So this is what hate feels like. I glare at her, across the room standing there with him. Tall, blond, slender, perfect complexion, adorable smile, and bright eyes; and him and his lean athletic build, soft square jawline, charming smile, deep blue green eyes, dark curly hair, smooth olive complexion (exactly how I always imagined Sir Lancelot to look like… dreamy. Whatever, they look perfect together.
This isn't the way it was supposed to be. She is with MY Jeremy. She smirks at me knowingly, as if she is rubbing it in. She knows I'm competition, oh she knows. My blood boils with detestation and envy. To think I am not the jealous type. I wasn't anyways; I wasn't when it was just he and I. Jeez, I let him out of my sight for one weekend, okay five weeks, and everything we were, everything we had unravels. Enter the fair Hermia and Demetrius runs away. So what? That makes me Helena? I am made a fool.
It's bad enough being the fool. I can handle that? I know how to handle that with grace and poise. But, here and now? I feel like my heart has been ripped out of my chest and stomped on, or better yet like every bit of my insides are just crumbling to the floor in pieces. It's a wonder that I am still able to stand upright.
I make a dash for the drink table, grab a red wine, quickly down the glass, and ask for another. The bartender tells me to go easy. I tell him that it's impossible to go easy when your heart has just been trampled on.
“Are you sure you don't want a shot?” he asks sardonically or maybe it was suggestively. I miss the intonation because I'm preoccupied. I simply and politely thank him and say I'd stick to red wine that night. I then find a spot directly across the room from them, so that I could let my wound fester a little more.
In this moment, I hate her. I hate her smile, her hair, her clothes, her laugh. I especially hate her infectious laugh. Its not one of those sickeningly girly ones, or a high pitched giggle, but its hearty and feminine at the same time. She is everything a man should fall for. She is absolutely horrid. How could he go for her? How could her bring her?
He knew I would be here tonight. He knows I know her. Why didn't he warn me when we talked about this party earlier in the week? A heads up would have been helpful. Then I wouldn't feel like I was getting smacked in the face by a line drive I didn't see coming; then I wouldn't feel the fool. Maybe that was his plan all along.
Unless he was completely oblivious, and that was debatable, I couldn't hide my shock from him when I walked into the party and saw her standing there with him. Did he know I hated her? No, he couldn't have known. I didn't even know it myself until just now. If he didn't know before, I suspect he knows now.
I make eye contact with him. I can tell he sees the pain in my eyes, he sees that he really hurt me. He looks away uncomfortably. I look at him in disbelief. I turn on my heel and walk to the other side of the room. I would have stomped, but I was trying to be somewhat classy in public.
The bartender catches my attention as I pass the bar again, asking if I want another. “Is it that painfully obvious?” I ask disappointed in myself.
“Yes,” he says as he refills my glass and looks at me smugly, “And, if you need someone to take your mind off of him afterwards, I get off at midnight.” He winks at me. “I'm Kevin. Just come find me.” Awesome, I have no idea whether I am just that good looking or have that air of desperation about me for a bartender to be hitting on me. I must look completely desperate. I smile and walk away.
I begin to stalking around the party, like a jungle cat circling her prey. My eyes remain fixed always on them. I imagine myself going up to her, tripping just in front of her and spilling my drink all over her. I thought of paying someone else to do that.
I imagine going up to her, throwing my drink in her face and smacking her across the cheekbone, across her perfect cheekbone. The slut. She'd deserve it.
I feel a tap on my shoulder. I jolt back to reality, dropping my drink in the process. I turn around looking at the mess I'd made and then the person who startled me. Brown slip on dress shoes, worn in blue jeans, blue and white striped dress shirt; I'd know that outfit anywhere. It was Alex, my supposed best friend. How could he not have at least warned me?
“Are you okay?” He asks sincerely concerned. I guess I couldn't find fault in him for checking in on me.
“Never better,” I say, shrugging my shoulders.
“Alright then, are you aware that all your glaring is beginning to scare the locals?” he jests, surely. I ponder for a moment. I guess I should tone it down a bit.
I look down again at my mess. Unfortunately it was a plastic cup, not glass. The shattering would have been gratifying. I'm glad I wore black shoes. They hide the red of the wine very well. I thank Alex, pat his shoulder, and find the bathroom to clean up. I feel his eyes on the back of my head wondering why the hell I thanked him; it wasn't an appropriate response for the situation. I don't think I was capable of being appropriate in any sense of the concept. Who can be appropriate or rational when the love of her life shows up to a party with some little tramp?
There's a line. Of course there is always a line for the ladies room. She snakes her way in front of me at the last second. With all those nasty thoughts running through my head, I deserved it. She is still no less of a bitch. She gets to the bathroom and takes her sweet little time. What happened to being adults? I think she was doing this on purpose. I imagine grabbing her scrawny neck on her way out of the bathroom and wringing it. Maybe then she will get the point. Maybe going for the neck is a bit extreme; a nice friendly Indian burn will do the trick. Then again, that's just childish. Maybe I'll just trip her accid…
The door opens with force, right into me before I could finish my thought. “Ow!” I shout.
“Oh sorry, I didn't see you there. Are you okay?” she says smugly feigning concern as she walks away. The “AY” in okay ended in a higher inflection, much like that of a valley girl. Stupid blonde's.
“I'm fine, its fine,” I say gritting my teeth. What I really wanted to say was, “Oh really, I was standing right behind you in line. That's what a line is.” Civilized I had to remind myself; maybe I misstepped too close to the door. Bitch, I was thinking to myself.
I clean myself up and grab another drink before I go back to my glaring. She's over there, rubbing my nose in the shitty fact that she's here with him. She is over there, moving in on my guy. Okay so he is technically not my guy, but we had something special and she pulled the rug out from under me. You just don't recover easily from that.
There she is laughing with my friends. Wait. Those are my friends, what am I doing over here? I walk over confidently. One of them asks where I've been all night, and gives a knowing glance to him. Alex is there, he nudges me and I glance at Jeremy. He knows our friend is implying that I've been avoiding them because of her. She's awful.
I join in the conversation. She tries to keep up with us but can't. This is what I needed all night. My words are my weapons as I wield a twisted and sharp discourse. She shuts up. The look on her face is priceless, like she doesn't know what to do when she can't win at everything. Not that there was anything to be won or lost, so to speak. She looks like a little lost puppy. That's what you get for messing with me. In my mind I had the whole ‘head bob, finger snap” attitude going on that my roommate Katie always had. I really hope that was just in my head because that would just look silly. I wanted to stick my tongue out at her. Again, I had to remind myself be civilized.
There appears a glint in her eye. She smirks at me, slides her arm around him, and raises her eyebrows suggestively at me. Damn. Check and mate. The rage in my eyes grows. I am thankful the lights are dim. No one can see me blush, or the green shade of envy filling my every pore. Great, I probably match the color of my eyes. Talk about green-eyed monster, I had never taken that notion so literally. My even greener eyes will just stick out against my red hair, I am sure of it. I excuse myself, down my drink in one gulp, and walk away. Note to self: never chug red wine more than once in a night.
Air, I need air. I step outside, squat down and brace my back against a wall. Why did I like him in the first place? I try and focus on work and this is what happens, my arch nemesis moves in on my man. Why she was my arch nemesis, I don't really know. Figure of speech? Again I can't really call him my man either. I didn't really have claim on him. It's just that it was pretty obvious we were something. Something, such an ambiguous term. Something is so noncommittal, something is so nothing. Fuck my life right now.
I wish I had a baseball and a glass wall in front of me. I'd throw it as hard as I could and shatter the wall. Watch the pieces crumble just like me.
Alex walks out to check on me. “I'm fine,” I say. If you call having your heart ripped from your chest and trampled on by some troll of a girl, then yes, I am fine. He backs off and lets me be. Its official, I hate her.
After a cigarette and a pep talk from Alex, we walk back in. He tries to head me off as I head for another drink, but I beat him to it. That's when I see it, my window of opportunity. I eye Jeremy. Alone. Finally I walk over to him. He smiles at me. I feign a smile, fighting back tears.
I can't do this.
I move to walk away and he grabs me by the arm. “Sorry,” he says softly. “Jess and I are getting out of here soon. I really only stayed so long because I wanted to see you.” I had no words, and gave him a quizzical look. What's that supposed to mean? Did she know this? I really hope she did.
“Its been a while, we need to catch up soon,” I say, smiling like the fact that he's there with her doesn't bother me.
“Yeah, sure,” he agrees. We hug. The hug makes my heart sink a little more. A single tear escapes my eye. My lashes flutter preventing anymore from escaping. We let go. I take a step back, quickly wipe the tear, say it was nice seeing him, and walk away before I actually break down. The last thing I want is for him to see me cry.
I don't pay attention to where I am walking or to whom, just away. Someone gets in my way, blocks my path, and spills their drink all over me in the process. My new dress ruined. Go figure.
I sigh, shake myself off and look at the other person. It's her. I hate her. At this point I lose it a little. Maybe more than a little, but, all I remember saying is “what's your problem? Lay off me, okay?” I think I said other things when she tried to retort. Alex steps in to separate us and calm me down, but mostly to make sure I don't get violent. I wasn't going to. Well, I don't think so anyways. She huffs off and finds Jeremy. From the looks of it to get him to leave.
He makes eye contact with me from across the room as they walk out together. He smiles at me and shrugs his shoulders in a playful way. He looks back once more and winks at me as if to dare me to make a move. Well, I can't very well go down with out a fight. He knows it. Does he?
Game on.
A half hour goes by, or at least it feels that long. I rush outside again and pull out my phone. I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn around; Alex is standing right behind me. Damn him.
“Don't do it,” he urges me and holds out his hand, requesting the silly thing. I think I give him a disgruntled look, I probably just made a stupid face, and hand him my phone.
I don't think I'm even able to make tangible words, just irritated and enraged noises as I stomp my feet like a three- year old child having a temper tantrum. The sane part of my persona knew I needed to check myself. The bat-shit crazy part thought this was perfectly acceptable behavior. I imagine Sane body checking Crazy into a wall; but then if Sane did that, would it then be as crazy as Crazy? I have no idea.
I have no time to continue contemplating this thought because my foot quite suddenly gives way and snaps out from under me. Fuck! My shoe broke. As I begin to collapse Alex catches me, but can't save both me and my phone. It falls to the ground as Alex braces me. It bounces a few times before finally landing safely on the concrete. I would not have, I would have landed with a hard thud, a crushed ego, and bruised tailbone. I bend down to pick it up, Alex still supporting me. Only the case is scratched. Thank God I invested in the expensive, durable case. I wonder though if I should get the waterproof one instead.
“Alright, Mags, get off of me,” Alex grunts.
Wait, how did I collapse into Alex? Oh yeah, Jeremy. Stupid Jeremy and that stupid blonde wench. I brood again and Alex just sighs and pushes me up. I stand awkwardly and look down at my shoe. These were my favorite shoes, I'd had them for five years and they never once failed me, until now. Stupid Jeremy, for ruining them. He ruins everything. Though, I guess, it's not entirely his fault I was childishly stomping around, not directly anyways. I can still blame him.
“Mags,” Alex reasons with me, “You were M.I.A. for almost five weeks. What did you think was going to happen?” He has his hands on both my shoulders as if he is going to shake some sense into me. The sane part of me wishes he would.
“I thought he'd wait around for me,” I pout.
“Were you ever actually dating?” He lets go of me. I think my pouting made him feel bad.
“We went out on dates!” I argue defensively. Technically we did go out on dates. They each ended with a kiss. Alex already knew we did though, he knew everything about both of us.
“Yes, but was it with any frequency?” I hated it when he had somewhat of a point. We technically dated but it was somewhat inconsistent because of my stupid work schedule. God I hate freelancing. That was a lie. I loved it. I loved being an associate producer. I loved making drama, creating drama; though, I perhaps sometimes it bleeds into my real life too much. No matter, I really only hated it when it screwed with my life.
“Yeah, for like three months, and then he met that stupid girl at my stupid party that I threw before I was going to have no life for five weeks.” And, I don't think Alex knew that piece of information. Whoops.
“Wait, you know her?” He backhands my arm, reprimanding my behavior. I stumble backwards into the wall. Sometimes I feel like his kid sister. That describes our relationship really: brother and sister, both at times the kid.
“Kinda”
“What's kinda?”
“She works for my show in a completely different department that I accidentally invited to that party a few weeks ago because she just happened to be standing around in the kitchen with my friend when I was talking about it and I didn't want to be rude so I asked her if she wanted to come.” I rushed through that explanation trying to not make it sound that bad. It was exactly as bad as it sounded.
It wasn't as bad as it sounded, no it was worse.
“Do you know how crazy you must have seemed to her?
“Yeah,” I manage to squeak out knowingly.
“You've known Jeremy for three years now, you know he dates around.”
“Three years, five months, and four days to be exact,” I say definitively. I know the day, it's actually the pass code to my phone. It was Alex's birthday party, Jeremy had just moved into town and in with Alex. They were best friends from childhood, which trumps my status as college and now New York best friend. I realize that thought about the passcode is completely, absurdly crazy, and I look down at my phone while proceeding to change the passcode to some other random four numbers.
Alex doesn't say anything to me, just watching me fiddling with my phone. He sees what I'm doing, he doesn't ask. I'm sure he's thankful he doesn't see me texting Jeremy, in which case he would have to take my phone and hold it hostage for a while. He just stands with his hands on his hips and giving me a disappointed and disapproving look. I already know what he's going to ask next. He is not going to approve of my answer.
Very slowly he asks, “How long have you been in love with him?”
I look down at the ground and very quietly muffle, “Three years, five months, three days and I suppose a few hours.”
He raises his eyebrows, “What?”
“Three years, five months, three days and I suppose a few hours, okay!” I say spastically as I throw my hands up in the air, turn around and try to walk away. I catch myself as I almost fall. I forgot I broke my shoe.
“Dammit Mags!” He yells. “This is like Matt all over again, isn't it? Did you guys actually date at all, or did you just build that up in your head like you did with Matt? I mean I was in support of you two, but this is different.”
I make a few objecting noises, but can't find any actual words. I must look like I am about to cry because Alex just hugs me and sighs. “Mags, I'm sorry. I know you guys actually dated. I just hate seeing you like this.” I must look pathetic right now. “Come on, let's get our coats and go home.”
He leaves me there braced against the wall while he makes his way back inside to grab our things. I'm not sure they would have let me back in anyways, because either I was too drunk or because of my current state. All I know is that I am eternally grateful that Alex lives with his girlfriend only two blocks from me. I am even more grateful that he no longer lives with Jeremy. I think I would be in hell if that were the case.
He returns a few moments later and hails a cab while I pull on my coat. His arm around me, he ushers me into the cab. For a moment I feel terrible for everything he puts up with from me, “Alex, thank you,” I say, “and I'm sorry.”
He starts laughing and I smack his arm. “Ow!” he says still laughing at me.
“Jeez! Im being serious for once, and all you do is laugh!”
“Well you, strong, independent you, all mopey over this,” he begins to lose his words in his laughter. “Its really funny. You're lucky you're one of my favorite people in the world, otherwise I wouldn't put up with you.” I sit up straight and cross my arms as I pretend to pout.
“Thanks, I guess.” I say dryly and roll my eyes at him, I feel like I do that a lot. He laughs again and jokingly pinches my cheek. That makes me laugh and coming to my senses again I ask where Cassie was tonight.
“Oh, she's out of town right now for some big meeting, she'll be back Wednesday,” he explains. I love, love, love him and Cassie; in general, but mostly because I can still be best friends with him and she's not concerned one bit. Not that she should have any reason to be. I should just stop thinking.
Alex gets us home. I hobble up the stairs and into my building, making sure to stop at the trash room to deposit my now broken shoes. I trudge up the three flights of stairs shoeless. I look at my phone, its only one am, Katie might still be up if she's home. Im not sure if I want to see her or not, but I guess I'll find out.
I fumble my keys into the top lock, but before I have a chance at the second, the door swings in.
“Hi friend,” Katie says walking into the bathroom. “How was the party?”
“Miserable, Jeremy brought a girl,” I grumbled as I set my pocket book down and take off my jacket. Pocketbook? Where did that term come from anyways? Its certainly no book, and usually just gives me back problems.<span style="mso-spacerun:y