Page 10 of Unbreakable
That’s how I had been before everything turned upside down. Now I felt like the walking representation of drama, except instead of stirring the pot with other people, the drama churned inside me.
So there I stood, making nice conversation on the Korowskis’ brick patio, flanked by outdoor heaters. The nice conversation covered up how absurdly anxious I was. It felt like no one but the Korowskis and Lindbergs wanted to talk to us, and we carpooled with the Lindbergs. Dylan and I floated around the room, trying to butt into conversations that promptly broke up.
I wore a flouncy pink skirt and pink leotard with some character heels from my dancing days, my black hair curled to mimic a perm. Dylan accompanied me in an open black short-sleeved button-down and pants, unbuttoned about to his belly button.
I fixed my smile on bigger for Lacey, lining my back up to Dylan’s front. “Dyl, we have to do the thing.”
“Oh, right,” he said, nuzzling the side of my face and putting one hand on my waist. We handed Lacey our punch cups so we could perfect the pose. Then, just as smoothly as Patrick Swayze himself, Dylan lifted my arm and hooked it around his neck, trailing his hand down my body.
Lacey stood with a wide but blank grin, clearly not getting the reference. I guess Dylan and I were officially old. Two other wives were standing by, but the light in their eyes dimmedand they turned to join another conversation. Add that to the evidence for the social anxiety pile.
“We’re Baby and Johnny fromDirty Dancing,” I said, trying not to shrink. “You know,nobody puts Baby in a corner.”
“Oh, right! The movie where she jumps and he holds her up?” Lacey cocked her head to the side, her bright demeanor not matching her vicious-looking Harley Quinn costume. She handed back our drinks.
“Oh, hey.Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” Mara Leroy walked over, her cane perfectly incorporated into her sexy Mr. Peanut costume. She wore a yellow bodysuit with her assets well arranged, her red hair in a bouncy ponytail, black fishnets, white sneakers, and a monocle.
“Yes, you got it!” I said, excited at least someone knew what the hell our couple’s costume was.
“Are you going to lift her up like in the big scene?” she went on, her dazzling smile and ice-blue eyes all lit up. She sang a few bars from “(I’ve Had) The Time Of My Life,” and I joined in. We leaned toward each other, laughing together. Talking to Mara was like hitting the pressure cooker release valve on my keyed-up emotions. I really didn’t know her well. Her husband, Jack, was Dylan’s teammate in Los Angeles, but Mara had only come on the scene a few months before Jack got traded. But the few times I met her in California, we’d shown a mutual desire to have fun. And on a night like this where it felt like we were the outcasts, that camaraderie was needed.
Jack appeared at her side, handing her a can of seltzer water and rolling his eyes at our singing. I noticed how readily he touched her, with an arm around her back and a hand on her ass like it was second nature. Jack’s shorter than a lot of the guys, but Mara was his pint-sized companion, sporting enviable curves to boot.
I was jealous of her in more than one way. Her body confidence when she wasn’t perfectly petite was admirable. Who could question her when she was so comfortable in her own skin? And even with her physical struggles that sometimes required her to use a mobility aid, she boogied to the Halloween hits pumped across the heated patio. She had a contagiously positive spirit, an openness and curiosity about life that didn’t veer into the obnoxious.
That used to be me as well, but it slipped through my fingers with each mile that stretched between us and California.
But what made my heart ache more about Mara was the ease between her and Jack. Without missing a beat, she turned her face up to Jack’s for a quick kiss and leaned her head against his chest. He tucked her more tightly to his side, taking the place of her cane in holding her up.
“Jeanine made me try the famous lift exactly one time before I decided I didn’t want to end up in the hospital,” Dylan said with a smirk, then looked over to Jack. “What in the hell are you wearing, Jackie?”
Jack’s costume looked like he’d sewn a bedsheet to be narrow at his shoulders and billowing at his knees, where his legs popped out. It looked like he had throw pillows next to his knees on the inside. Little black streaks dotted the tan fabric. He gestured between himself and Mara and with a face completely devoid of emotion, said, “We’re nuts.”
I snorted, a sip of punch burning the inside of my nose. I got a sea of nasty looks from the other partygoers. I regained my composure. “You would come dressed as a ball sack, Leroy.”
Jack tucked one side of his mouth. “It’s nuts. She’s a peanut and I’m nuts. We’re nuts.”
Lacey smiled politely and excused herself. A man dressed as Chuckie walked by and scoffed at Jack’s statement. Dylan’s body tensed where I held his hand, so I gave it a tighter squeeze. Jackand Dylan launched into some hockey-related discussion, and Mara and I went to grab a seat on an iron bench on the party’s perimeter. Mara propped the cane next to her and slumped back with an easy grin.
“Does it feel like everyone’s avoiding talking to us?” I asked, looking across the party. Glances occasionally went our way but quickly returned to their own contented conversations.
Mara surveyed the space, closing one eye and squinting. “You know what? I really can’t tell.”
She launched into a series of giggles that had her folding over her legs, then jolting up when her back protested her flopping around. I laughed along with her while she clutched her stomach, pitching back against the bench and fanning her face. I gave her a look to get some sort of explanation for her over-the-top amusement.
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” she cooed, wiping tears from under her eyes. “I tried a new edible tonight and I think it’s—” She set off again.
I sat back and marveled at her, taking a sip of my punch. “I think maybe I need whatever you’re on.”
“Ooh! Ooh! I’ve got more, hang on.” She cupped her hands around her mouth, shouting, “Jackie! Jackie baby! C’mere! Jeanine needs drugs!”
“Oh my god,” I said, burying my face in my hands. When I looked up again, Dylan had an eyebrow quirked at me. Smirking, he strutted our way with Jack on his tail. Dylan squished half his ass on the bench and I scooted closer to Mara. Jack’s tattooed arm disappeared inside his costume until he extracted a plastic baggie.
“You’re dealing drugs to my wife out of a plastic bag?” Dylan asked.
“Chill, bro, it came from a dispensary. I just didn’t want them stinking up my nutsack.”
“It really helps with my back pain,” Mara said on a gasp, still struggling to stop laughing.
