Suggestion

He looks good.

I’m not glad to see it.

I walk into the room, into the envelope of clanging, thumping music, into the sweet smells of weed-smoke mixed with wine. There’s a good crowd gathered here already. There’s chips. There’s some dancing going on.

#

“I really don’t know if I want to…” I’d started protesting.

Toria, my best friend, getting all in my face: “Oh, come on, you have to. Don’t make me go alone.”

“Okay. Don’t go.”

“Yeah thanks. It’s Michelle’s bloody party. So I’m going. And so are you.”

“You know he’ll be there.”

“Good. It’s time to stop avoiding him anyway.”

Them really. Avoiding them.

#

But here I stand. Dressed to impress. Well, not too much: I’m in old jeans, but I’m wearing a lush velvet top that offers a generous view of my engineered cleavage. Here’s something you’ll never get your hands on again, Justin.

But I don’t think he notices. He’s in here already, and she’s on his arm. And they both look good. Much gooder than I’m happy about. And sure, I try to strut around laughing and smiling and pretending that I’ve barely even noticed, but I feel like a great big glass window: all these assholes seeing right through me.

And then he has to come over – bringing her – and start talking to me.

“Hey, Bridie, it’s good to see you.”

“Justin.”

She’s on tip-toes, with her hand in his, a flurry of a smile, “Hi Bridie.”

“Loretta.”

“Glad you could come.”

“Me too. Great party.” Toria. Get the fuck out here.

Justin says, “We’re cool right?”

“Sure.”

“I know we left things…”

Through gritted teeth: “Sure.”

#

Judge not lest I ram a cake fork through your eye.

Just saying.

I don’t even know if Michelle has such a thing as a cake fork.

Is it any wonder I’ve retreated out to the kitchen? I mean, sure, I must be paranoid, but it really does feel as if everyone is watching me; they’re all talking about me and how difficult it must be for me being here with my ex and his new girlfriend, and oh didn’t I take the break-up hard? Poor Bridie. But you know…

Actually. Everybody. No, you don’t know.

Can everybody see me watching him? A few more drinks’ll fix my caring about that. It’s just… I don’t know… the way he has of a looking at a person. Like right now, he’s sitting there talking to Tabitha from high school, and he hardly knew her in those days, but he still makes her think she’s the most exciting thing he’s seen all day. Attentive, I suppose you could call it, but that seems a bit too pedestrian for what’s just so Justin.

And where’s she?

That’s the moment I notice Loretta, coming gliding up behind me. I try not to notice that angelic complexion, or the delicate ice-blond of her lightly curled hair. Comparisons come flying into my mind faster than I can dodge them.

“Hey, Bridie. I really hope we are okay.”

“Of course. Me and Justin, we were finished before you guys hooked up.” Yes, by about three weeks. But hey, who’s – 23 days to be exact - counting?

“That’s good. I wouldn’t want hard feelings.”

No, wouldn’t want that.

“Have you seen Justin? He’s not where I left him.”

I turn to her; I raise an eyebrow just real slightly. “Out the back. Talking to Tabitha Jury. He’s been talking to her for quite a while actually…”

Picture credit/discredit: author's own work