I wouldn't have come to this party if I knew you would be here.
It's New Year's Eve at Evie's house. There are too many people here for me, but I'm trying not to let it show. The liquor helps. I'm sitting on the kitchen counter, like I always do here, my legs wrapped around Evie's waist, locked at the ankles above my sneakers, and my hand is slung over her shoulder. She's rocking us side to side and we are singing entirely too loud. Evie laughs and kisses my cheek as I take another gulp of punch.
My husband is smiling and snapping pictures of us. We are having fun for the first time in a long time. I like him tonight. Sometimes we don't always like each other, but tonight we've been laughing like the old days, and the smile in his eyes is making my heart flutter.
Why did you have to end up here tonight?
We'd been so careful, you and I. How did we somehow miss this convergence? All of our conversations, our carefully crafted dance to remain unknown, separate, with no connections. Too many people here. Friends of friends. This wasn't supposed to happen.
Evie and I are kissing. Our numb-ish faces pressed together, lipsticks mixing. Her hands are running up my thighs and under my dress, kneading at my skin. Her thumb skims against my panties and I squeal, half-heartedly trying to squeeze my legs shut with her still trapped between my knees. Evie's boyfriend slides past us to grab another beer from the fridge. "You gettin' good shots of this?" he asks my husband.
A blast of cold air sweeps in. Evie swivels around in my legs to look toward the door as her boyfriend squeezes through the guests to great the new late arrivals.
And there you are. Helping her off with her coat like a gentleman. She's excitedly greeted by a group of women from Evie's work. She's the invitee, she's the friend of a friend of a friend.
She's your wife.
You haven't seen me yet. Dizzy. I'm dizzy. I hug my arms around Evie, burying my face in her hair to breathe in her scent. Coconut shampoo. She smells like beauty and summer and calmness.
She runs her hands over mine, feeling me stiffen. "You okay?"
"Yeah, there's just a lot of people here."
My husband comes to me, rubbing my back. I hide in this comfort sandwich, watching you, holding my breath. My heart thumps hard and fast against Evie's back. It's so loud in my ears I'm sure others can hear it. Suddenly, your eyes finally meet mine and everything drains out of me. A look of surprise visits your face for just a moment before your mouth curls into a grin.
"Hon, do you need to go puke? Babe?" He sounds so distant. My husband.
I look away from you and breathe. The music and noise of the crowd slither their way back into my brain. I pull myself off of Evie, hopping down from the counter.
I can hear her laughing over the noise. Your wife. She's behind the living room wall now, but I know what she's doing. She's happy to be here. She's not the type to hide in a kitchen corner all night. She's already making new friends and moving like water from person to person, easy and light. She'll make them smile, she'll make everyone's night a little more fun and tomorrow she'll have a dozen new friends all linking up on social media. All the connections we missed.
She's prettier than I thought she'd be. Softer. I bet she smells like essential oils and never yells at the kids.
What the fuck are you doing with me?
"Holly?" They're looking at me, Evie and my husband.
My husband. I can't look at him.
"I'm okay. There's just too many people here. I need to be alone for a little bit." They both think they get it. This isn't anything new to them, my anxiety, I need my space and they'll let me have it. I inelegantly stumble through the people toward the french doors to the outside.
I am almost through the sunroom before I realize with horror that you've somehow both made it there already. Your arm is draped around her shoulders as she chats with a friend of mine. I cringe. You're grinning again.
My friend notices me and pulls me over. "Holly! Hey! I was just telling these two about you, your kids are almost the same ages, like, within weeks." I know this already. And I know that you have done this on purpose, placed yourself here so I'd have to talk to her, your wife. You knew I'd be headed for an exit. You are taking advantage of your golden opportunity to torture me.
My hands are balled into nervous fists. "You look so familiar!" she says, with a glittering, genuine smile that covers her entire face, spilling into the edges of her eyes. I wonder if you've shown her a picture of me. Or one of the videos. Told her it was porn. 'Can you believe what some people will do?'
She's looking me over, expecting a conversation. Why? Why are you making me talk to her?
I hate you for this. My face burns and I can feel the sweat forming at my hairline. I don't even know what I'm saying back. Words just come out of my mouth as my eyes flit to the door. I hear myself telling her I need to get some air.
"Let me get the door for you," you say, smiling. As I walk past you, toward false freedom, I feel your warm hand on my ass. Frigid air stabs into my lungs as I sharply draw in a breath. The door closes behind me. Who saw that? Did she see that?
The cold envelopes me, attaching itself to my sweat, cooling me down, taming the panic. Snow drifts down lightly, catching in my hair. It's just starting to coat the grass and my shoes leave prints behind me as I walk around the side of the house and lean my back against the siding, gripping my fingers around the edge, trying to hold myself there.
I can feel my life shifting.
Footsteps crunch the frozen ground and I don't even have to look up to know it's you. My cheeks are a strange mixture of the heat of embarrassment and rage cooled by my chilled, guilt ridden tears.
You're in front of me. I stare at our feet. My stupid, worn chucks looking hopefully at your shiny black dress shoes.
"Holly."
You've told me before you hate this. That I should look at you when you're talking. That I should have more confidence. Your hands are on my face, turning it up toward you, but I keep my eyes down.
