by Paul Hina
coat. Her red, floral pattern dress hangs near the outside of her shoulders, exposing a good deal of skin. It's a strange dress for her to wear in the winter, but he appreciates her bare arms, and those thin, elegant wrists of hers. The skirt of her dress falls just above her knees, and, since Michael has rarely seen her when she's not behind a desk, he can't help but sneak a look at her long legs.
She is a tall, breathtaking woman, and he knows he could love her. Maybe, he already does.
But she's not his tonight.
"And this is Tim, a friend of Holly's," Annie says as a young man enters the room—a young, handsome man.
And, just like that, Michael's panic returns.
Annie whispers something to Eric. She looks briefly at Michael as she whispers, and he assumes that, whatever she's saying, it has something to do with him. It's clear that her and Eric are thrown by the fact that Holly has brought an unexpected guest, and that Michael's shame is exposed. Annie, even, looks almost as flustered as he feels.
Then Annie takes Holly by the arm.
"We're going to the kitchen to start getting things ready," Annie says as they leave the room.
"I'll come with you," Amy says, leaving Wendy behind thumbing through Eri's vast record collection. Wendy nervously watches them leave, and suddenly she looks as awkward as everyone else who's been left behind. You get the since that she would've liked to have left the room with Amy, but waited too long to act, and now she's stuck in a suddenly very quiet living room with three men she barely knows.
"What were you thinking?" Annie asks Holly as they move to the kitchen.
"About what?"
"Bringing someone."
"I didn't want to come by myself."
"You wouldn't have been by yourself. We're here."
"You know what I mean."
"No, I know that you've embarrassed me and Eric, and God knows how Michael feels. He looks absolutely mortified."
"Why should he be mortified?"
"Seriously?"
"What?"
"You were supposed to be coming here to be with him tonight. That was the whole reason we were having this party, to get you two together."
"You're kidding?"
"No," Annie says, shaking her head, "I'm not kidding."
"I had no idea."
"Yes you did."
"I did not."
"So, you're saying," Annie says, pouring wine into three glasses, "that you had no idea that tonight was a setup."
"My hand to God."
"You don't believe in God."
"It's an expression," Holly says, grabbing a glass of wine from Annie. "Besides, I can assure you that if I did know, I would've never agreed to come."
"But you did know that he was going to be here?"
"I did, but—"
"And you know how he feels about you?"
"I know that he's interested, yes."
"Interested? More like obsessed."
"You talking about Michael?" Amy asks, grabbing a glass of wine.
"Yes, Michael," Holly says.
"He's cute," Amy says.
"Right?" Annie says, looking at Holly.
"I guess," Holly says.
"He is," Annie says. "You know he is. You're just being contrarian."
"So, he thought tonight was a date?" Holly asks.
"Yes. We all did."
"No, not all of us."
"God, that is embarrassing," Amy says.
"Well, it's not my fault. I blame Eric."
"Eric? How is it Eric's fault?" Annie asks.
"He wasn't clear. He never said anything about coming here to set me up with Michael."
"What did he say?"
"Just that… He told me that you guys were having a party, and he asked if I would come, and then, almost as an afterthought, he told me that Michael was coming, and that Michael was looking forward to seeing me."
"That sounds like something to me," Annie says.
"What something? No, that sounds like nothing."
"Amy, does that sound like something to you?"
"I don't know. Maybe. I'd probably think that he meant something just by mentioning that Michael was going to be here, particularly if I knew that Michael was interested in me."
"Any perceptive person would have seen that he meant something," Annie says.
"Okay, so I'm not perceptive. But there's nothing I can do about now," Holly says, and takes a large gulp of wine. "But, now, I feel bad. I hope you’re happy, Annie."
"No, you're right. We can't do anything about it now."
"So, Tim. What's up with him?" Amy asks.
"Nothing's up with him. He's just my beard."
"Your beard?" Amy asks.
"Yeah, I brought him because I knew Michael was going to be here, and I was hoping to avoid any flirty awkwardness."
"Come on, you like it when he flirts," Annie says. "I've seen you with him. You like the attention."
"I do not."
"You do."
Holly looks at Annie with a serious look on her face, but then she smiles. She clearly does like Michael's flirting.
"Does your beard know he's a beard?" Amy asks.
"Yeah, he knows. He's an old friend of John's," Holly says, and then there is a long silence that descends. Annie is looking down into the mashed potatoes.
Amy is looking out into the empty dining room.
"Guys, I think we can get beyond the awkward silences whenever John is mentioned," Holly says. "Isn't it time?"
"Yes, it's time." Annie says.
"You're right. Sorry," Amy says.
"Don't be sorry. You didn't kill him," Holly says, deadpan.
"Holly. That's a terrible thing to say," Annie says.
"Just trying to lighten the mood a bit."
Annie starts scooping mashed potatoes out of a large aluminum tray and into a serving bowl. "Holly, can you get me a serving spoon out of that drawer behind you?"
"Why are we women-folk stuck here in the kitchen?" Holly asks, grabbing a spoon and handing it to Annie. "Shouldn't we be beyond this by now?"
"Yes, we're so oppressed," Amy says, sarcastically.
"Right," Annie says. "And I've been slaving over this fully catered dinner all day."
"Yeah, but, still, we're all in here, and all the men are out there."
"Not all of us," Amy says. "Wendy's still out there."
"Besides, if it bothers you so much, go out there and send Eric in to help. He'll get more done than you anyway."
"But I don't want to be out there with them."
"Then that's why you're in here with us," Annie says.
"I guess it does give me an excuse to sneak more wine," Holly says.
"Speaking of wine," Eric says, moving into the kitchen. "I need a glass for Tim and Wendy. I could use a refill myself."
"How many glasses have you had?" Annie asks, sure he's already drank two.
"Not anymore than you've had, I'm sure," he says, pouring the wine. "Besides, it's a tough crowd out there."
"What do you mean?" Holly asks.
"Well, since you dropped the Tim bomb on the party, Michael has been downright mute, and, frankly, Tim doesn't seem like much of a conversationalist either. Though, to be fair, it probably hasn't helped that Michael has been glaring at him for the past five minutes."
"Oh, god," Holly says, "Should I go out there?"
"I wouldn't if I were you," Eric says.
"Good."
"And I've been stuck trying to talk to Wendy about my old jazz records."
"But Wendy doesn't know anything about jazz," Amy says.
"Right. See what I'm dealing with out there," he says. "How much longer before we eat, you think?"
"I don't know. Soon," Annie says. "When's Max going to be here?"
"Max?" Holly asks. "Max is coming."
"Who's Max?" Amy asks.
"Max is my brother."
"I didn't know you had a brother," Amy says.
"I haven't, really, for
the better part of a decade."
"When's he going to be here?" Annie asks, clearly trying to end any further inquiries about Max.
"Any second, I guess. I don't know," he says, and looks at his watch. "He's late already."
"Well, how much longer do you think we should give him?"
"A few more minutes."
"Okay, well, we're going to start taking stuff to the table," Annie says.
"Need any help?" Eric asks.
"No, we got this."
Eric grabs the three glasses of wine and leaves the kitchen.
"Max is coming, really?" Holly asks. "And you didn't tell me?"
"I didn't want to talk about it."
"What's the big deal?" Amy asks.
"Max and Annie went to high school together, and they used to be—"
"Holly. Don't. I don't want to talk about it."
"Fine, but I can't believe you were giving me a hard time about things being awkward with Michael when Max is going to be here. Talk about awkward."
"I know."
"And you haven't seen him at all since he's been back?"
"No, but… I thought I said I didn't want to talk about this."
"Fine, but—"
"Should I be worried about tonight?" Amy asks. "There seems to be a lot of sticky subtext at this dinner."
"But subtext is what makes a dinner party interesting," Holly says. "Just be happy you're not one of the players. You can just sit back and enjoy the show."
"There's not going to be any show," Annie says, trying to assure Amy. "Now, can you guys help me take this stuff out to the table?"
The car is running. Max is huddled inside, arms crossed over his body, trying to stay warm. The heater in his dad's car seems broken. He's had the blower on high the whole time, but the car barely seems any warmer than it was when he first got in at his parents’ house down the road. So, he's been sitting in the cold, staring up the hill at Eric and Annie's house for the better part of ten minutes.
He stares at their house, or what he can see of it from this distance, and thinks about how strange it is to think that they live there together. And the idea of seeing them together, facing them as a couple after all this time, is more daunting than it was when Eric first asked him to dinner. And he's no closer to