We Real Cool 10 The Second Adventure

It is not only until now that I fully understand what my favorite writer, Joan Didion, once said. "It is easier to see the beginnings of things and harder to see the ends." I say this because as soon as the song ended, I cannot exactly remember how we got off the stage and ran out of the pub. I don't recall what Red told me for me to follow his lead, jump off the stage, and run to the exit. How everything—the dancing, the singing, the euphoria—suddenly ended is a mystery to my mind blown mind. All I know is that in only a matter of seconds, we were out of Limelight Studios as fast as it took us to go in.

We're now back in the cobbled streets of Boston, running and short in breath.

"THAT WAS CRAZY," I tell him as soon as we reached the far end of the sidewalk. "I STILL CANNOT BELIEVE WE DID THAT."

"I KNOW," he replied with his eyes very wide. "I'm glad we did."

"You're welcome," I teased.

I look at him and he smiles back. It is in this very moment that I feel like it's the perfect time to laugh and joke around so I make a funny face after giving him a playful wink.

"Like I said," I continue. "De nada."

"No, I'm serious," he replies. "I've never done that before and I'm glad I did it tonight."

"I don't believe you," I tell him. "That can't possibly be the first time you did a dare as crazy as that since you nailed it like a pro – so please, spare me the false humility."

"I'm serious," he tells me. "It was like riding a 360 roller coaster with no seat-belts on me. Didn't your heart feel like it could leap out?"

"I don't know," I reply. "You tell me. I can't exactly explain the feeling. It was my first time to do something like that – well, second if you count a horrible first experience – and I can't exactly remember how it felt. It happened so fast."

"Fine," he tells me. "At least tell me your favorite part."

"Give me time," I reply.

"I'll go ahead then," he continues. "My favorite was when you got onstage and started singing with me and the band."

"Wow," I reply. "I feel like you're just making fun of me now."

"What?" he says while bringing his right hand to his chest. "I am not."

"Fine," I reply. "To be honest, I don't think I have a favorite part. It's the little things, I guess – the moment we walked in, the moment the band started playing, and even that time when you went down the stage. But then again, I could live without any of them, just so you know. I actually would not mind if we actually spent a whole hour at Fenway Park cheering for the Red Sox."

"But Liz," he said ever so gently. "You're missing the whole point of why I actually brought you there in the first place instead of bringing you back to the Red Sox. To live doesn't mean you're alive."

That got me. I felt as though someone just poured a big bucket of freezing water and woke me up from a deep slumber. As though I've been stabbed right in the heart. As though a bullet went through my chest and made me think about life. We're now about to cross the street and I'm glad that the signal for the pedestrian crossing is still on stop because I need the time to process what he just said.

In many ways, he's actually right. But then again, if I were to live in the moment all the time, what would my tomorrow look like? If I had partied like this for the last couple of years of my life, I don't think I'll even be here right now. I do not think I would have ever had the right grades and the right recommendations for me to be admitted to Harvard, even just for a summer program.
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If I lived in the moment and went on the most random adventure with every boy I liked, I don't think I'd even be in the right mind. If every day of my life was something like this, I don't think I'd even be alive, as gross as it sounds. I would not be the obedient, straight-laced, and self-controlled Lizzie that everyone knows. I would not be the typical Asian kid who's done everything not for the spectacular now. Study hard. Respect the elderly. Obey them no matter what. Get great grades. Get into college. Pray every day. Thank the G.o.ds.

All my life, I've done just that.

I've never missed a deadline, a dentist appointment, or a Sunday ma.s.s. All my life, I've been a diligent soldier doing all the things expected of me, but then again, is this lifetime supposed to be only about duty, responsibility, and task? While I've had my fair share of fun dares, I've also given up so many of the blood-pumping moments that partying with friends, going on unplanned adventures, and even falling in love could have possibly offered me then.

If only life were so simple for me to live as though it were my last day, I would completely agree to what he said, no holds barred. But then again, I'm not sure. I see where he's coming from about living in the moment, so at the end of it all, I guess we are, in equal parts, right.

"Easier said than done," I replied. The sign turned green, and I was glad cut our conversation. As soon as we reached the other end, however, he asks me another question.

"Why don't you tell me about that horrible first experience?"

"Are you serious?" I ask him.

"Yes," he says looking at me. "If it's alright."

"Hold on; if I'm going to answer a question, you're going to have to explain something as well." I respond. "Let's start with the fact that you never told me that you could sing. That was a surprise."

"Well, you never asked," he answered.

"And that you knew every word to Pumpin' Blood. That you sang so well it's as though you've known the song your whole life. It actually sounds more intriguing than my horrible first experience so why don't you go first and tell me about that."

"Well, you were also bold enough to get up onstage and sing with me in front of what–three hundred people?"

"I still can't believe that I got you to do a dare in front of a big crowd," I reply with a smile.

"It's only fair then."

While I know that we agreed to talk about my horrible first experience and his explanation of why he was good in singing Pumpin' Blood, it seemed as though there was nothing more to say. Silence enveloped us as we walked side by side.

"So?" he asks me.

"Can we talk about something else?" I ask him.

"What do you mean?" he asked.

"I mean," I continue. "Why don't we just leave those questions unanswered?"

"Exactly," he answered. "To look for 'reasons' is beside the point."

"I know," I say.

"What do you want to talk about?"

Oh, Red. I know I said not to answer those questions, but in reality, I do want to talk about them. I want to ask you about why you actually did the dare and why you pulled me up onstage. I want to know why you offered to do the dare even when I ended up liking the Cherry-tomato pizza. I want to know why you even bought me dinner or why you've been nothing but nice.

I want to know the truth – not what you think I want to hear, not the same reason you told me earlier that you just want to do something good for a stranger tonight. Tell me the truth. Maybe even be so bold as to tell me that you did all those things simply because you liked me and maybe, just maybe, I will tell you that I like you back. That's all that I kind of want to hear. At least, for now.

"You seem pretty daring for a nerd," I say. "Why don't you tell me about that?"

"Oh," he answers. "I'm a daredevil, aren't I?"

I only laugh. He laughs as well.

"Well, if you really want to know," he replied. "I can tell you everything but it's a very long story and it will take me a long time to finish it."

"I'm all ears."

"But we'll be at Fenway in eight minutes," he replies.

"I'm sure you can think of a longer route."

"You know it."

He pulls up his phone and begins typing away. I don't mean to check on what he's doing, but I can't help but see a map on the screen.

"Please don't tell me you're actually look for a longer route," I tell him.

"Nope," he replies with a sly smile. "I'm actually calling a friend who can take us somewhere for another adventure."

"Please tell me you're kidding."

"I'm not," he tells me. "On the bright side, he says he'll be here in no time."