The frozen night gnaws at my face like it hasn’t eaten in days, alive with a bouquet of red currants and fanfare. The smell of perfume slips silently out of the after-party and down the spiral staircase, escaping through the closed door in lusty drafts like a flower garden on steroids. Our footsteps echo - too loud in the crowded, solitary parking garage. Everything feels amplified tonight, and yet far away - like I’m listening to - reaching out and existing through a glass wall. The click of my high-heels on the concrete… The heartbeat of the alcohol in my bloodstream…

She - I stand shivering in the burning red cocktail dress we rented just for the occasion as Kattar makes a ceremony out of opening my door.

The late November chill sits palpably thick in the car like we’re bathing in evaporated ice water. On other days I would fret the gooseflesh on my shoulders something awful, silently bemoaning the seconds it takes Kattar to slide into the driver’s seat and close his door, but I told myself I wouldn’t let anything ruin today. I still might ask him for his jacket, and if I do, I’d better do it sooner than later, cuz I know he’ll never relinquish anything without teasing me for an hour and a half first. We’ll either be frozen or back at the hotel, by then. 

I study the parked cars outside my window, dip-dyed in darkness that seems to lob them in half beneath the shadow of the overhangs. The yellow lights in the garage are few and far between, casting a dangerously sleepy hue over everything. I feel so sluggish, it grates on me - wishing I was exploding with energy - feeling as excited as I know I should be right now. 

Today was the happiest day of my life, in a dull sort of way. Perfect in muted color.

Kattar finally closes his door and turns the car, and the heat, on. I can tell by his posture that he’s laughing on the inside. I can almost feel him fizzing beneath the surface as he turns in my direction and smirks, “So… how’s it feel? What’s it like being Ms. Van Gogh?”

“That’s not what they call the award,” I reply, sighing just because I know it amuses him to annoy me, “This isn’t a beauty pageant…” Then I think about it. 

“Well, it’s kind of a beauty pageant, I guess. But “Damsel in the Red Dress” is what everyone was fawning over. Not me. I guess Vegerra would say she was the ‘prettiest girl in the room.’ That still kinda hasn’t hit me yet…”

“That’s just ‘cuz you’re drunk,” he laughs, shifting the car out of ‘park.’ “It’ll hit you tomorrow, with the hangover.”

I just shake my head at the accusation rather than trying to argue. I know good and well I’m too ‘legless’ to have a leg to stand on. 

“You’d be drunk too if you’d tried the champagne they were serving,” I tell him. “It was made the same year my grandparents were born, in some fancy Spanish vineyard known for serving royals throughout Europe in days past. Vegerra said it cost more than the venue.”

Kattar whistles, “That is one expensive headache. I’ll just have to try it the next time you take the world by storm. I’d already set my heart on playing chauffeur tonight.” he laughs again, his voice like silver bells “Gotta make sure the lady of the hour wakes up in her own bed tomorrow morning, instead of a ditch somewhere.”

“I’m not that drunk,” I say flatly, but less articulately than intended. Kattar smirks, but doesn’t take his eyes off the small circle of light outside the windshield. Adjusting the rearview mirror with one hand he urges the car around the last tight corner with a sort of refined ease. The security guard salutes us as he waves the car through, sans toll.

“Congratulations,” He calls to me. 

I thank him. Try to make my voice sound happy. Smile a smile that’s horribly dry. I feel like an entitled little brat.

We emerge from the parking garage like some species of metallic groundhog. The night is aggressively dark, washing out the street lights and swallowing their glow in a heavenly abyss.

“I don’t think I’ve ever been out this late,” I breathe, studying the heavy sky, steadily sifting great flakes of snow onto the frozen asphalt.

“You’ll fall asleep fast,” Kattar assures me.

I don’t say anything, just huddle deeper into my stylishly thin jacket, watching him over the high collar. He looks almost as flushed as I do, but it’s genuine joy, not alcohol, that has the roses blooming in his cheeks. For some reason that makes me feel worse.

“I kinda w…”     -No don’t-          I shut my mouth quickly.

“Whad’ja say?” Kattar doesn’t take his eyes off the road but tilts his head so I know he’s listening. I cover my mouth with both hands and shake my head, knowing he can see me in his peripheral vision. Curse the champagne. I feel hotter.

“What?” he coaxes, “Come on. Don’t be awkward, Lise. It’s your day. Did you wanna go get ice cream at some unholy hour? Or buy one of those outrageously expensive cakes? We can probably arrange that…”

“No,” I say quickly, “I was just being…ridiculous. Today’s just been so crazy. I haven’t been sure what I was thinking or saying since I woke up this morning. Almost like…” I stare at the other cars rushing along the road toward the vanishing point in the black horizon, not exactly sure how to explain this feeling I can’t even comprehend within myself.

“Do you ever feel like you’re not really living in your own body, but more like you’re watching from the outside, just pushing a button to make yourself react, going here and there and everywhere?”

“Like you’re lucid dreaming?”

“Definitely not,” I groan involuntarily, just remembering the childish nightmares that escorted my irrational fears up to knock on reality’s door - pounding on the sunrise. They almost made it into tonight. I shake my head. “All my dreams end with me tripping over my tongue or making some huge embarrassing mistake-”

“Come on,” he scoffs.

“I’m serious -” My voice clips, and I try to steady it. Stupid. I pity the emotions as I coldcock them, shoving them back down into the pit of my stomach just because they aren’t the ones I wanted - Then I think how ridiculous this all is. I know it’s just the unreality of tonight that is magnifying every thought I was never supposed to give the time of day - or night - I’m giving now. I’ve stayed up too late - I keep talking. Words leaking from between my lips.

“I was so sure this was going to be the worst day of my life. That I was going to get up there and make a fool of myself in front of all those people, or that I wouldn’t be able to make myself smile when someone else won the award. Each time someone got a little bit of praise from Vegerra I told myself ‘She’s going to win, he likes her piece better than yours’ - trying to brace myself so it wouldn’t hurt as much. But then I didn’t lose…. and that made no sense to me. I don’t think it even registered. Every time someone came up to shake my hand and congratulate me I thought that would be the moment when it sunk in. But…it still hasn’t. I don’t think I would have doubted for a second if I HADN’T won. If I hadn’t been praised by all those art critics and had Vegerra tell me that he thought I was going to be the next Da Vinci. But as it is I’m still waiting for someone to say there was some kind of a mistake. Like, maybe there isn’t supposed to be any such thing as a perfect day…?”

There’s a pause as we pull to a stop in front of the red light. Kattar shakes his head at the silence and rests his arms on the steering wheel, unsure of what to say.

“Do you want me to pinch you?” 

He’s staring me full in the face, but I can’t even tell if he’s joking.

“Let’s think of another option,” I say seriously, hoping to end that train of thought before it gets out of hand.

Kattar pouts a little, playfully, his rosy lower lip jutting out with mock injury, but I ignore the expression. Stare at my shoes. Trying to sigh quietly.

I feel the car start moving again, but don’t look up. Listen to the sound of the snow crunching under the wheels.

That’s when I hear the metallic scream - like a backing track to Kattar’s ‘What the f-.’ 

Something rushes at us with all the speed of a hurricane, washing out the road with its shivering lights. Kattar whips the steering wheel hard to his right making the car spin tee-to-tum and grate across the pavement with a horrible shriek that sets my ears ringing. I catch a glimpse of the other car as it careens around the corner in surround sound, barreling into us headlong, brilliant with sparks.

The incoming vehicle strikes the driver's side of the car with the full force of its mad dash. We shred ice, shred the asphalt - the night alive with fire and embers of glass. We flash like a supernova as the headlights explode -

Then I think we hit the railing. 

That’s what the medics told me.