‘I’ll stick some of these in the summerhouse.’
I opened the door to the summerhouse and found the warm afternoon had turned it into a sauna as I was greeted by a waft of hot air. I stood and looked around at what I had created, and I felt a swell of pride. The same swell of pride I had felt when all three girls had oohed and ahhed at how beautiful it looked and what an eye for interiors I had. Even Karen, who had become so awkward around me.
I blew up three balloons and stuck them to the front door. I Blu-Tacked a banner above it, then stood back to admire my handy work. I looked once again inside the summerhouse and I realised with all the commotion in the clothes store I had forgotten to pick up the table. I looked at the time on my phone and saw that it was getting on for five o’clock. It was too late to rush back for it now.
I was drawn back into the warmth of the summerhouse, and I sunk into the new chair and drank in the warm afternoon sun. I found myself thinking about Will, wondering if I should have invited him. Perhaps having him here would give me some support? He had shown interest when I had mentioned the party. But then I thought about the horrors of the clothes shop that afternoon, and I shuddered at the memory. I would get through this. I needed to do it, to thrust myself amongst people and try to start leading a normal life, one that wasn’t filled with dread and fear.
People started arriving from 6 p.m. I was upstairs getting ready, which these days didn’t involve a lot of effort. I changed into the new shirt, which now already held bad memories of the store where I bought it, but I tried to push that image from my head. I opened and shut the window six times, brushed my teeth for a full thirty-four seconds, then I ripped off yesterday’s sheets and threw them in the corner. I had already brought up the fresh sheets, and so I went about making the flat sheet as taut as possible with nice, neat hospital corners. I then went about lining the pillows up so that they sat perfectly and placed two cushions neatly next to one another. I could hear voices travelling up the stairs and into my room. Finally, when I knew I couldn’t stay in the bedroom any more, I went to the door, unlocked and locked it six times, then I headed downstairs.
There was a crowd forming in the kitchen, and music was playing from a docking station. A few people I had never met before were standing next to the fridge. Mini was standing in her pink figure-hugging mini dress, pouring orangey-looking drinks from a dispenser. She looked up as I entered.
‘Oh, Regi, come and try some of my punch. I probably over did it on the rum – let me know what you think?’ She giggled and handed me a glass. ‘You look lovely. Cute shirt.’
I took a drink and thanked her. Yes, she had overdone it on the rum, but luckily rum was… had been… one of my favourite spirits.
I was thrust back to a happy time, with someone I thought I loved, who I thought loved me, by my side. I took another long sip and tried to drown the memories as I could feel the strength of the alcohol do its thing. I thought about putting the glass down; I could just pretend for the rest of the evening, fill my glass with lemonade and let people think I was drinking vodka. I knew that was the sensible choice to make because although the swell of the alcohol in my body was giving me the lift I needed right now, tomorrow would be a different story. But Mini filled my glass up again, and somehow it kept finding its way to my lips as I stood in the kitchen trying to wash away the uncomfortable sensation of mixing with strangers.
Mini moved us all into the lounge to show off her handy work and there were a few whoops of glee from her young friends who were clearly taken with her artistic skills. She threw me a coy glance and I sent her a wink back. She had managed to do a great job with the decorations. Big, thick streamers hung from each side of the large mirror whilst bunting adorned the centre. Balloons sat in threes, as I suggested, on lampshades, over the doorway, on coffee-table legs and against chair legs whilst the small, shiny happy birthday banners were splattered diagonally. In the corner, someone had set up a strip of disco lights and a plug-in disco ball. There was a fold-up table with a set of decks on it. I realised things hadn’t changed very much since I was this age. Young people of every generation have generally done things the same. A party is a party so long as there are lights, decorations, booze and guests.
By 9 p.m., the house was heaving. I had no idea that between them, Sophia, Mini and Karen had so many friends. I guessed I was looking at friends of friends, acquaintances, bums-on-seats, anything to fill the house and make it feel like a real party. Which it did. I had moved between rooms for what had felt like hours, always finding myself with a drink in hand, occasionally engaging in stunted conversations only for them to be drowned out by the booming music or a rowdy guest. I seemed to lose all sense of what was going on. It suddenly felt so late. I was standing in the hallway when I realised I was more drunk than I had intended to get. I looked at the doorway to the lounge and began to sway along to
