Cordelia

by Laure Alexander

[ ] denote action * * denote emphasis

Scene: The ladies room at the Bronze.

[Cordelia stands before the smeared mirror reapplying her lipstick. She's wearing a skin tight black spandex dress that ends a centimeter below indecency. Her hair is perfect, her face is glowing just enough, but something's wrong.]

What's wrong with me? Why do I stand here at this mirror staring at a stranger? When did *she* become a stranger?

[Cordelia mentally shakes herself and puts her lipstick away. But, as she turns to leave, she catches another glimpse in the mirror and stops, turning back.]

Out there waiting for me is the perfect guy. Jason's a senior, he's point guard on the varsity basketball team--so not too tall. Blonde, tan, built, with the cutest ass...plus he drives a hot car...and he asked *me* out.

So, why is this the worst date I've ever been on? Jason's funny and has manners--he actually pulled my chair out for me, what kind of guy does that? He's smart but doesn't make me feel stupid. He thinks *my* jokes are funny. Why can't I laugh at his?

I should be thrilled!

All I feel is alone.

All my friends are out there, waiting for me to return and dazzle them with something witty and fresh. It would be so easy to go out and say something cruel about someone and make them all laugh. But, I wouldn't laugh; not anymore.

What changed? Why am I no longer the Cordelia everyone worships? Why do I no longer want to *be* that Cordelia?

I know the answer.

I want to deny it; I *have* been denying it for weeks.

When I look inside myself, I no longer only see me. *He's* there, too. My other half...and I want to deny him, deny the truth. It shouldn't have been *him*. He shouldn't be my dream.

But, he is. I have to accept it. My heart knows the truth.

I'm on a date with Jason because he's the perfect guy...but he's not my dream, not any longer.

I no longer need perfect and that scares me.

Everyone else--if they understood it, which they won't-- would see it as settling.

But, it wouldn't be settling. How can you "settle" with the boy, no the man, you're meant to be with?

He's out there, probably doing one of his stupid dances or gawking at *her*. He wants me--I know very well when a man wants me--but he won't make his move here, not in public. We had a deal, after all.

But, suddenly, I want to break the deal and shock the entire room full of people. I want to go out there and find him and kiss him silly. His kisses are so tender and sweet...and hot and hungry.

I want him to make love to me. Oh, I've had sex with half a dozen guys--a lot less than most people believe--but I've never made love. I want him to be the first, the last, the only.

And that frightens me most of all.

I'm sixteen. How can I know that my soulmate is already in my life? How can I deny that he is my future?

I can't.

I love Xander Harris in all his goofy sweetness.

All I need is the courage to let the him know.

[Cordelia turns from the mirror again, straightens her dress and leaves the ladies room.]

But, not tonight.

End

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