Aliens and Dates

❝You know the only good thing about dating someone like the Joker? Now I can spot all the Red Flags! It's a joke. Laugh, Goddamnit!❞

I LOOKED AT MY REFLECTION in the large mirror next to my single bed for what must have been the thirteenth time in under ten minutes. I observed how the blood-red fabric contrasted perfectly with my always strangely pale skin, admiring it silently for a considerable time, hoping that my date for the day would appreciate it as much as I did.

Now that I thought of it, and remembered that the sun was still high above the city that never sleeps, for a fleeting moment I almost tore off the dress, threw it to the floor without a second glance, and put on something more casual, feeling suddenly ridiculous for wearing such an extravagant outfit on an ordinary weekday like Tuesday.

However, as quickly as the thought crossed my mind, it vanished. I refused to forgo the damn fabric that, quite literally, wasn't even mine. It belonged to a store so expensive it could make my entire apartment look like a kid's toy shop.

I was wearing this dress, even if it ruined all my chances with Patricia R. Wayne.

Yes, it was ironic in so many ways that my potential girlfriend's (yes, (I wouldn't go that far most of the time, but I like to dream big) last name was the same as Batman's in my other reality.

Yes, I knew. You'd have to be an idiot not to connect the dots. And no, Selina Kyle wasn't exactly the most reliable person to keep a secret after a few drinks on a girls' night out.

Pamela also had mastered concocting a truth serum using the right materials after breaking into a lab notorious for unethical animal testing in southern Mexico.

The memory made me smile—a nostalgic smile, tinged with longing and a happiness I hadn't felt for a long time when reminiscing about my old life: happiness.

Thinking about my two favorite girls was one of the main reasons I spent many nights crying my eyes out into my sheets and my faded walls falling apart, but I believe that, nowadays, it hurts a lot less to remember them.

These days, I could genuinely hope they were happy wherever they were. Maybe Selina had finally tied the knot with Bruce, as she'd talked about incessantly months before I left (years now, but who's counting?), adopted all the Bat kids as her own, or even had kids of her own.

And maybe Pamela had finally gotten humanity to realize how much damage it was doing to nature and inspired people to change their destructive habits, but I would never know.

But even in the dark, I held onto hope that everything turned out alright. Those girls deserved all the happiness in the world. I know it.

With a tight smile, without a single tooth showing through my red-painted lips, I looked at myself one last time in the mirror, banishing the memories of my old life as quickly as possible before a single tear ruined my makeup — which, by the way, took me three hours to do because collecting free samples wasn't exactly my idea of ​​shopping before going on a date.

I was broke. I knew that. After all, my rent was three months overdue, and the only reason I hadn't been evicted by the grumpy old landlord was that his wife adored me too much to let me end up on the streets.

Thankfully, the ladies found me adorable and quite fun to be around, they fed me cookies and pinched my cheeks so hard that I almost doubted their fragile bone structure, or I would be reverting to my second nature to at least be able to eat something. But at least I was drop-dead gorgeous!

Not actually dying, obviously. However if I found a weak enough heart, I might even give them a heart attack with my beauty.

Shit, I almost forgot about the date, damn it, Harley!

Turning on my heels in an act of more than anxiety, I ran a little through my small apartment, checking everything as quickly as I could, to make sure that everything was properly turned off and that there was no risk of my place catching fire while I was away.

I ran to my room twice, looked at the bathroom, the living room as tiny as the little room I used to hang my clothes out to dry, and finally made it to the tiny kitchen, grabbing a couple of muffins from last week and some sweet cookies to at least satisfy my hunger a little, knowing that I had less than thirty dollars in my wallet to be able to buy myself some coffee for my date.

Almost certain that everything was off, I smiled to myself, with a little bit of lipstick between my lips, knowing that if my lipstick ever smudged, I had some in my bag, which was hanging over my shoulder.

Then I left the house as quickly as I could, running with some difficulty in the dress that almost reached my ankles, swearing under my breath a few times along the way, while almost falling face down on the ground several times when I bumped into some New Yorker who was on his way to work without meaning to, but fortunately not.

I apologized to people. Not everyone, of course. Mom taught me manners, but if people didn't receive them either, I chose to show them my beautiful middle finger.

Why did I have to choose such a long dress, damn it?! Will I never learn my lesson?!

No. Clearly not.

When I walked through the door of the café, ignoring the sharp noise made by the bell hanging above the door, I looked around for a brief moment and was disappointed when I didn't see my date. I went to one of the tables and sat down quickly, politely declining when one of the waitresses came to me, asking me if I wanted to place my order.

The minutes passed, becoming almost forty minutes according to the clock hanging behind the café counter, and Patrícia still didn't show up, not even sending a simple message to let me know she was going to be late, which left me, unsurprisingly, a little down.

I picked up the somewhat old cell phone that my parents had given me a little less than six years ago, waiting with the pathetic expectation that there would be at least one message in our chat. Unfortunately, there wasn't even an emoji or goodbye to let me know that I had been stood up, which made me feel even worse.

I could almost feel myself wilting in my chair, feeling like a complete idiot for thinking that, for once, things would start to work out.

I was trying to get a new job, even if it was temporary, so that I could at least pay my back rent, and I was thinking about trying to start being more positive after being fired from my third job in six months (which paid me a pittance, by the way), but it was clear that I wasn't even capable of doing that.

I felt anger start to bubble inside my chest, especially knowing that I couldn't be late for another rent payment, and would unfortunately have to go back to my 'parents' house, hear the implicit pity always present in their voices, and crawl into the family business.

— "Hey, Harly, sorry I'm late. I ended up staying up late because of my work. My sister had a bad fall on the stairs at home and we had to take her to the hospital by car."

The new voice I heard, along with a new presence sitting next to me was enough to stop all my thoughts, especially when I knew that voice perfectly: it was Patricia Wayne! Hadn't she stood me up?

Raising my chin with anxiety overflowing at the simple action, the first thing I noticed was how simply beautiful Patricia was; even though I could easily see some strands of her perfectly straight hair standing on end, she was a little sweaty for some reason that, honestly? Wasn't important to me; still, she looked magnificent in my eyes.

— "I'm really sorry, did you wait long?" — Her expression was covered with a very obvious layer of embarrassment, making it even clearer how much she felt bad for making me wait.

Noticing her expression, and not wanting to make her feel even worse, I did nothing more than smile; a smile full of understanding. I smiled warmly, not wanting to make her feel worse. — "It's okay. I just got here a little while ago." — Personally, I've always thought of myself as a great liar. I always have been. I liked to think that in another life, I had been a politician. — "I ended up being late because I had to change my dress. The one I was going to wear ended up ripping, so I grabbed the first one I saw in my closet."

— "I think it looks great on you, although it does make you look a little fat."

I clutched the fabric of the dress under the table with some anger, forcing myself to laugh as naturally as possible afterward, not at all surprised to notice that Patricia had started laughing a little before me.

Very funny, bitch.

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