Lisa Weinstein
Nonfiction Piece
January 17, 2000

The loud cries of teenagers fill the night, their laughter and screams echo through the streets. The many partygoers crowd the narrow sidewalks, stumbling and leaning on each other for support. This is the typical Friday night in State College. The dance party music resonates from each fraternity house as well as the tall apartment buildings that tower over the town. The smell of beer fills the air.
Turning away from gazing into the night, I look for my group of friends. I hurriedly walk to catch up to where they are, which is a few feet ahead of me down Fraternity Row. Tonight, I am wearing my black pants; a short sleeved purple and black striped shirt, black chunky heels, and a smile that seems to fill my whole face. We stand in the long line to get into a huge band party. My friend Brian, from high school, is on the list. We get to the desk where everyone signs in; my friend confidently says who he knows, and a few seconds later, we are denied.
“No list, no way getting in,” says the drunken fraternity brother.
Brian gets an irritated look on his face. Embarrassed and irritated myself, I grab a few other people that were accompanying us, and leave. We walk to a gray, stone fraternity house another friend was at the night before. Two brothers were standing outside watching the door. Their names, as I was about to find out, were Mouse and Dietz.
“Hey, my name is Lisa, are you guys partying tonight,” I ask throwing a big smile in the direction of the brother in charge of watching the door with hopes that we can get into the party.
Waiting for a response, I look around to try to figure out exactly where we are. My friends are told that the house is closed because a policeman is waiting in the parking lot for suspicious activity. I ask when they will be open. We are told that the next night they will be having a band party, and that we can come out then. The one guy, named Dietz, then forces us to leave. He emphasizes that the cop will start trouble if we stay.
And so, after that conversation, we left, ready to go back the next night for the party.
Leaving the parking lot of that unknown house, I decided that Dietz was pretty cute, in fact, very cute and despite the fact he wanted us to leave, very nice. His green eyes, goatee, thin body, brown hair, and sweet smile attracted me to him in an instant. There was only one obstacle in the way of actually starting a relationship, that barrier would have to be my boyfriend of two years who happened to be stationed in Fort Riley, Kansas. My army boy, the skater that I knew in high school who turned into a disciplined man, the guy I supposedly was in love with, the guy who was waiting for me on the phone as I walked into the door of my dorm room late that night. The very beginnings of the feeling of guilt spread through my body, sending shivers up my spine.

“Hello,” I said hesitantly. Hoping that this would be a friendly call, since for the past week or so we have been fighting, I took a deep breath and waited for a reply. However, this reply was harsh in tone and my good mood changed dramatically into one that always surfaced during phone conversations with him. “Where the HELL have you been? I called four times and you weren’t home, where were you!” My eyes lids clenched tight trying to hold back the tiny tears that had formed. I told him I went out partying with some friends, one of which was his brother. I figured if I mentioned the presence of his brother he wouldn’t think anything suspicious. After all, his brother was given explicit instructions to watch me and monitor every action I make or word I say. Mike, my boyfriend, calmed down slightly, I told him in a quiet manner that I was tired and needed sleep. He reacted poorly, replying with his