallen in love with her, that she has good people skills and that her face was a gift. When it started getting louder, Disco D started shouting ‘Decorum’ which might have worked only there was so many of us that it didn't do much. If anything, our whispers transcended and became a loud collective murmur which was far worse than the talking so they decided it was time to make our way to the lounge in small groups. Only, I didn't know and thought you had left me with these people, so I walked out of the room in tears, and swallowed the last of the weak drink you had made.
You found Norway in the middle of the party kissing a stranger. She was 17 and her lipstick was smeared in an ombre of pink to the center of her cheeks. Her hair was really as bleach blonde and as soft as you said it was, and I know now why you spent two hours brushing it. You called it real Aryan hair. She apologized for the tangles in it, and I think that was the last time I remember being sober.
While you were gone to get Norway water, the room was starting to get louder and I could feel it pulse with every movement I made. Ethiopia was getting a chair from behind me, and he stared at me the entire time he was doing so. He was wearing a blue, purple, and gray tie-dye shirt, the colors leaked off of it. He asked me where I was from, and when I told him, he embraced me. I couldn't stop thinking, and I feel like his hug lasted for more than it should but I didn't want to pull away. Not yet. I kept thinking about how thin he was and how I could feel his ribs pushing into my arm which was what separated both of our bodies. He called me his sister of faith. I didn't respond and instead, imagined myself being enveloped in all of his colors.
United States had come up to us. We had mixed drinks again, round unknown, but luckily I could predominately taste mango margarita. I tried pressing the concoction to your lips but they wouldn't part so we shared with the United States. She was from Ohio and she was wearing a hockey jersey and she was so sweaty that the thick black eyebrows on her face were starting to melt. She was more shit faced then we both were, but yet we handed her the drink and exploded in excitement when she devoured it entirely. She leaned over you, grabbed my face and told me I was the most beautiful person in the entire world she had ever seen. I leaned over you, grabbed her face and did the same.
You kept looking at me and smiling. I've never seen you smile that way ever, maybe it was the alcohol, because really, we were the only two drinking the fireball, and on top of that I had mixed everyone's leftover drinks into a cup and swallowed before I could think of a reason not to. I wish you smiled this way all the time, you sway your head, your eyes squint and half your face is sunken into laugh lines.
You pissed under the table, and I thought it was a dream. 8:00 am I woke up still drunk, and putting aside my roommate's incessant complaints, I couldn't help laughing. I was late and while I was mentally forcing my legs to roll off the side of the bed and touch the floor they still remained nestled under pillows, sheets, and bags of Wise cheese doodles and Haribo gummy cola. I could taste the whisky in my mouth, and even after mouth wash it wouldn't wear off. I laughed again, thinking of how you had lifted the white table cloth, littered with empty bottles to cover yourself. You were looking from side to side as you urinated, your green tie clashing with the table cloth as you shifted yourself. Spain had come to table and you were talking to her normally as if you didn't have your dick in your hand.
Spain. What were we talking to her about? She was wearing an eggshell off the shoulder shirt, and for the first time since we met she didn't seem uptight. She asked me if I was okay, and she thought I was drunk because I had spilled water on your crotch and proceeded to wipe it off with my hand. You wiped it off with a guy's jacket that you stole from the side of the room. Her hair was bigger, and her face was brighter, and she was perhaps the only thing cuter than bunnies. I doubted that words were being said by her, but I knew that wasn't the case because I could see that her neutral lips were moving, and words were finding their way to my ears. Her lips lacked much pigment, but still, they were the only thing stained in an ocean of vanilla. Every time they moved they blurred the entire room.
We were leaving soon. Actually, I don't know how much time elapsed between Spain leaving and when we left. Did we all leave together? The music stopped, not that I really noticed it to begin with, I only noticed that I heard more peoples voices after it had ended. Old Iran was walking with us. She was wearing red. Red. And her hair was so incredibly black and shiny that it looked like a sheet of obsidian was oozing down the side of her face. She was soaked in sweat, and regardless of that I wanted to hug her. She heard me say blow job. I offered you a blow job five times. I insisted. You pulled me to the side of the room and told me that I need to pull myself together. I continued to tell you how okay it was for me to give you head and you continued to laugh hysterically.
When we reunited with our group I felt your face. It was incredibly smooth and I believe you told me that the trick was to use coconut oil. Disco D and Togo were trying to get everyone together and I had managed to reach forward and feel Disco D's. It was spikey, rough, and Togo's felt the same way. I hope you didn't let me pet their faces too long because I can still feel the harshness of their flesh on my palm. Palestine had his arm around Bangladesh. Palestine had that awful grin on his face that was dually disapproving and belittling. He told me that he and Bangladesh were together as if everyone doesn't already talk about their relationship. We walked passed him and I yelled what a fuck boy. Bangladesh was too smart and too pretty for a fuck boy. I was playing with her hair and I think that she thinks I am drunk. I hugged her. Her hugs were the best and that if it wasn't for you I probably wouldn't have let her go that night.
I am glad that you took me to my room even though it took me close to an hour to figure out how to take my pants off. It's a good thing I didn't piss on myself and equally an accomplishment that I didn't sleep in the bath tub although that was on my mind. I probably would have if I didn't need to charge my phone. I couldn't figure out how to use the charger. I should have drank more water like you told me to, that way, maybe I could have a solid recollection of my evening at the united nations.