Page 59 of The New Year's Party
It had started with a slap in the face.
But instead of crumbling, defeated, a monster rose up in Will. He grabbed Jenn’s arm and flung her back onto the bed. Then, she ripped off her T-shirt, tore the front of Will’s dress, and he did her as rough and hard as he could.
When it was over and he was in the bathroom washing up,his cheek still stinging from her slap, his body still thrumming, he hated himself. That wasn’t him, that violent man. He didn’t want it to be him.
When he came out of the bathroom, he meant to apologize, say, “I’m sorry, I don’t know what just happened,” but Jenn was singing. She kissed him on the cheek. “That was incredible,” she said. “Thanks.”
He never wore a dress in front of her again, but she did keep slapping him. If it had been too long since they last had sex, if he claimed he was too tired, if he was acting too passive—she’d just hit him. “This is the only way I can get your attention,” she’d say with angry tears in her eyes. For a while it would still end in sex, which made Will feel so dirty.
He’d only stopped rising to the occasion in the past few months. She’d slap him, again and again, on the face, on the chest, on the arms, and he’d just stand there, letting his mind slip away, out of the moment, into the waiting series of images that had become so familiar, his safety place: a pillow over Jenn’s face... a knife in his hand...
The whole thing was so horribly twisted. What he liked and what he hated... the delicious surprise of discovering his kink, and the nasty surprise of Jenn’s violent response to it... the cruel way Jenn would hurt him when he didn’t give her what she wanted...
What was most horrifying was discovering the existence of this second William. Not the dress-kink William, he was alright—but this shadow William who liked to be violent. Who liked to be scary. Who wanted to destroy things. This was the William Jenn wanted—this was the William Jenn loved.
His therapist called it toxic masculinity. Jenn called it male leadership. The elder board said he needed to honor his wife. And Will... what did Will think? His head seemed to break every time he tried to fit it all together.
Much like Oscar’s head probably broke.
When Oscar kissed Will in the pantry during the very first New Year’s party, Will was completely flabbergasted. Too surprised to turn his face away. Too surprised to move. “I... like girls,” Will whispered apologetically when Oscar pulled away, his lips moist from the kiss. And, in the ensuing moments, Oscar assured Will that he did too.Oh, my gosh, I don’t know why I did that... I think I’m not used to the alcohol... I’m totally committed to Jenn... I really am attracted to her... Please don’t tell her...
Will hadn’t told Oscar’s secret, though he did worry they’d been spotted. Hadn’t he heard retreating steps right beyond the pantry door, which had been ajar? Then, in January when they returned to campus after the winter break, things in Compass had gotten weird. Oscar was suddenly gone. Leadership told them Oscar had “stepped down to figure some things out.” Will kept leaving Oscar voicemails on his dorm phone, emailing him—that was before everyone had cell phones—but Oscar didn’t respond.
When Oscar killed himself, Will always wondered if it had somehow started with that kiss. Maybe Oscar came out as gay and Compass spurned him. At the time, Jenn seemed devastated, and claimed to have no idea Oscar was in such a bad place. But, based on the past year and Will’s troubles with Jenn... now he had to wonder. He thought of Oscar’s funeral, which was held over Spring Break. The mom, sobbing, her arm so tight around a little girl, like she was clinging to a buoy. The dad, shaking everyone’s hand and saying, “Thank you for coming,” in a bizarrely normal voice. Had Jenn outed Oscar to the Compass leadership, like she outed Will to the elder board? Had Oscar drowned in rejection and self-hatred, like Will was drowning?
The group was ascending the deck stairs. Jenn led the way,pulling open the sliding glass doors and saying, “Where does Phelps keep the champagne?”
Allie answered, “It’s in the fridge, on its side.”
And wasn’t this exactly how it always played out? No consequences for Jennifer Bernanke. Never consequences. Just look at tonight. Jenn shot Doug, yet the party went on. Even if Will could prove every single one of her misdeeds, from her abusive behavior toward Will to her betrayal of Bunny, Jenn had the shining armor of her perfect persona, built over the years, crafted from post after post. Bulletproof.
Ted laughed at something Allie said, drawing Will’s attention for a split second. They were speculating on how Doug was doing.
“I’ve been shot before. It feels like fire...” said Ted.
Fire.
It hit Will so fast and hard he actually stumbled on the final step up to the deck. Bunny half caught him.
“You okay?” said Bunny.
“Sorry, fine,” he gasped, letting out a silly little giggle.
This was it. His salvation. The way he could get rid of her. Her “crimes” to this point weren’t illegal, but arson... the fire Ted had accused her of wanting to start... that was different.What if, upon Ted’s refusal to do the job—and this was assuming Ted’s story was true—she’d decided to do the job herself? Will had to admit it was a little far-fetched. But... how messed up was it that suddenly, desperately, Will hoped she had, that shewasresponsible for Eddie Duszynski’s death? It had seemed crazy at dinner; he’d dismissed it because Ted was a jerk as well as a criminal, but the more he thought about it...
“Listen, Bunny... let me talk to Jenn,” he said.
“Really?” said Bunny, a little breathless. “Don’t you think it’s better that I—”
“Let me. Please. She’s my wife.” This was all on him anyway.On him for inviting Jenn to that first party fourteen years ago... for bringing her into this group of vulnerable, complicated people he loved, damn it, even if they were all screwups like Jenn was always telling him, but wasn’t Will a screwup too?
“This is my business with her,” objected Bunny.
“Give me a chance,” countered Will. “Just the first shot. Please. After midnight, after the toasting is done, I’ll pull her aside. My wife owes me the truth too.”
“Well... okay,” said Bunny, squeezing Will’s arm one last time. She lowered her voice. “But after your turn, I get my shot. I have to speak my truth, Will.”
“Of course,” he said.
