by Danyelle Hershkopf
Click here to read Part 1 and Part 2
The week of the party passed like every other week. Go to class. Eat. Sleep. Listen to John ramble on about some book he read. See Yulian and muster up a tense smile. Fist-bump Nate without looking him in the eye. Pretend not to see Mei as she walks down the hall.
I got comfortable on the couch again, as Brandon got ready to write. He asked how my week was, what I did, but I wanted to cut to the chase.
“I went to a party and it was horrible,” I said.
“Why? Did someone bother you?”
“Yes. And no.” I take a deep breath, and began.
Yulian Stroganoff lived in a big house, and liked to show it off by having parties every month or so. Specifically, he was showing it off to whoever he liked at the moment, and then would throw a party to cover that fact up, ‘cause he was way to afraid to be forward about his flirting. John and I arrived at eight-thirty. As we walked in, I was wondering who else was there. Read: who did I have to avoid. I don’t remember a lot of what happened, but I remember it not being too bad. Occasionally someone would come up and talk to me, and sometimes there would be someone who wouldn’t look relieved that I’m not holed up in my room, wearing all black.
I’d strike up a good conversation. I drank some punch (non-alcoholic, since Yulian saved that stuff for himself and Person-of-Month). I’m pretty sure I laughed a few times. Suddenly, I didn’t feel like I was that weird kid everyone thought was being overdramatic about mourning his girlfriend, or that somber fellow who really needed a hug or whatever. I actually was having fun.
So of course John’s temper ruined it.
We were standing in the kitchen, filling up our glasses. We were talking about something or other when this girl, Jen Kay, walked passed us. She glanced at John before walking faster towards someone else.
“Didn’t you used to talk to her?” I asked. I could have sworn that she and John were in sixth grade together.
John scoffed. “Nope.”
“Why?”
John sighed. “Childhood friends can be like dolls. Some, like you, last forever. Some are lost but then found again. And then some you play with a lot as a kid, but eventually you outgrow them. There will be times when you pick it up again, but then, once you’re bored, you toss the doll aside.” John gulped down some punch before setting his cup on the counter. He stared out into the distance.
I laughed. Nearly spilled my punch, at that. “Did you find that quote online or something?”
A red plastic cup hit me in the chest. John’s face was as red as the cup. “No! I wrote it for the book I’m working on!”
I kept laughing, clutching my side. “Sorry man.”
John folded his arms across his chest and looked back at the crowd. The music was getting louder. “I thought that line was deep,” John muttered.
“It was. For pretentious love stories.”
John turned around, fists clenched. “Don’t hate on it just because your love-life failed.”
I stared at John blankly, and slowly set down my cup. John’s face fell, and he began to shake his head. “Oh my God, I am so sorry, crap that was stupid, I’m sorry I—”
“Calm down. It’s okay,” I said, shrugging.
“You sure?”
“Of course. Stop apologizing. It’s annoying.”
And that’s it.
I took a breath again, as Brandon wrote down what I said. “John gets mad real easy,” I explained. I didn’t want to make him seem like a villain. He just tends to make mountains out of anthills.
“I see. Do you?” Brandon asked, looking up.
“Nah.”
“How did his comment ruin everything?”
I shrug. “’Cause for once, I wasn’t thinking about Ruby-Scarlet. Once he mentioned her, I just thought of how she’d have probably come late to the party or would have been drawing people quickly. Before that, I was actually moving on.”
“By not thinking about her, until she’s mentioned?”
“Isn’t that how you do it?”
Brandon sighed. “I don’t know,” he admitted. “Everyone deals with grief differently. But if you need to ignore her existence to feel like you again, then I’d say that you haven’t moved on.”
I looked away, and chose to stare at the shag rug beneath my feet. I had been trying to forget her. How could I not? But once John mentioned her, I couldn’t stop thinking about her. But I wasn’t thinking about her at the party like I said.
I was thinking about how I was at a party while she was six feet under. How I was having fun, but it was my fun and bright ideas that caused her drowning in the first place. Should I mention that? I should. Brandon needs to know everything.
But how can I say it?
“Brandon?” I ask. “I was wondering…how do you get rid of survivor’s guilt?”
“That depends on why you’re guilty,” Brandon replied.
I clammed up, my throat getting drying by the second. I couldn’t spit it out. Funny, since on that day I was all talk.
“Why don’t you tell me about your relationship with Ruby-Scarlet?” Brandon asked. “That might help me help you.”
I look up at him. Hm. Well, she was on my mind again anyways. Slowly, I nod.
