I gave in. What else could I do? I was at the mercy of my ride.
Jack Campbell’s party was in full swing. Cars lined the street, and the bass reached our ears before exiting the vehicle. I froze, a tremble shuddering through me. Jack was a popular football player. Even though Alec had graduated the year before, what if he showed up? I couldn’t handle it.
Mary grabbed the door handle. “Come on. What are you waiting for?”
Reassurance, a luxury I wouldn’t get.
I tagged along behind Mary as we entered the house. I didn’t recognize many people, and the majority were seniors, adding to my unease. We forged on in search of booze and friends.
“Whoa!” I said.
Mary stopped. “What?”
“It feels like I’m floating.” The effects of the muscle relaxer had kicked in.
She laughed. “Me, too.”
We found the keg, poured two beers and found a spot to lean against the wall.
“Check him out, a stone fox!” Mary said.
“Go get him, sister.” My lips struggled to form the words.
Mary never left, perhaps due to the volume of gorgeous guys parading by us. Being near the keg yielded multiple benefits. I downed my first beer and filled up a second, followed by a third. The combination of alcohol and the muscle relaxer made me spacey and unsteady.
“Let’s see if we can find some friends,” Mary said.
In the dining room, we found Roger Homely with a small crowd. I swiftly clocked the room for Michelle but didn’t see her. We weren’t friends anymore, a thought consuming me with utter sadness in seconds. Roger sat at the head of a table crowded with people playing a drinking game. I concentrated—a joke in my state—but couldn’t figure it out. Each player strummed their fingers on the edge of the table but sometimes stopped to make strange motions before returning their fingers to the table edge to strum it like a drum again. Eventually, a player was “it” and had to drink.
“Trapani! What’s up, girl?”
“Not much, Rog. How’ve you been?”
“Never better. Ever played Thumper?”
I shook my head.
“Want in?”
Mary said yes, but I hesitated. How could I possibly learn a complicated new game in my condition? I could barely remember my name.
He glanced up from under his long blazing hair. “Don’t be a chicken. Pull up a chair.”
We squeezed in around the table.
“Let me tell you how it’s done. Come up with some kind of gesture for yourself. We all have one. Just use your hands to touch your face or shoulder or make a peace sign, or whatever you want. Then commit it to memory. During the game, if you see somebody make your sign, you have to make your sign followed by another person’s, and if they miss it, they drink. If someone makes your sign and you miss it, you drink. The rest of the time, just keep your fingers on the table, like this.”
Players strummed the table while taking turns demonstrating their respective gestures. Roger’s was touching his ear. Another guy pressed the top of his head. One girl put an “okay” sign by her boob. I decided to go with a “thumbs up” in front of my chest, figuring I wouldn’t forget it. Mary picked scratching her cheek.
For our benefit, the group did a practice round. It didn’t help much. I drank several times in a row until I started to get the hang of it. If you didn’t pay attention, you missed your sign. It was also easy to mess up doing your own gesture, especially drunk. Beer after beer went down my throat, and I got lost in the fun.
“What the fuck are you doing?”
I whirled around and faced Pete, looking mad as hell.
“Hi, honey!” I stood up and leaned to give him a kiss.
He grabbed my wrists and kept me at bay. “I said, what the fuck are you doing?”
I had to think a minute. Pete. Boyfriend. Party. “Partying!”
“I can see that. Why are you here and not at Nate’s?
“Hmm…we were at that party, but…but then, um, oh yeah! It was bo-ring.” My words slurred and I struggled to put together a sentence.
“So you left? That’s great. And now you’re drunk? Nice.”
“I figgered you’d come here. And here you are!”
“I’m taking you home.”
“Whaaaah? No. I’m staying at…someone’s…Mary’s!” I swayed, losing my balance.
Pete caught me. “You’re pathetic.”
“Why’re you being so meeeean?” The room began to spin.
“I don’t appreciate being stood-up.”
“It’s nah like I did it intenchilly…” I wavered, struggling to keep upright.
“Whatever. You’re a drunken mess, and I’m too pissed off to be around you. I’m leaving.”
“Honeeeey, nooooo! Don’ go.” I grabbed for him, but he didn’t stop. I fell, the room whirled, and bile rose up my throat.
35
Country Club
Roger came from nowhere, yanking me up and forcing me into the backyard. “Breathe, Anna. Inhale some fresh air.”
I tried gulping in the night breeze but gagged. I staggered to the side and fell onto a pruned bush, and everything on my insides came roaring up my throat. The contents ejected from my mouth with such force, I teetered on the plant. I grasped the nearby grill, gagging and spitting until I believed with hopeful certainty it was over. The world spun. I struggled upright and managed to slump into one of the now-empty lawn chairs—any poor soul sitting there surely vacated once the barfing girl had shown up to provide The Greatest Show on Earth. Mary arrived with a wet paper towel, which I gratefully accepted to wipe my face.
“That was horble,” I said.
Mary nodded, smoothing some of my hair into place. “Feeling better now?”
“A lil’.”
“What happened with Pete?”
Pete! “He was pissed, pissed, pissed, so he left.” I stuck my tongue out and blew
