The Twenty-Year Party

Two red solo cups in hand, I saw them. He was kissing Daphne. My girl. I just stepped away for a moment and she was already making out with that asshole, Richard.

Richard was a football player and looked like one. Tall, dark, and impossibly handsome. I pushed my way through the crowd toward them. Mocking glares and wry smiles surrounded me like demons.

“What the fuck Daphne?”

They stopped making out for a moment. Daphne looked away in second hand embarrassment. Richard stared down at me with a sardonic smile. “Get the fuck outta here, nerd.”

I wanted to throw both solo cups at him. I wanted to smash his face.

I just froze.

“Didn’t you hear what I fucking said?”

I turned and walked away. I left the party and never spoke to her again.

Twenty years later I still heard the laughter. Sometimes it came back so clear I could smell the cheap beer and summer grass.

Why didn’t I kick his ass? Why didn’t I do something?

I disgusted myself.

Who thinks about a stupid girl from college for that long? I’m 40 now.

I hadn’t been to a party since.

I just wished the dreams and the thoughts would stop.

Whoever said time heals all wounds was full of shit.

I walked through my nearly barren bachelor apartment to the pull-out couch, and plopped myself down in my usual spot. I grabbed a cigarette from the pack on the nightstand and thought about the pistol.

The pistol was still in the nightstand, where I’d always kept it. Keeping it out of my mouth had become a ritual.

I lit the smoke and took a long drag. The TV flickered in the darkness. Another god awful show I had no interest in.

Ash dropped onto my bare, fat belly. I half-heartedly wiped it off.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand. Another telemarketer?

Mike from work? How did he get my number?

The text from Mike read, “Hey buddy! Party tonight at my place. You coming?”

Maybe I do need to get out.

I texted back, “Yeah sure. Shoot me the address.”

I put out the cigarette and got myself cleaned up. I went back and forth between deciding just not to show, and telling myself, “Fuck it. Let’s just go,” right up until I finally forced myself out the door.

The house sat on a quiet street. Kids played on the lawns as the streetlights flickered on.

I pulled out a cigarette and lit it, watching the people congregating in front. Some I recognized from work, but most were new faces. I took a couple drags and put it out.

Stop stalling…

I walked up the driveway and gave my best fake smile and a wave to the people holding beers and cocktails around the front door. To say I felt out of place was an understatement.

They kindly returned the wave and greeted me with smiles. I felt myself relax. This wasn’t going to be so bad. I recognized a familiar face and sauntered in his direction.

“Hey Ajax,” Sam said. “Beers are in the kitchen.”

I made my way to the kitchen and popped the top on a cold one. I gripped it hard with my hot clammy hands and chugged the first half.

This ought to help.

For a while I mingled and to my surprise, enjoyed myself. It had been so long since I’d been in an unstructured social setting like a party. It felt great. I kept downing beer after beer, and was able to achieve a pretty good buzz. I was laughing and cracking jokes. Having the best time I’d had as an adult.

Mike put an arm around me. “Hey Ajax! Glad you could make it bud!” I always liked Mike–Everyone did. He was the most congenial guy I’d ever met. I was always in awe of him for it, and a bit jealous. I truly wondered how he made social settings seem so effortless.

I followed Mike to the garage as we made small talk.

A boy of about four stood there eating chips.

Next to him was a man in a wheelchair. I felt like a glass of cold water had been poured on my head when I realized who he was.

Richard.

I approached him with a dopey smile.

“Hey Richard, long time no see! How’ve ya been?” I exuded my best fake enthusiasm; trying not to let on that he had been haunting my dreams.

His chair swiveled to face me. “Ajax? Is that you?”

“Yeah, man. Long time no see.” I repeated idiotically. “What happened to you, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“It’s a long story, man. I had an infection and it didn’t go well for me. Lost feeling in everything up to my chest.”

For twenty years I imagined confronting Richard. I had never imagined this.

The boy clinging to his chair asked, “Daddy, can we go yet?”

Richard answered him. “No champ, not yet. We’re about to eat.”

The boy looked past me, “Mommy! I want to go. I’m bored.”

I turned to where the kid had been looking and I felt the ice water dripping down my spine again.

Daphne.

She was more beautiful than I remembered.

“Honey, you remember Ajax, right?” Richard said.

I gazed into her powder blue eyes, feeling butterflies and profound euphoria. Here she was. The literal girl of my dreams, back in the flesh. I could barely believe it was happening. I wanted to grab her and run.

She studied me for a minute.

“Hmm. I think so, where do I know you from?”

In an instant I felt my dreams crashing down, a sharp pain in my chest.

“College…” my voice breaking.

“Oh right! I think I remember.”

Someone called out from inside. “Food’s ready!”

The party moved into the kitchen. I stood still in that garage, watching Richard wheel his way up the ramp into the kitchen. Daphne held her son’s hand as they walked into the house with everyone else.

I stood there alone in the garage. Listening to the happy din of the party. Frozen again.

Without a word I walked back to my car and started it. I cried the whole way home.

Back inside my apartment I was met with the usual darkness and cold silence. The only light was the TV I’d left on. Love Island played. Even the TV had continued on without me.

I sat back down on the pull-out and lit a cigarette.

The pistol was still where I kept it.

I could almost taste the chrome already.

Twenty years later, I was still at that party.