Page 29 of The New Year's Party
“You’re quiet,” said Hellie. “Did you sell any gutters today?”
“Ah... I haven’t told you my good news yet...” Doug’s heart was racing, but it wasn’t an unpleasant feeling. He might as well reallylivethe lie. Be as happy as if hehadgotten a promotion.
“What good news?” She took a left. Cornfields ran along the side of the road. They were just a few minutes from Phelps’s house.
Telling Hellie would be fun. But telling her in front of an audience... his insides lit up at the thought. All that good cheer. All that approval. Everyone happy... happy about him... one last time.
“I’ll wait so everyone can hear.”
“Okay,” she said without even looking at him. Maddeningly neutral. Ultra calm.
His mood soured and he fidgeted his fingers against the edge of his collar. Fuck. Why wasn’t she ever really happy or really angry? Even when she gave him the ultimatum, she had been as cool as a cucumber.
Was it because he couldn’t give her kids—at least kids that could survive past week ten? Was it that? He wasn’t man enough? He was sweating. His heart was still pounding, except now it was becoming unpleasant. Fuck... he was tired. Tired as adog.
He looked at Hellie. She had weathered everything with him—his times in jail, his times in rehab, all the times he’d been unfairly fired by the middle managers of this country that kissed the asses of corporations like they were sugar cubes and loved to kick around people like Doug, people who were just trying to make an honest buck.
If Hellie really loved him, wouldn’t she have been more upset as she gave him the ultimatum? Crying?Someshow of emotion. Instead, she was as pale and calm and small as ever, sitting on their kitchen counter in their garden apartment in Fort Wayne where they used to live.I can’t do this anymore unless you can pull your weight.That’s what she’d said. Word for word. Her pale legs dangling down under her slip dress. Her shoulders as delicate as bird wings. He’d wanted to break her in that moment.
He’d never laid a hand on her. Never. He’d never wantedto either, except in that moment, when she was sitting like a damn bird on that counter with her damn pale legs dangling down and she said,I can’t do this anymore unless you can pull your weight.
Pull your weight, as if he’d been doing nothing the whole time they were together. Didn’t she remember that job he’d had bartending? The leather jacket he bought her that one Christmas? The perfume he—well, he’d shoplifted that—but she didn’t know that! He’d been a giver, not always, but not never, and with her pale legs dangling, it was like she didn’t remember a single good thing he’d done.
The way he’d held her hand in the hospital and wept—Doug Pflugerweeping—because they couldn’t find the pinprick heartbeat. Weeping because he’d already imagined himself coaching his kid’s softball team and going to the cheesy school Christmas performances and taking his kid to whatever new Marvel movie was coming out the very goddamn night it released.
He adjusted his tie. It was choking him. He wanted to rip it off. Maybe he couldn’t wait for Ted to show up and share. Maybe he’d hit up the bathroom as soon as they got there. He had to take care of himself, since no one else was fucking going to—
“You okay?” said Hellie, stealing a glance at him as she coasted into a parking space on the side of the street.
They were here. Phelps’s house was all lit up, with an inflatable Santa in the front yard. Doug would kill for a couple kids for him and Hellie, some kidshecould inflate a Santa for.
His heart ached, but it was an angry ache. Had Hellie forgotten their whole history? If Hellie really loved him, she’d fight for him. If she really loved him, she’d understand that what happened today was anexception. That Doughadpulled his weight. That he truly was the victim.
It was uncomfortable to be mad at Hellie, because she wasso small and calm. Doug wasn’t an abuser. He didn’t want to be the big scary guy when she was so fragile.
On the other hand, the fact that his life was about to explode wasreallyfucking with him.
He thought of the gun, which he’d retrieved from the depths of his closet and stashed in his overnight bag, along with all the cash he’d squirreled away since they moved in, including the thousand dollars his grandma kept in the Ben & Jerry’s container in the freezer. Granny wouldn’t miss it; she was too far gone. He tried to calculate how much of the good stuff the thousand dollars could buy, taking into account Ted’s Friends Discount...
He had been imagining using the gun on himself, but now that struck him as crazy. Why would he punish himself when none of this was his fault? Maybe other times it had been... but this time it was clear as day. It was his boss’s fault... and whoever had sent that fucking fax... and Hellie’s. Hellie’s fault for making this into a situation he couldn’t be honest about. She wanted him to be truthful, but she’d cornered him and now it was impossible.
If she really loved him, she never would have put him in this impossible situation.
He adjusted his tie again.
She cut the engine. She was looking at him like she had in the hospital, her eyes both full and empty, both pleading and silent.
“What?” he said aggressively.
“Is there anything you want to tell me?”
His heart hammered harder. Was she looking at his pocket? Had she heard the crinkle of the bag?
“No.”
Did she know about his job? No. How could she? Maybe she could tell he was high, after all. Maybe this had been a horrible idea, coming to this party, and he should cut and run.
“Too tight?” she said.
