Page 3 of You Were Invited
It was a photo of Molly and Annie with a picnic blanket the summer between fifth and sixth grade. They’d made a plate of sandwiches. Molly’s mom had encouraged them to make funny faces; Molly was making a piggy face, while Annie had pushed her ears forward, fingers fanning out behind her head.
I have no time for social media. Lately, she’d seen little of her best friend, who’d very thoughtfully delivered some chicken noodle soup to their doorstep four days earlier.Molly understands. Annie pushed his guilt-trip away like an unfinished plate of too-rich food.
“I’m sorry you’re not feeling well, but Eliza can’t host Sam’s birthday, so I volunteered. Sorry it’s last minute. Thought I told ya?”
Annie shook her head.
“Well, I’ll make sure you know next time. Bowls are in the dishwasher, right?”
“Sink.”
“You’ll wash ‘em while I pick up the bathroom? This place needs tidyin’ up.” He made a retching noise.
Neither of them would get what they wanted at this rate. Friends were his entire world. And if she’d learned anything inher twenty-seven years of life, it was that someone’s demons would rally from the depths of their core when their world was challenged. He wouldn’t leave her in peace, but she could have some semblance of it back if she gave in.
The fight drained out of her bones. She pasted a smile on her lips. It slotted all-too-easily into place. “Fine. I’ll come help you.”
“Great, love you,” Chris replied quickly and went back to the kitchen.
“Love ya, too...” she muttered, her voice dull as it left her lips.
While helping Chris, she struggled to hold her mask of politeness in place, but there had to be absolutely no way she was fooling Chris. Was he trivializing the blatant tension, or actually, utterly, and completely oblivious?
“You think you can pull yourself away for a bit later for some fun?” Chris gave her a hopeful smile. “I’m makin’ tacos.”
The invite made her heart sink in her chest. He'd have more fun without her. His friends would be more comfortable. The vibe would be better, and who was she to ruin someone’s birthday party?
She forced a smile and nodded anyway.
The sound of the loose bedroom doorknob, the cacophony of music, and party banter woke Annie later that night. Her back was to the doorway. She opened one heavy eye, and Chris's shadow loomed on the wall opposite. His gaze roamed over her back, the weight of which made her want to curl up tighter. When he closed the door, dampening the party music, she heaved a sigh.
She hadn’t come to his party.
At first, she’d felt genuinely guilty, especially since she’d skipped dinner, too. Time had ticked by, and she still hadn't finished writing her article; her headache had forced her to stop.
They better leave at midnight. It was nearly eleven.
Which was fair... right? Didn’t they have lives to go back to?
And she expected Chris to roll into bed in an hour or so. Fall asleep. Snore– he snarled like a bear when he drank heavily, but she’d gotten used to it.
Serene Hallowbrew wouldn’t stand for this, Annie thought.
When she was nine, she’d imagined a fae character who could say all the things she wished she could. It felt embarrassing to entertain it for what it was– escapism– but now she couldn’t turn it off. Now, she couldn't stop thinking about how the fae would handle this situation.
“I hope they all catch food poisoning,” Serene, dressed in burgundy and black, spat darkly from the back of her crow, Aerin. She shook her head, tossing her long black hair over her shoulder, before lightly kicking the bird and flying away.
“Wish I could fly away…” Annie murmured.
She didn’t realize she’d fallen back asleep until a drunken argument outside the bedroom startled her into wakefulness. Someone pounded on what Annie guessed was the hallway half-bath. The assailant rattled the doorknob, as if aiming to rip it off, screws and all. She gathered it was a lover’s quarrel. A few choice curses rang in her ears, coming from both parties, zapping her with their cruelty.
Blinking to focus, she squinted at the red numbers of her bedside alarm clock. The reality of the current hour drove a spike through her consciousness.
3am!
She cupped her palms over her face.
I can’t do this anymore.
