The Party

by Robyn Harding

  “But you got a bunch of money when your parents died. You said it was the worst thing that could have happened to you.”

  “That was different. I was alone! I had no one to guide me! Ronni will have me. We’ll invest the money so that she can start a business one day, or travel, or whatever she wants to do when she’s older. I’m not going to let her blow it on drugs and partying.”

  Allan was quiet, and Lisa could see him absorbing her viewpoint. “So this isn’t about trying to ruin Kim and Jeff?”

  “I want them to hurt,” Lisa said, her voice cold, dispassionate. “I want them to feel at least a little of the pain Ronni is feeling. But no … it’s not about ruining them. It’s about my daughter.”

  Allan was softening, she could see it in his shoulders, in his downcast eyes. “When we met, you said your life goal was compassion. For everything and everyone …”

  “When we met, I was high on pot brownies.”

  Allan couldn’t help but chuckle. “That was a great vegan potluck.”

  “Remember the red lentil dal? So good.”

  Still laughing, he wrapped his arms around her and kissed her hair. “Sorry if I’m not being supportive. It’s just that … eight fifty seems like a lot of money to me.”

  “It is a lot of money… . But it’s not enough to guarantee Ronni’s future.”

  “You’re right. Not in this economy.”

  “And it’s a drop in the bucket to Jeff Sanders. I mean, Kim doesn’t even work. She could skip a spin class and get a job.” Anger had crept into her voice, and she felt Allan’s arms loosen around her. She took a step back and looked at him.

  “I’m not a horrible person, Allan. I’m a mother. If you had a child—a child who had been hurt badly—you’d know how I feel. But you don’t.”

  His expression was unreadable. Lisa didn’t know if she had hurt, offended, or finally gotten through to him. But he moved forward, reached out for her … “You’re right. I don’t know what you’re going through.”

  Lisa melted into him. She was strong and independent, she’d had to be, but she couldn’t deny how nice it was to have someone in her corner. Allan was a good guy. And his strong, lean body was so comforting, his large hands stroking her back so tender and loving… . She felt like she might cry.

  “Want to go back to my place for a bit?” he said.

  That’s when she noticed it: the pressure on her thigh. Allan was aroused. She’d thought he was holding her to be caring and supportive, but he was turned on. She felt oddly repulsed. She pulled away from him. “I should get home.”

  “It’s been so long, babe.”

  “I know, but I won’t be able to relax with Ronni home alone.”

  “She’ll be fine for half an hour.”

  Lisa looked at Allan and saw the desire in his eyes. The first months of their relationship had been so sexual, so exciting and intense, but since the accident, things had shifted. Lisa hadn’t felt amorous, in fact, sex had become distasteful. She only wanted to be comforted, to be held … and Allan had obliged. He had stood by her—he had more than stood by her, he had been her rock—through the whole mess. She owed him the romp of his life.

  Lisa smiled and bit her lip. “I’ll give you twenty minutes.”

  hannah

  SIXTY DAYS AFTER

  Hannah stood on the sidewalk across from Ronni’s apartment building, summoning the courage to cross the street. She was skipping her morning classes—foods and English—but she knew she’d have Mrs. Pittwell’s blessing. The counselor could explain to Hannah’s teachers that she had gone on a mission of mercy, a task far more important than discussing Atticus Finch, morality personified, or baking banana muffins. Even Hannah’s mom seemed to have had a change of heart regarding Hannah and Ronni’s friendship. Or at least that’s what Hannah presumed from her mom’s cryptic text: Do what you think is right… . Was Kim finally willing to loosen the reins and let her eldest explore independent thought? Hannah was going with that.

  Hannah had psyched herself up to take on Lisa Monroe this morning. Hannah would ring the buzzer, and if Lisa answered, Hannah would give her the practiced pitch: Ronni needs my support. My mom is willing to let me be there for my friend. You should, too. Hannah had been about to cross the street, had steeled herself to confront an angry adult, when a battered truck pulled up out front. Moments later, Lisa, looking young and pretty but really serious, had emerged from the building. Without a glance in Hannah’s direction, Lisa got in and drove off with the guy—her boyfriend, probably.

  So why was Hannah still standing there, almost an hour later? As she stood rooted to the spot, she realized it was Ronni she was afraid of, not Ronni’s anger or blame, but her eye. Ronni had been back at school for a month, but Hannah still hadn’t seen it. She had seen the back of Ronni’s glossy, dark-brown head from a distance, but with Hillcrest’s population of two thousand students and Ronni’s drastically reduced class schedule, their paths hadn’t crossed. The school had a special program for kids with learning disabilities, or issues at home, or now, kids who had lost their eye at a sweet sixteen party… . The “specials,” Adam called them. Even before the accident, Ronni hadn’t been very academic. She was more interested in fashion and beauty, interests Hannah had assumed Ronni would segue into a career. Well … maybe not now.

  But Ronni’s eye couldn’t be as bad as everyone said. The kids talked about her like she was a monster, a grotesque aberration, a Cyclops… . A lump formed in Hannah’s throat: pity and sadness. She forced herself to cross the street.

  Hannah punched the code into the keypad and listened to the phone ring in Ronni’s apartment. There was no answer, but Ronni had to be there. She wasn’t at school, she wasn’t with her mom, and it’s not like she had any friends to hang out with anymore. Hannah hit the pound key to reset and tried again. Finally, a small, flat voice came through the speaker. “Hello …”

  “Ronni, it’s Hannah. Can I come up?”

  Silence. It lasted so long that Hannah thought the call had disconnected, but finally Ronni said, “Are you alone?”

  “Yes … it’s just me, Ronni. Let me come up… . Please.” There was another pause, then the door buzzed loudly. Hannah jerked it open and hurried into the lobby.

  In the tiny elevator, she steeled herself for the encounter. She would not react to Ronni’s altered appearance, even if it was as bad as she’d heard. Because Ronni was more than just her injury. Hannah would treat her like she was the old Ronni, the girl she had known since childhood, like she was normal … because she was still Ronni, she was still normal, even if everyone else had forgotten that.

  To her credit, Hannah didn’t flinch when Ronni opened the door. Ronni had parted her dark hair differently, in an effort to hide the damage, but it was still evident. It wasn’t the sightless eye that was disturbing; it was the area around it. The lower lid was gone, or mostly gone, and the skin on the side was pulled tight. The impression was frightening but vaguely cartoonish—like the eye was about to pop out of its socket over a nasty surprise.

  “Hey …” Ronni muttered.

  “I wanted to see you,” Hannah said, eyes fixed on the tip of her friend’s nose. “Can I come in for a bit?”

  “My mom will be home soon.”

  Hannah suddenly felt completely terrified at the thought of Lisa’s arrival, but she couldn’t back out now. “I won’t stay long.”

  Ronni stepped back to let Hannah enter. As she did, Ronni looked down at the floor, allowing her long hair to obscure the right side of her face. Hannah noted how pretty her friend was, how she still wore impeccable makeup, and had clearly straightened her hair. This effort contrasted with Ronni’s baggy gray sweatpants, flannel shirt, and fuzzy slippers.

  “Do you want to sit?” Ronni indicated the sofa. There was a blanket and a pillow on it, like she’d just woken from a nap. Maybe that was why Ronni seemed drowsy, lackadaisical, almost sedated… .

  “’Kay …” The girls sat on the couch, knee
s angled toward each other. Ronni was half on the blanket, half on the pillow; she hadn’t bothered to remove them. “I haven’t seen you at school,” Hannah said.

  “I don’t go much anymore.”

  “Lucky …” As soon as she said it, Hannah realized it was a stupid remark. She tried to cover. “School sucks right now.”

  “Yeah?” There was a glimmer of interest.

  “I broke up with Noah.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah … Or maybe he broke up with me. Anyway, it’s over. And he hates me. He gives me dirty looks every time he sees me. And Adam and those guys are worse. They always sneer or whisper or laugh at me.”

  “I wonder what that’s like?” The deadpan delivery did nothing to undercut the sarcasm.

  “Sorry.”

  Ronni said, “What about Lauren?”

  “I haven’t really talked to her… .” Since the breakup with Noah, Hannah had seen Lauren only once, from a distance. The popular girl had been down the hall, near Adam’s locker, with some other guys. They were all talking and snickering, probably at someone’s expense, probably at Hannah’s. But maybe she was just being paranoid? Hannah hated to admit it, but she clung to the hope that Lauren might still deem Hannah worthy without Noah’s affections, that Lauren might side with her, eventually snubbing the boys and dissing them for their poor treatment of her friend. It was completely unrealistic—she knew that. And she kind of hated herself for wanting it.

  “Lauren doesn’t come to school much lately,” Hannah said. “And when she does, she seems pretty high.”

  “I haven’t heard from her,” Ronni said, tipping forward so her hair covered her face again.

  Hannah knew enough to change the subject. “What have you been doing?”

  “Netflix … Going to therapy … Painting.”

  “I didn’t know you painted.”

  “Mrs. Pittwell is making me go in the art show,” Ronni said, brushing the hair off her face before remembering and hiding behind her bangs again.

  “I’m going to be in it, too,” Hannah said. “I did some black-and-white photos in photography class.”

  “Mrs. Pittwell says it’s a good way for me to integrate back into the school.” She yawned. “Like I want to …”

  “Yeah.”

  “I’ll be going to a better private school next year anyway,” Ronni said, “after—” She caught herself and stopped.

  After your mom sues my parents for three million dollars? But Hannah wasn’t going to go there. She was a bigger person than that; she was the biggest person in this whole mess.

  “Can I see your painting?”

  Ronni hesitated, then shrugged. “I guess.” She stood and shuffled toward her room, her slippers scuffling along the hardwood floor like she didn’t have the energy to lift her feet. Hannah followed in her wake.

  While the rest of the apartment was fairly tidy, Ronni’s room was a mess: dirty clothes, coffee mugs, and magazines littered surfaces already cluttered with open makeup containers, hair products, and jewelry. Photos of Ronni’s former life still plastered the walls, but a few had fallen from their stations and lay forgotten on the floor. The double bed, unmade, took up most of the space, but in the center of the room, propped on a kitchen chair in lieu of an easel, was the painting.

  The deep canvas was about a foot by a foot. The background was painted a dark color, almost black but not black, a combination of gray and brown perhaps. Moving toward the center, the colors lightened, oranges, yellows, greens, until the fulcrum, where a luminous burst of turquoise splattered across the canvas. Hannah knew nothing about abstract art, but the painting was oddly haunting.

  “It’s great.”

  “It’s what I see out of my right eye.”

  See?

  Ronni turned to Hannah. For the first time, she didn’t bother to camouflage her eye with her hair. “People think that blind people are in the dark, but that’s not true… . Not for me anyway. When I close my other eye, I see all these colors and bursts and clouds.”

  “Sounds cool.”

  “It’s not.” Ronni turned back to face the painting. “It’s bright. And noisy. I can’t sleep. I can’t even think… .”

  Hannah stared at the painting. The color was too flat, the technique too rudimentary to convey light, and yet, somehow it did. Somehow, Hannah felt like she was inside Ronni’s head, seeing what Ronni saw.

  “I’m sorry,” Hannah said softly, emotion clogging her throat. She turned toward Ronni, but Ronni kept staring at the canvas. Hannah pushed on anyway. “I’m sorry about what happened to you at my house. I’m sorry my parents didn’t check on us before you fell. I wish I never had a birthday party.”

  Ronni’s gazed remained fixed. “It’s not your fault. We would have gotten wasted anywhere. I told my mom that. But she won’t stop.”

  “My parents have lots of money. They should help you.”

  Ronni turned toward her, damaged eye exposed again. “They’ve offered to help, but my mom says it’s not enough. She wants to ‘set me up for the future,’ ’cause, you know, now that I’m a hideous monster, I’ll never go to college, never get a job, never get married… .”

  “That’s not true,” Hannah said. “You’re not hideous.” But tears were filling her eyes as if to belie her words.

  “It is true,” Ronni said blandly. “Didn’t you see my Facebook page? Read the comments—I’m disgusting. I’m a freak. I deserve this because I was such a stuck-up bitch… . Maybe they’re right. I wasn’t that nice.”

  “They’re disgusting, not you!” Hannah’s voice was quivering and she felt perilously close to tears. She hadn’t come here to fall apart, but she could feel herself slipping closer to the edge. “I’m not friends with any of the popular kids anymore. I hate them. They’re horrible and they’re mean and they’re bullies. They think they’re so cool, but they’re stupid. They’re all going to grow up to be losers and drug addicts and assholes. And you and I can go on with our lives and we’ll never have to see any of them again.”

  “But I’ll still look like this.” Ronni looked down then, her hair forming its usual mask. “I was used to people staring at me because I was pretty and hot. And now they stare at me because I’m damaged and ugly.”

  “Looks aren’t everything.” God, she sounded like her mom.

  Ronni met Hannah’s gaze squarely. “I’m not smart like you are, Hannah. I’m not good at school or sports or anything really. But I was pretty and popular, so I had that… . Not anymore.”

  “You’re a good artist,” Hannah tried, indicating the painting.

  Ronni shrugged. “Yeah … I could probably get ten, maybe fifteen bucks for it.”

  It took Hannah a second to realize Ronni was joking. She went with it. “I’d push for twenty… .” Thankfully, Ronni giggled. It was so good to hear her friend’s laugh, to feel her spirit lift, just a little, that Hannah spontaneously hugged her. Ronni was unresponsive in the embrace—she’d never been affectionate or demonstrative—but eventually, Hannah felt the girl’s arms tighten around her, and her body relax toward her. She felt the shudder as Ronni let go and cried in Hannah’s arms.

  Ronni’s sobs, though soft, must have obscured the sound of Lisa’s entry. But suddenly, there she was, standing in the doorway. “No,” the woman said, moving into the room, a gust of hostile energy preceding her.

  Instinctively, the girls stepped apart. “Mom—” Ronni started, but Lisa interjected.

  “This is not happening.”

  Hannah was momentarily confused. Maybe Lisa thought there was something illicit in the girls’ embrace, but she knew Lisa was open-minded and gay-friendly. And yet, her disapproval of the situation was blatant. It had to be about Hannah. Lisa quickly confirmed it.

  “You can’t be here, Hannah. You can’t be Ronni’s friend right now.”

  Hannah had rehearsed her line about their parents supporting the friendship, but the tension was muddying her mind. How did it go again? Her vo
ice was tremulous. “My mom is willing to let us be friends even though—”

  “Don’t talk to me about your mother,” Lisa spat. “She doesn’t care about Ronni.”

  “Mom! Stop!” Ronni cried. “Hannah’s literally the only friend who has come to see me. Don’t chase her away.”

  “That’s not true,” Lisa said. “Those other girls came by… . Phoebe and the other two …”

  “They’re not my friends! They’re just, like, good Christians who visit people who are having a hard time.”

  Hannah tried again. “The lawsuit has nothing to do with me and Ronni. Why can’t we be friends?”

  “Because you can’t,” Lisa snapped, grabbing Hannah’s arm rather roughly. “Time to go.”

  “Ouch!” Hannah snatched her arm away. It wasn’t painful, exactly, but Lisa’s aggressiveness was frightening.

  “Jesus, Mom, you’re hurting her.”

  “She’s not hurt,” Lisa spat. “She’s perfectly fine.” Lisa looked at Hannah with such open contempt, that Hannah truly felt Lisa was capable of harming her. Tears sprang to Hannah’s eyes and she knew she had to flee. She had to get away from Lisa, from her rage and hatred, or she was going to fall apart. Hannah pushed her way past Lisa, out of the bedroom, and ran toward the front door.

  “Don’t go!” Ronni cried behind her, but Hannah couldn’t stop. She was almost at the door when she heard Ronni turn on Lisa. “Mom! What the fuck?”

  “This is for your own good,” Lisa said, then something like, “She is not your friend. Don’t let her fool you.”

  Hannah stepped into the stuffy stillness of the hallway and closed the door behind her. As she hurried down the hall, she could still hear mother and daughter yelling at each other. Mercifully, she couldn’t make out what they were saying.

  kim

  SIXTY-TWO DAYS AFTER

  Kim sat in the small, nondescript boardroom at Apex Outerwear, a polystyrene cup of water in front of her. She found it odd, the use of a foam cup, in a business that was all about appreciating nature and the outdoors. A reusable glass would have been more environmentally sustainable and on brand. She hated the thought of that cup sitting in a landfill for hundreds of years. And as she took a sip, she hated the way it felt on her teeth.