Chapter 18

Chapter 18

I decided to throw a party. Not that I felt like celebrating or anything, but it was time. There had been a lot of sadness, so it was time for some fun. I guess it was also for my friends. They had been there for me, and we hadn’t had one since before. I guess I also wanted to have a party to prove to everyone that I was ok. Everyone was really worried about me and at the time, I didn’t pay much attention. I wanted to show them that even though I wasn’t “back to the way I was”, I was at least “moving forward”.

In order to get in the spirit of the party, I started drinking…straight vodka…from the bottle. Ok, I admit, it was actually more “drink ‘til I don’t feel feelings”, than “let’s party”, but hey, cut me some slack.

When people would show up, they would try their best to act normal around me, which I did appreciate, so I returned the favor by changing the subject to something less serious whenever they asked “how I was doing”. Was I avoiding the issue? Maybe, but it was a party and I wanted everyone to have a good time. After a while, I tried to stay in the background so people could just let loose and have a good time. I still had my trusty bottle of Point Judith Vodka though. At the time I didn’t realize how it was gradually bringing me down. It wasn’t making me super depressed or anything, just alienated. I was looking around at all the people having fun and wondering why I couldn’t have fun. Then my best friend found me.

“Hey, there you are! I’ve been lookin’ for ya.”

“Oh I’m just takin’ a breather.” I say straightening up so he won’t be concerned about me. “What’s up?”

“First off, don’t you think you’ve had enough of that?”

“I’m just nursing it don’t worry, it wasn’t full when I started.”

“All right,” he says, not quite convinced, but not wanting to be pushy. “The other thing is that I think you should come dance.”

“Oh really?”

“Look, I know you obviously didn’t throw this party to celebrate, and no one here expects you to put on a show, or even lie and tell them that you’re ok. I mean it is a little weird, throwing a party this soon after, but what were we going to do, not show up?”

“So what, you’re all here out of pity?”

“No, not pity. Out of support. We all feel like, if this is what you want, if this will make you feel better, we’re here for you. At the same time, we don’t want you to feel neglected, like we’re just here for the party. We want you to have fun with us. For your sake.”

I crack a little smile at the sentiment and fight back some tears. “That’s… I really appreciate that, I do, I just don’t feel much like dancing. I am enjoying myself though, I mean as much as I can. Right now I’m just content watching everyone have a good time.”

“Well, I’m not gonna tell you what to do, because Tim Girard does what Tim Girard wants, but if you do need anything, let me know.”

“Actually there is one thing…”

“Name it.”

“Well, as you know, it is tradition that I do a strip tease at these parties, and since I’m out of commission, someone has to do it. I don’t want them to be disappointed. To some of them, I’m sure it’s the highlight of the night. Who knows, it might even get you laid.”

Now it’s his turn to crack a smile. “I will do this for you, but only because you’re my best friend.”

“And because it might get you laid. Hey, you don‘t have to do it only because I‘m asking you, you can do it because you want to. That’s the fun of selfishness. Feel free to use my room.”

“Hah, for someone who considers himself so selfish, you are pretty generous.”

“Selfishness is not about greed, it’s about making yourself happy. Right now, what would make me happy is for you to entertain my guests with a striptease, and then bang some chick as a result.”

“Well, if it’ll make you happy…”

I lift my bottle of vodka, as if to “cheers” him. He looks at the bottle and I can tell he is thinking of saying something about my drinking again, but decides against it. He knows that I’ll do what I want and that if I’m left to my own devices, I’ll turn out ok. That’s one of the reasons why he is my best friend.

His talk did help, but as I had said, I wasn’t ready for fun yet. Even my roommate came over and tried to make me laugh by shouting some gibberish in my face, followed by rubbing my head like a crystal ball. While I wasn’t in the mood to laugh out loud, it was funny and I gave him a smile to let him know the gesture was appreciated.

As the next song comes on, my best friend decides that it is “strip-worthy” and begins his routine. At first he seems a little uneasy and stiff, but soon the cheering starts and he loosens up and really starts to enjoy himself. As I’m watching, another smile creeps in and I feel, for lack of a better word, proud. The cheering has grown from the occasional shout to a constant swell. As he is taking his jeans off to reveal bright red boxer-shorts, one of the girls behind him slaps his ass. He turns around to face her in astonishment, pretends to scold her then continues removing his jeans. Once they are off, he proceeds to climb onto the couch and straddle one of the girls, at which point, the screaming reaches it’s peak.

Satisfied that I had done everything I could to make everyone have a good time, I decided to take a walk. Apparently it was imperative that I take a swig of vodka as I’m walking down the stairs and almost fell on my face. I managed to catch myself, but the bottle of vodka was not so lucky. It dropped to the driveway with a “thoompf”, fell on its side and then rolled under my car. This near catastrophe made me realize how drunk I actually was, and that it was a blessing in disguise that I lost the bottle. I straightened myself and staggered to the end of the driveway and turned left toward route 108, and beyond that, the ocean.

Now because I was drunkenly stumbling around outside at this point, I was not aware of what happened next. However, since then, the events that took place in my absence were…revealed to me, shall we say. Instead of telling the story out of order to be “artistic” as some directors do, I will include it now so it fits chronologically. Don’t worry, nothing bad happened to me on my walk. I didn’t walk out into traffic or drown in the ocean or anything. I just walked around the block a couple of times to clear my head. Yeah, boring, I know…that’s why I’m telling you this part of the story instead.

Immediately after I got to the end of my driveway and turned left, a blonde haired woman wearing a black dress comes down my street behind me, so I didn’t see her. She turns left into my driveway and walks slowly along the house to the back porch. She takes her time climbing the stairs, sliding her hand along the railing as she does. My best friend had just gone out to get some air after his big striptease and a few of his friends that he brought to the party came with him. They are laughing and rehashing what just went on inside, when the blonde haired woman, standing in the shadows, catches his eye.

“I was impressed with your moves,” she says to him.

“I didn’t see you in there. If I did, I would have given you special attention.”

She starts to walk toward him, but then goes to his left and behind him. He turns his head to the left, to follow her with his eyes.

“You may not have seen me, but I saw you...”

When his head can’t turn any more, he looks briefly forward, to give his friends an ‘Oh yeah’ nod, and turns his head the right to meet her on the other side. She stays behind him and peeks over his right shoulder showing only her blue eyes, but not the rest of her face.

“…and that’s all that matters.”

“Care to see more of my moves?” he asks.

Some time later, a girl opened my bedroom door. I don’t know if she was looking for me, and she thought I was in there, or if she was looking for her coat, or whatever. All I do know is that when I came back from my walk, the second I stepped through the kitchen door, I heard a blood curdling scream. In what seems like slow motion, I walk through the kitchen and as I do, someone kills the music. As I walk around the fridge, people are running from the living room and the back room into the hallway to see what is the matter. I push through them and see the girl leaning against the wall opposite my bedroom door, covering her face and crying. When I get to the door and look in, the first things I see are my best friend’s eyes. They are lifeless. He is lying face-up on my floor, wearing nothing but his red boxers. His forearms are torn open lengthwise, with a pool of blood under each.

I turn around to go throw up in the bathroom, but before I get there, I see the ugly hallway carpet rushing up towards me as everything goes black.