by Sarah Tork
Mother would be pleased; it’s a real shame she forgot to mention a dress code for this shindig. But I guess she told all her dear and close friends what the party was going to be like, then sent the poor excuse for an invitation with nothing more than a date, time, and place to little old me.
I am just her daughter.
I’m not important enough to be let in on the big secret.
Or is it a plan?
Has she planned this to humiliate me? To show everyone that I am never going to change? She knows I am not going to miss my dad’s birthday party, no matter what; unlike her, I actually like my dad. I’d skip her birthday party, no doubt about that.
While thinking what tonight’s event could have potentially been like, I smooth my dress gratefully for the one hundredth time. It isn’t going to turn out bad; I’m dressed to impress. My clothes were picked by an obvious top stylist, my hair was done up by a hair whisperer, and my makeup was applied by a master.
Yeah, I’m ready, ready to trample inside and give death glares to anyone who has the gall to address me in any other matter besides pure class.
I’m ready, so freakin’ ready.
Daniels pulls the car to the front entrance. I stare out, watching the party-goers walk with their families on the sidewalk, all dressed to the nines, just like I am.
A cold shiver tickles across my back as I examine each of their glossy, primed to a T outfits. The prospect of actually showing up to the party in my original clothes is going to take a while to evaporate from my system; it would have been a complete disaster, total life-altering humiliation. So much so, that I would have probably walked in and everyone would have pointed and whispered at first glance, and I would have turned right back around, swearing to myself to never, ever come home again.
Yeah, it would have been that bad.
And I’m going to say it again. Thank you, Xander. If it were not for you, that’s what would happen.
You saved me from pain and suffering, surprisingly.
I am a lady right now, someone who would have no problem fitting in, maybe even get a compliment or two, maybe even gawked at in pure jealously.
One could only hope; I don’t know what being envied feels like.
So here’s hoping today is the day for that first. I grab the handle of the door, and as I turn to say goodbye to Daniels, from the corner of my eye, I notice something that causes my body to instantly freeze.
Ben! I instantly let go of the door handle and lower my body below the window.
“The windows are tinted, Miss Gellys,” Daniels tells me with a hint of amusement.
Thank God for tinted windows! I blow out a sigh of relief as I spy the family of five trek up the stairs. The women, his mom and little sister’s dresses, are flowing beautifully against the evening wind. The men, his dad and little brother, all decked out in black and navy suits. Ben, however…I can’t really see what he is wearing; he is too far up the stairs.
So they showed up! Or rather, Mother had the nerve to invite the cheater and his family, but that shouldn’t surprise me, because A: Mom is a traitor who cares more about her bitchy best friend than her daughter, and B: it was all my fault anyway, so why should everyone have to suffer when I’m to blame. I should have been the one to apologize and get this stupid ordeal out of the way so everyone can go on and live their lives.
Calm down! I let go of my steel grip on the car’s door handle, forgetting how it got there in the first place. I must have gone somewhere dark; I still feel it, my blood feels as if it is moving in waves, rivaling the rivers of Colorado.
Yeah, I’m that angry right now.
“Is everything alright, Miss Gellys?” Daniels asks, sounding concerned.
I let go of the door handle and face him slowly. “I’m fine, well, as fine as I can be. But if you don’t mind, Daniels, I think I’m just going to wait for everyone to enter the building first, and then I’m going to go inside. Is that okay?” I ask him, and then take a long breath.
I need to exhale this bad shit out; there’s no way I’m going to be able to survive this night with anger of this magnitude running in my veins. I’ll be sure to snap prematurely, and then it’ll be the same old, same old.
“Not a problem, Miss Gellys. Would you like me to move the car further down? It’s a little weird to stand idle right in front of the entrance, don’t you think?” Daniels asks.
I nod in agreement. “Yeah, staying here isn’t a good idea,”
Daniels moves the car further down the path, out of the suspicious eyes of the passersby; I can still see who is coming, though.
Mom’s invited everyone.
They invited me, so why wouldn’t they invite everyone else, too?
If I hadn’t have left home when I did, I would have probably been taken to a mental ward for examination, my psyche would have been fucked for sure by now.
But would I have been a psycho that would have forgiven and forgotten in regards to Ben?
My mind wanders back all those months ago, to the last time I spoke and saw Ben.
The night we broke up.
I remember that night like it just happened. I’ve only thought about it every single night since it happened.
‘Why’ by Annie Lenox began playing on the radio on the drive to meet Ben for the first time since catching him in the act during Kyle’s party, an act that he had denied repeatedly as life changing via text ever since.
I disagree whole-heartedly, and have avoided seeing him, only allowing him the pleasure of speaking to me via text or email.
Nothing face-to-face, not until now, at least.
I do not need this right now. But I continue to remember. I feel sick as the song’s lyrics commands control over my brain, forcing me to go back to all the times Ben and I’d had together.
It’s made me turn soft. I need to feel anything but soft right now. I need to be tough if I am going to stand my ground against him; saying that, he has no problem casting the blame and responsibility over this way.
Me.
I’m to blame. Apparently.
What the hell did I do? I didn’t make him kiss that little redheaded skank. He did that all on his own.
I am about to enter a war ground, and if the queasy feeling in the pit of my stomach doesn’t let go, I am about to sink, and fast.
I’d pulled into the parking lot of one of the local parks in the neighborhood where both our houses were. I could see him sitting on a picnic bench as I parked my beloved red 2002 Ford Focus.
He’d looked so good in his Carleton University sweatshirt and basketball shorts. His muscular legs looked glorious under the moonlight. As I had walked over, he’d flipped his hood off and turned to face me.
Scowling.
“I can’t believe you actually decided to show up,” he said. The tone of his voice made my blood run cold. Who did he think he was, and why did he think he could speak to me with attitude when he was the one who did me wrong?
“I said I’d come, even though you don’t deserve to even speak with me. You should be thanking me. I’ve been more than generous giving you time you don’t even deserve!” I replied in a similar tone to his.
How do you like me now? I thought to myself.
His eyes bulged. Looking back, I’m sure it was at the audacity of my tone. I didn’t normally speak to him like that; usually, I’d have conceded until then. So right about then, he was in double shock mode. He jumped off the picnic bench and marched to halt right in front of me, towering over me with his six-foot-one frame.
“What the hell are you talking about? You’ve been ignoring me for weeks!” he’d shouted back angrily.
Well, at least he’d been effected; I’d made him angry, clearly. But that didn’t mean I was going to let him speak to me like that. I was not the pushover he or Mom still thought I was; it was time to stand up for myself, to show him and anyone else that Marisa was someone they needed to, and would, answer to if crossed wrongly.
I could play, t
oo. If anything, I was just as angry as he was, if not more.
“Why the hell would I want to speak with you, let alone hear your sad excuse? You were plastering your lips against that midget’s diseased lips!” I’d yelled back, tilting my head to face him. His eyes widened in disbelief, obviously flabbergasted, yet still silent. I was on a role. It was time to steam over, make my point firmly.
“Did you go see a doctor – No? Well, you should. In fact, I think I spot a few red spots around your lips. Might be infectious,” I’d informed him snidely, digging it in the best I could.
“Shut it, Marisa! Enough of your smartass. You’re not funny, and that’s not funny at all!” he snapped back; he jerked his jaw from left to right.
Mission accomplished.
“Yeah – okay – you’re not fooling anyone!” I snapped back, slightly quieter. I knew my face was red, even though I was trying to play it cool, like I didn’t care. I fucking did, though – so much so, I’d felt a burst of tears awaiting. One wrong word and I was done for.
“I’m not fooling you! Marisa, take a good look at yourself, take a good, long fucking look at yourself!” He’d given me the old up-and-down before going on with his angered rant. “You’re fucking lazy. You’re going nowhere in life!” he hissed back.
Well that was spiteful, bringing in the fact that I was at a crossroads with what I wanted to do with my life.
Low-blow.
If I’d thought my blood ran cold before, it felt icy now. The way he’d looked at me, the sound of his voice, the look in his eyes. It was as if he didn’t see me as anything of worth, as if I wasn’t even good enough for mediocrity status.
“Then if I’m so shitty, why the hell are you with me? Isn’t that why you cheated?” I’d snapped whilst emphasizing ‘cheated’.
Ben took a step back and visibly took a deep breath. “For the millionth time, I didn’t cheat!” he’d retorted, exasperated.
My jaw dropped. “You were making out with that fucking slut right in front of me!” I yelled back in disbelief.
“I didn’t cheat!”
“What do you call making out with someone who isn’t your girlfriend?” I’d yelled in one breath, bewildered.
“I was drunk out of my mind!”
“Oh – so that’s the excuse you’re going to keep rolling with, you were drunk?!”
“Yes, it’s the fucking truth! I drank like crazy that night; I was all alone at a party for the thousandth time while you were working at Dairy Queen!”
“So, it’s my fault now?!”
“Took you long enough!”
“I can’t believe you!”
“Well, I can’t believe you! You’re always late for everything, and expect everyone to always wait for you. The worst part is your fucking twenty-two and you still work at Dairy Queen. You’re not even embarrassed, even though all our friends are getting real jobs and moving out!”
That did it.
“There is nothing wrong with my job! I love my job. At least I have a job; you still get money from your mommy and daddy!” I snapped back.
“I have a university degree, and I’m trying to start a business! What the fuck are you doing with your life? Nothing! All you’re good at doing is acting like a pathetic waste of space!”
Spiteful, low-blow number two, or two-thousand? I wasn’t sure at this point. I’d lost count.
Silence.
No words were spoken for the next minute. From my part, it was on purpose to stay silent; I didn’t trust myself not to burst into a hysterical fit of tears once I’d open my mouth.
I’d needed to calm myself down before I retaliated.
Taking a deep breath, I’d taken my turn to speak.
“Well then, I guess it was fate,” I’d told him slowly, quietly. “I’m such a waste of space, and you’re the one going places with your university degree and business plans. You’re doing yourself a disservice by being with a pathetic time-waster like myself.”
I’d tucked my hands into my hoodie’s pockets and looked to the ground; this was going to be hard for me to do, officially do. But after what he did, after what he said to me, called me, I had no choice.
“I wish you the very best of luck in life…”
Ben had let out an exaggerated huff of disbelief, interrupting me.
I kept going, though.
“I hope everything works out the way you want, and I hope you find someone that’s at the level you think you’re on,” I said slowly, lifelessly.
I didn’t look up, I couldn’t look up. If I did, then game over.
“What the fuck are you mumbling about?” Ben had exclaimed, irritated, trying to play stupid, and pretending he didn’t actually hear me break up with him.
I did.
“You heard me – loud and clear. It’s over,” I’d told him, then quickly turned around and speed-walked toward my red Ford Focus.
Get to the car – Now!
“What?!” Ben had muttered loudly, confused. “Where do you think you’re going? We’re not done here!”
I heard his frantic footsteps pound into the grass, trying to catch up to me, which he did in no time.
My Ben – slash that – my ex-Ben, is fast, he ran track in high school.
“Stop making this all about you!” he yelled from behind me all of a sudden. I didn’t stop, but the speed-walking soon turned into running.
“You’re making a fool of yourself!” he yelled right behind me.
When I reached the driver’s door, I turned to see Ben. He’d stopped running and was walking toward me, looking disgusted and shaking his head at me. “Go away, Ben, don’t come anywhere near me!” I ordered, but Ben didn’t listen; he just kept walking toward me. “It’s over, you don’t need to worry about me or what I’m doing, not that you did that before, anyway.”
I shake my head to wipe away the brutal memories. It’s time to face reality again.
The party.
I snap out of the flashback moment of the second worst day of my life and check the time on my phone; it’s almost 7:15 pm. I check the parking lot; it doesn’t seem like there is anyone else coming.
“I think that’s it for guests, Daniels,” I tell him, relieved.
“I agree, Miss Gellys,” Daniels replies.
“Okay, I’m going to go in now.” I reach for the door for the millionth time, and this time I pull against it, making the door open. Before I step a foot out, I turn to Daniels, “Wish me luck?”
“Good luck. I’ll be waiting in that spot right over there when you’re ready to leave.” Daniels points to a parking spot.
I nod. “Okay, see you in a little bit.”
I get out of the car, instantly smoothing out my dress, then examining for any wrinkles. Thank God, there are none. I shut the door behind me and make my way to the front entrance.
Here goes nothing.
Chapter Two
*Marisa*
The Pacific Banquet Hall’s front entrance doors take the thrust of two arms to push through successfully. Here’s hoping I don’t get bitten by the sweat fairy and show up after five months like I’ve just jogged from wherever I moved to.
They totally would think that, because they’re them and I’m me. I’m a laugh, and the old me would actually run to a party if I was running late, and if it was close to my house.
I’m a laugh, what can I say? I do – No – I did do things like that, and now, I don’t understand why, either.
Here’s to growing up.
As soon as I enter inside the facility, a blast of air conditioning bursts on top of me, flowing freely through my fab dress and another place, bringing me back to a place I am trying to forget.
You’re clean; you’ve cleaned yourself thoroughly! I remind myself for the millionth time. This is a problem that I’ve already dealt with. So why can’t I move past it?
I don’t know, maybe it’s because I woke up in some random skank’s underwear?!
Breathe.
The fron
t lobby of the two-story brick facility is empty – thank God – while I’m having my moment of gathering myself. I’m glad the staff aren’t around to watch me; I’m sure my face, since I am an open book when it comes to showcasing how I feel at any particular moment, would have been pure comedy.
Mom is probably keeping them all busy with her party. God knows that woman is a slave driver when she wants to be, especially when it comes to parties.
She likes to do them all flash and cash, show the people how it’s done. I was the only thing she’d usually blame when things weren’t going a certain way, or if she had a weird feeling that the partygoers weren’t as impressed as they should have been. Something must have gone wrong, or rather, someone was ruining the overall picture of the façade she was trying to create.
Little old me.
So I didn’t act it up like she did. That did not mean I ruined the atmosphere of her parties. In my opinion, I was a welcoming host who tried her very best to make sure things ran smoothly.
“Why do you insist on embarrassing your father and me, Marisa? Honestly! Purple and brown?” I remembered a memorable quote from last year during a little party she was having at the house. I decided to wear my purple sweater with my dark-brown slacks, which I cuffed at the bottom because they were a tad bit too long.
I got them on sale, and sometimes you just have to make things work when you choose to buy things on sale. Did I mention I bought all my own clothes, and paid for all my bills when I lived with them? I may not have graduated from university like Ben did, but unlike him, I didn’t mooch off my parents for everything under the sun.
