In Silhouette

On the cobblestone street in De Wallen, Alexis stands beside her friend Hannah and the two men who’ve just bought them a round of drinks. The glare of the streetlamps brightens the men’s faces: Greg and Dustin, American finance professionals visiting their company’s Dutch office. Although they’ve only been acquainted for an hour, the four of them have shared enough travel anecdotes, sparked the prerequisite chemistry, to decide they’ll continue together to the next spot. In her two months in Europe, Alexis has come to learn that such easy friendships are common amongst her backpacking, hostel-hopping set.

Outside the bar, the crisp night air entices them towards the next adventure.

“Have you ladies walked through the Red Light District?” asks Dustin, the taller of the two men.

“Not yet,” Alexis says noncommittally. She’s not sure she wants to go but doesn’t want to appear prudish.

“Let’s go tonight!” Hannah says a little too loudly. Her eyes light up, and Alexis tries to calculate how many drinks her friend has had so far. “What do you say, Alexis?”

“It’s just a few streets over.” Dustin motions to the right, waiting for a consensus.

“Maybe we could walk by it,” says Alexis. “If it’s not too crowded.”

Hannah bounds ahead. They turn right, down the narrow alleyway rambling through De Wallen. Though Alexis is intrigued by this city’s obsession with sex – from the dozens of stores selling vibrators to an actual sex museum – she’s too afraid, too intimidated at what she might see, to walk through the thick of it.

There’s barely room for the four of them to stroll side by side on the slender street, so Alexis hangs back with Dustin. She likes his easy self-assuredness, his relaxed pace. She enjoys ambling aimlessly through unfamiliar cities, too, but she envies the subtle confidence with which he walks these foreign streets.

“What do you think of Amsterdam?” Alexis asks him.

“I could get used to it.” She can see he’s thinking about her question, not just answering to keep talking. “I bought a used bike I ride everywhere. The pace is nice here, not as fast as in New York, slow enough to hear yourself think.”

He slows his place and meets her eyes. “So, what’s your story? What brings you to Europe?”

She likes the open-endedness of the question, how he doesn’t try to peg her as something right away – a peace corps volunteer, an exchange student, an ex-pat on a gap year.

“Au pairing in Paris.” She doesn’t mention the ex-boyfriend she’s trying to forget about. Or the promising job offer she left behind at an architecture firm. She’s still not sure if this year abroad is an adventure or escape, or a little of both.

“For how long?”

“Two months so far.”

She can hear the flatness in her voice as she tells him she’s staying for a year. In the depths of his blue eyes, Alexis sees him trying to figure her out, and she decides to help him.

“It doesn’t make sense to people that I’m doing this,” she says.

He nods, and Alexis watches him determine his next question. “Does it make sense to you?”

“As much as any job, any choice, can make sense right now.”

They reach the end of the alleyway that deposits them at a wider road running alongside the canal. Away from the harsh light in the pub windows, the night sky is ripe with silky stars and the sense of the unexpected. Out of the corner of her eye, Alexis sees Hannah and Greg a few paces back, turning the opposite way.

“I get it,” Dustin says, as they climb the steps to the top of the bridge.

“You do?”

Alexis gazes out at the water. The champagne glow of streetlights reflects back at her in the smooth, ripple-less surface.

“The world wants everything to fit into a neat little box that your parents, your boss, your partner,” – he lingers on this word – “can understand.”

“I don’t have a partner.” The word lodges like a lump in her throat. Why did she take the bait?

“I’m surprised. I imagine a woman like you won’t stay single for long, though.”

Her chest clenches. What if she wants to stay single? His assumption irks her more than it should.

“I sure hope I do.” She blows a flyaway hair out of her face and looks straight at Dustin. He tilts his head, as if figuring out how he wants to respond, and she decides she doesn’t care what he’s thinking.

On the other side of the bridge, Alexis sees Hannah filming the scenery with her phone, slowly pivoting her body 360 degrees so she can capture all angles of the red-lit backdrop, from the crimson streetlights to the blazing rosé windows. Hannah pauses as she points her phone at Alexis, her eyes peeking out from above it as she waves. Alexis waves back as Hannah scurries over to her.

“This is insane. I had no idea this place would live up to the hype,” Hannah says.

She trips and loses her balance. Alexis can’t tell if it’s because of the uneven cobblestones or her friend’s tipsiness.

“It’s wild alright,” agrees Dustin.

The streets are more crowded now as throngs of tourists and onlookers dot the sides of the canals. Clusters of men stop and stare at each storefront, gawking at the backlit forms of women that have suddenly appeared in the windows. The four of them move along past the traffic jam to another display. A trio of women each in a different color of lingerie stands on platforms on the other side of the glass like mannequins in a boutique window. Hannah pulls out her phone and snaps a photo.

“I don’t think we’re supposed to do that,” Alexis says quietly.

The woman on the right side of the setup inside, the silver medal spot on the podium, glares at Hannah. Makeup is caked on her face and pink powder dusts her eyelids.

“She’s looking at us.” Alexis elbows Hannah. “They don’t want pictures.”

The woman’s surly expression vanishes as she casts more coquettish glances at her admirers.

“Relax.” Hannah pulls away. She pushes out of the horde of tourists, stumbles over to another bridge, and sits on its steps.

“I’m going to check on her,” Alexis says to Dustin and Greg. She walks over to the steps and perches next to Hannah.

“I’m tired. How about we go back to the hostel?” Alexis says in the most gentle, casual tone she can muster. She’s aware of Dustin and Greg drifting closer to them, listening.

“We’ll go with you.” Dustin turns towards the women, stepping into their private moment. “Our extended stay place is by Noorderpark, too. We can all get the train.”

Hannah’s eyes glaze past her friend and their new companions. She stands and climbs uneasily up the few steps to the top of the bridge.

“This is Amsterdam! The best city in the world.” She raises her arms above her head, sways, then steadies herself with the handrail. “We’re going to be famous tonight. They’re all… watching us!” She taps on her phone in an exaggerated, imprecise motion, then points at Greg. “You! Want to live like an influencer? Come with me! Everyone, follow me!”

Alexis sighs. “Walk next to her,” she mutters to Greg under her breath. “Keep her steady. We’ve gotta get back to the hostel.”

They cross the bridge, past more fluorescent windows and gaggles of onlookers. Something catches Dustin and Greg’s attention, and they pause at the next display of women in the windows.

“Someone’s about to get lucky,” Hannah trills.

“Can’t really call it luck when you’re walking through the Red Light District,” says Greg.

Hannah ignores him. Her hazy eyes dart across the growing crowd before landing back on a man near the display windows.

The man has broken through the pack to approach the side door by the windows that frame the women, boxing them in like Barbie dolls. The woman he’s approaching – a brunette adorned in baby blue lingerie, a rose tattoo peeking out from the top of her underwear – turns and opens the door to speak to him. More people are packing in around the four of them. Hannah hoots at the exchange they’re all watching.

Alexis’s throat constricts. She blinks and sees her ex, Jack’s face in the crowd. But the man she’s looking at is too tall, his face too narrow. She shakes her head, as if she could shake off Jack’s memory. Of course, it isn’t him; she sees him everywhere since their breakup. Her eyes dart back to the woman in the baby blue at the side door. The piece of auburn hair she tucks behind her ear reminds Alexis of her. It was one of her signature gestures— a little tick she had when settling into a rhythm at the start of her lectures. Jack, her professor, the incident. It all swirls behind her eyes, blurring Alexis’s vision when she thinks too hard about it. She steps back from the crowd.

“Get it!” Hannah shouts at the men as they approach the sex workers. “Woot! Woot!”

Hannah pulls a flask out of her pocket and takes a conspicuous sip. Alexis’s shoulders tense. She’s never felt like such a tacky American.

“That’s enough!” She grabs Hannah’s forearm. “We’re going back to the hostel.” She hates being the “responsible one,” caretaker of the drunk.

“Ooouch!” Hannah whines. “You’re hurting me.”

“You’re going to get us kicked out of the Red Light District,” Alexis says.

Is that even possible? It sounds absurd, but she considers Hannah’s flask, her filming of the sex workers, her obvious drunkenness. She notices a policeman at the end of the street and quickly plots their path around him as they leave.

***

At the train station, the red block letters with their train’s information have disappeared from the departure board. The last train to their hostel has left.

“We’ll have to get a cab.” Alexis is desperate to lie down in the twin bunk bed of their dorm-style room.

“We’ll get one together,” says Dustin.

Alexis hesitates. She doesn’t want him to swoop in, isn’t interested in being saved tonight.

“We’re all going to the same part of town,” Dustin says. He has an expression of confusion or concern or something Alexis can’t quite read.

“Okay, fine.” She doesn’t have the energy to argue.

In front of the train station, Dustin waves down a cabbie and the group piles in. Alexis gives the cab driver the name of their hostel, then the driver circles around the train station onto the road that hugs the harbor. Hannah babbles on about her Instagram stories, how much her followers loved her content from the Red Light District – that ridiculous social media speak. Then, she turns on the camera and starts filming them in selfie mode, prompting a splitting pain at the base of Alexis’s skull.

“Guys! We just left the Red Light District, and let me tell you, that was wild! I’m going back to the hostel now with our new friends. Greg, say hi to everyone!”

Greg waves and smiles at Hannah’s phone. Alexis stares out the window.

“And this is one of my best friends, Alexis.” Hannah’s voice is saccharine. “Lex, you’re on camera. Say hi!”

Alexis’s face is still tilted away. Her teeth clench behind closed lips.

“Are you having fun, Lex?” Hannah says in her made-for-Instagram voice. “How much do you love Amsterdam?”

Alexis wonders if her anger, her frustration, is really wafting over Hannah’s self-centered head. “You don’t really want me to answer that?”

“Of course, I do. Why wouldn’t I?” Hannah giggles, recording still on.

Alexis feels the men react to the shifting energy. The air hardens and everything seems to sharpen until she no longer cares about keeping the peace with Hannah or being palatable for these guys.

Alexis shrugs. “I guess my favorite part would be babysitting my sloppy-drunk friend all night. It was a good thing we left the Red Light District when we did because that cop had his eye on you.”

Hannah’s face is expressionless as she puts her phone down, shoves it in her jacket pocket for what seems like the first time in days. The silence intensifies and Greg, who is sitting beside them, looks pointedly forward. Alexis doesn’t know what she expected to feel after berating her friend on camera, but she only feels empty, deflated.

The driver slows to a stop. “Here we are, Amsterdam Noord Hostel.”

Dustin hands him a wad of cash as the rest of the group crawls out of the back seat. Alexis tries to hand him some euros for the ride, but Dustin brushes them away, and it feels overly dramatic to make a point about such a small sum.

“What the hell, Alexis?” Hannah scowls, meanness seeping from her narrowed eyes.

Alexis’s face heats up and guilt churns in her stomach, but she can’t make herself say she’s sorry.

Thankfully, Greg speaks. “Let’s just delete the video, it’s not too late.” He stands next to Hannah, takes her phone, and starts fiddling with it. Alexis overhears their mumbled, fractured phrases. “That’s it,” “Just this section,” “Look, hardly anyone’s seen it.” And then:

Hannah throws her arms around his neck, plants a sloppy kiss on his cheek that lands too close to his ear. “You’re literally my hero, Greg!”

A dumbstruck smile forms on Greg’s face.

Hannah gazes past Alexis. “Well, for anyone who’s not an uptight bitch, I’ll be at the pub next door.”

A wordless exchange flits between Greg and Dustin. Then, Greg follows Hannah into the bar leaving Alexis and Dustin.

“Don’t worry,” Dustin says. “Greg’s a good guy. He won’t try anything.”

Alexis nods. She can practically see through the pub windows, and she will check on Hannah later. She has no emotional reserves left to worry like she normally would, or to negotiate an awkward goodbye with Dustin. She turns towards the hostel. As someone exits from the front door, the sound of laughter floats outside.

“Wait –” Dustin jaunts to meet Alexis at the door. “Are you okay?”

She can see into the depths of his eyes for the first time tonight. Despite his slightly sexist assumptions, his knight-in-shining-armor tendencies, there is something about him she doesn’t hate.

She pivots to face him. “I will be.”

“Okay. If you need anything while you’re here, or if you ever want to meet up – here’s my info. You can call me, or email.”

He pulls a business card out of his wallet. This gesture strikes her as almost endearing, the nature of it without presumptions. Dustin Greene, Senior Analyst. A job title as vague as the way she feels about him.

“Thanks,” she says. “I’m not usually such an asshole, just for the record.”

“I never said you were.”

“That was shitty of me, what I said back there. Wasn’t it?”

Alexis kicks herself internally for phrasing it as a question. Like she needs male confirmation that she’s a shit friend.

“Maybe a little.” He shrugs. “But she wasn’t exactly making your life easy tonight.”

“Hannah’s been my best friend since middle school.” Alexis wants to explain things to him, now. His absence of judgment gives her the courage to keep talking. She thinks of all the things she and Hannah have been through together, Hannah always slightly ahead of her. First periods, first school dances, first boyfriends.

“When I broke up with my ex, Hannah was the one who made me see what a loser he was. He was cheating on me with one of our Architecture professors.” Bitterness inches its way into Alexis’s voice.

She’s forced to go through it all in her head again, the downward spiral that’s taken her months to stop reliving. Her role model, her teacher. The woman she admired with the man she loved. Alexis had wanted to be that woman someday. She had everything Alexis was busting her ass for in grad school, but what was the point? Her boyfriend was a liar. Her mentor, a fraud. It was easier for Alexis to take herself out of the game altogether. She would finish her master’s degree, but after that who knew? Then, Hannah came along. Come to Europe with me, she’d said. It had been so easy to say yes to her childhood best friend.

Dustin looks at her, letting the silence expand between them instead of filling it with meaningless words. Alexis has almost worked herself up to tears, and then the tears fall. A few of them drip down her cheeks before she wipes them away.

“He sounds like an ass.” It's a trite response to a breakup, but Alexis still feels a smile pinch her cheeks.

“Obviously.” Alexis wipes her teary eyes on her shirt sleeve.

Dustin’s smiling now, too. He takes a step closer to Alexis. The two of them are standing next to a bench outside the hostel, but she doesn’t sit because sitting feels too inviting, too committal. Dustin follows her lead.

“Hannah was the one who got me through that whole mess. She made me see I needed to distance myself from everything that happened in grad school. Leave it behind and start over – that’s what she said. And it made sense at the time. So, I followed her here. She helped me move on. Then look what I do in return.”

“She helped you through a rough patch. Doesn’t mean you have to put up with her bullshit. And maybe, you don’t have to completely start over.”

Alexis nods and with this realization, full body fatigue sets in. The buzz from the beers has worn off and exhaustion trickles into its place. She steps towards him, drifts closer, until her lips meet his. She presses her chest into his, and he wraps his arms around her, kissing her back.

When they break apart, he looks surprised, but he’s grinning. He touches Alexis’s hand.

“I’ll call you.” She holds up the business card that’s still in her other hand but doesn’t move towards the door.

“Do you want to go next door and check on your friend?”

His concern for her is touching and unexpected. Maybe not all his presumptions are bad, or a product of outdated chivalry.

“I don’t know.” Alexis shifts her weight from one hip to the other as she glances towards the pub. “I should make sure she’s okay.”

“How about I give Greg a call?” Dustin suggests, and Alexis is grateful he reads her so well.

“Okay.”

He calls Greg, asks a few questions about how long they’ll be staying and if Hannah’s alright. Alexis can make out silhouetted figures through the window of the pub. She imagines Hannah in there laughing and flirting with Greg. Fun, unburdened, what men like.

Dustin’s voice cuts through her thoughts: “Greg’s having her drink water. Nothing to worry about, she’s sobering up. He’ll make sure she gets back alright.”

Tomorrow, Alexis will face Hannah. She’ll apologize and Hannah will forgive her – maybe not right away, but eventually. Hannah will change her ways, or she won’t. Alexis will learn to expect less of her friend, or she won’t. They’ll adapt to each other in a way that allows their friendship to go on, or it will fade away into memory – something she might look back on fondly one day. But Alexis can’t think about that right now.

Now, Alexis studies Dustin. His eyes fasten steadily on her. The glow of the lamplight casts a shadow across his face, illuminating his lips that are tilted gently into a half smile – a question. She sits down on the bench and leans against its hard metal back, waiting for a moment before Dustin sits beside her.