Page 45 of The New Year's Party
Everyone else is totally involved in strong opinions about how best to make the shooting range work, with Ted ramming plates into the literal mud and intoning, “Return to the soil,” and Phelps making a crass joke about hitting Santa in the nutcracker. The BB gun has somehow made it into the hands of Doug, the person who out of all of us shouldreallynot be handling one...
“Don’t you feel like we’re all, um... regressing?” I say as some kind of inroad since Olivia is so quiet. I laugh. “Like, being together makes us all act even more immature?” I don’t mean me, of course, but...
“It is strange to be together again,” Olivia muses. “You know? I feel so bad for Doug and Hellie.”
Bad for a drug abuser and the woman too weak to leave him?
“How so?”
“You know. Their second miscarriage this year.”
“Oh... that.” Losing babies is something, thank God, I’ve never had to walk through. “It sounds awful.” I pause.“Though honestly, when Hellie texted Will...” I shake my head. I saw it right away, since I’d confiscated his phone. In fact, I replied to her, with condolences. She probably assumed it was Will.
“What?” Olivia sounds curious.
I lower my voice. “I mean, between you and me, can you imagine them as parents? I just... When I heard they were trying for their first, I couldn’t help but think, what are they doing? No stability, no money, they can’t possibly have good health insurance—and what kind of dad would Doug be? Igrew up with an alcoholic father, okay? I know something about substance abuse and how it screws a family up.”
“You don’t think they would’ve made it work?” says Olivia.
I’d like to think she’s naive, but we’re too old for that. She’s being performative, which I havenopatience for. She has to agree they would’ve been horrible parents, even if she’s not willing to say it. I guess not everyone can stomach the truth.
“I’m just saying, if you look at it a certain way, maybe it’s a blessing in disguise. Can you imagine those poor kids, growing up with their dad either in rehab or jail?” I shiver, because however badoursituation is, I can’t bear to imagine my own girls inthatsituation.
“I don’t think Hellie and Doug deserved what happened,” says Olivia.
“And those kids didn’t deserve to be born into that level of dysfunction. Sorry, I know that sounds harsh. I’m just being real.” Suddenly I realize the plate group has gone silent. My eyes shoot up and, to my surprise, Hellie is looking straight at us. It seems like their conversation just naturally lapsed for a second, but... did she hear us? I hope not. Then again, maybe she needs to hear the truth. Maybe all these people need a little more truth in their lives, stomach or no.
Noise resumes normal levels.
“Man, you didn’t think this through!” Doug says to Phelps,thumping him on the back, as if it’s a victory for Doug that there’s someone stupider than him.
Ted bends over, giving us a view of his butt in jeans. “We need cardboard. A big piece of cardboard,” he says.
If I was a violent person, I might enjoy shooting Ted in the rear end. His accusation at dinner? Unbelievable. Sure, yes, I did call him five years ago and ask what it would cost to burn the restaurant down, and if Ted would be willing to do it, or at least had a connection. Can you blame me? He’s acriminal. It made sense that he would know someone. The truth is, Will was about to make the worst investment of our lives, everyone knows that most restaurants fail within the first year, and since nothing I said was stopping him... In retrospect, of course, it was a stupid move to call Ted and expect him to keep our conversation in confidence. Not to mention, he absolutely refused to do it, which—huh? You’re selling drugs andthisis where you draw the line?
Then who shows up on our doorstep a few months later and whispers to me, “Hide me for a week or two and I won’t mention what you asked me to do?” Yeah. I don’t think so. But Will, being the sucker that he is, insisted we help Ted out.
I made up the sofa bed myself. I let Ted think he was safe for a few days. Then I called the cops. Maybe he figured out it was me. It wouldn’t take a genius, though I’ll deny it all day long.
I’m not a liar by nature, but I will do whatever is necessary to protect my family. I don’t feelgoodabout it. I actually hate that these people have forced me to go behind their backs about things like reporting Ted to the cops. It was a win for society; I shouldn’t have to hide the fact that I turned in a wanted man. I haven’t told Will, because he’d make some impassioned argument about loyalty, which just proves the point: these people have twisted his morals into weird little knots.
I’ve wanted Will to sever ties with his friend group foryears now. That’s partly why I took his phone, because when your spouse is leaking money, not to mention regressing in his moral life—likely encouraged by the company he keeps—you need to take back the reins. The clinch point was the text Will sent Bennett about a year ago.Doing lots of processing with my therapist. Oscar’s been coming up a lot... you remember him, right? Call me when you have a minute.
I truly had Will’s good in mind when I took that phone. Digging up Oscar’s sad story is pointless, and I had to shut that down before it sent Will to an even worse place. But now I’m seeing that Will is never going to sever these ties. He’d prefer to sever ties withme. Which is... I can’t evenprocessit right now. I know, strategically, that a preemptive strike has to be my next move. I need to be the first to file for separation. The court of public opinion will be on my side; I’ve made sure of it. But I have to get my legal ducks in a row too. And honestly, it wouldn’t hurt to see if a couple people here might sympathize with me...
“So I’ve been meaning to ask you,” says Olivia. She’s still watching the others. Her voice is low. Secret-level low.Uh-oh, do I smell dirt?
“Yeah?”
She faces me. In the dark yard with the only light coming from the camping lanterns by the bench, her face is shadowy and mysterious and I feel a pang of jealousy. I don’t like to compare myself to other women. I know comparison is the thief of joy. But she’s too pretty for her own good, and... I’m only human.
“At the party five years ago,” she begins. “I... I’ve been doing some processing. I mean, trying to remember some of the details.” She clears her throat, then tucks a dark strand of hair behind her ear. Okay... I think I know where this is going. And, ew. Does shewantto relive her greatest shame? “I... well, I was really drunk, blackout drunk, actually,which I’m not proud of. And Bennett was off having some deep conversation with Will? Phelps let me have his master bedroom, to lie down... and then we were talking, and I think there was more alcohol involved, and then...” Her face is ghostly. She looks haunted. “I came out of the room around, what, two in the morning? And you were there.”
I nod.
“And you told me you couldn’t believe I’d slept with Phelps.”
I bite my lip. “Yeah, I came on kind of strong. I was in shock. And... honestly, really disappointed that you’d do something like that.”
