"Here's to Mitch driving our drunk asses hometonight!" Julia countered.
And with that, Elizabeth sipped her champagne,wondering if anything could be more perfect. Mitch faded into thebackground, talking with some people he knew from work. Elizabethand Julia mingled, and ate. And Julia drank. Elizabeth did notdrink much anymore, and didn't want to get sloppy drunk at such anice event. After a while, Mitch re-appeared to claim his wife.Elizabeth watched with some envy as he led her by the hand out ontothe dance floor. Julia was stumbling slightly, but Mitch was there,supporting her. She wished Peter were here to dance with her. Thenshe remembered that the last time they had danced had been theirwedding. Peter didn't dance, and really didn't care that Elizabethloved to dance. In a former life, she had wanted to be on Broadway,singing and dancing. He didn't care that she had danced for fifteenyears before she met him. He hated dancing. She was sure if hecould have gotten away without dancing even at their wedding hewould have. It was all about what he wanted, never about what madeher happy. And it would always be that way. With that bitterrealization, that yet another one of her dreams had vaporized, shegrabbed another glass of champagne from a passing tray and quicklydowned it.
Elizabeth could not stand to watch Mitch andJulia anymore, jealousy threatening to tear her apart, and she wentinside the house to use the restroom. After going to the bathroomoff the kitchen, Elizabeth spent a minute just staring at herselfin the mirror. She looked great, at least for her. Why didn't Peternotice her more? Why didn't he want to make her happy? Why didn'tit matter more to him that he didn't make her happy? She shook herhead, reapplied her lip gloss, which promised to plump and firm,and exited the bathroom. She was still fussing with her purse,putting her lip gloss away, and didn't see that someone was tryingto enter as she was exiting. She ran smack into a solid chest,dropping her purse, scattering its contents all over the polishedcherry floor.
"Sorry, sorry," she mumbled, squatting down totry to collect her belongings. Thankfully, she was not carryingtampons or anything like that to embarrass her. She saw that theman she had plowed into was also squatting down, making quick workof replacing her purse's contents. She finally looked up, and sawwho had been in her way.
"Oh, hey, Jack." Her face flushed as she stoodup. He likewise resumed a standing position, holding onto her elbowto steady her as she wobbled. Heels and champagne were not a goodcombination, especially when literally running into such a surprisevisitor. Jack looked uneasy to see her. It was Elizabeth who shouldfeel uneasy. She dropped her head, and stared at hertoes.
"How – are – things?" He was definitelyhesitant in speaking to her.
"Okay, I guess."
Jack cocked his head to the side."Okay?"
"No, really, things are good. I'm justflustered at seeing you here, and almost knocking you over. God, Ishouldn't be allowed out in public. I'm such a disaster. You knowthat. I'm just lucky I'm not wearing my dinner down the front ofme."
That statement, meant to lighten the mood, onlymade it heavier as Jack could not help himself but glance up anddown Elizabeth's body, pausing at her breasts to drink in thesights. Elizabeth was immediately uncomfortable, and crossed herarms, trying to cover her chest. They were standing awkwardly inthe hall, facing each other. Elizabeth seemed unable to move. Shecould not stop looking at Jack. She wished she could turn away, butshe couldn't. God, he really was handsome. His eyes just drew herin. They just stood there, neither one able to speak, neither onewanting to move. One, then another, then another person steppedbetween them trying to access the bathroom. Finally, Jack brokefree of Elizabeth's gaze, and moved, saying, "Let's go find a placeto sit and talk."
Elizabeth nodded. As much as she didn't want tohave this talk, she needed to. She followed him through thekitchen, into a sitting room, and outside onto a small veranda.There were a few smaller tables set up, with lanterns providing asoft glow. Arms still folded across her chest, she accepted as hepulled a chair out for her and sat down. Why was he here? How couldthis be happening? Why now, when things finally seemed to be comingtogether for Elizabeth?
Jack broke the silence. "Are you mad atme?"
That was not what Elizabeth expected him tolead off with. She shook her head in confusion. How could sheexplain that she was mortified about what she had nearly done? Hewas the only soul who knew that she had wanted to die. That she hadgiven up all hope, and tried to lay down and freeze to death. Itwas her rock-bottom moment, and he had witnessed it. What if hesaid something to someone?
She started fidgeting with some greens thatwere decorating the table. "That weekend was the worst time in mylife."
"Gee, thanks."
Elizabeth looked up at his teasing blue eyesand could not help but smile slightly. "No, I mean, I never toldanyone – not even Peter– and I don't want anyone –" She broke off,dropping her head. In a low voice, she finally continued, "I'm notvery proud that I tried to commit suicide. And that I couldn't evendo that right."
"Don't talk like that! You dying that nightwould have been a tragedy like no other."
"You know, before, I would have not believedyou, but you’re right."
Jack wanted to laugh, but he couldn't. "Whatmakes you say that?"
"About two weeks after I, um, my, whatever,that weekend, my daughter's appendix ruptured. She almost died.Peter was asleep and didn't hear her crying. He's terrible in acrisis anyway. He wouldn't have known what to do, and most likelySydney would have died that night."
The gravity of her statement hung in the thicksummer air.
"You know, in all this time, I've just beentrying to put that weekend out of my mind and never think about it.Some parts of it are really pretty splotchy. But I never thoughtabout the fact
