Five Parties With My Worst Enemy

by Sharpe, Elle

  After I had this thought, my first reaction was to pretend I had never had it. But as the days wore on I started feeling like it might be the only possible path forward.

  Finally one morning I closed my eyes, so I could no longer see the street corner which by then had grown very familiar to me. I was still aware of the people passing by just a few feet away, but at least they were covered up in blackness.

  That day I had my guitar with me, instead of a boombox, and no microphone. I felt better knowing my terrible-sounding voice wouldn’t be broadcast all over the street. I promised myself I would not stop or speak. I would get through the song from start to finish, no matter what happened.

  The song that popped into my head was “All I Want,” a Joni Mitchell classic that I hadn’t thought about in ages. And, let me tell you, I did not sing it well. My voice was really freaked out about those Joni Mitchell high notes. Instead of opening wider to let the difficult sounds come out my throat instinctively went in the opposite direction. It closed up, trying futilely to gain more control. As a result the air became constricted, and my voice came out shrill and squeaky.

  I dreaded opening my eyes to see people’s reactions. But in the end even my closed eyes didn’t protect me. I heard some snickering off to my left, and that told me everything I needed to know.

  In response my eyes opened automatically, and I confirmed what I had heard. The people nearby were wearing incredulous, half-amused half-horrified expressions.

  Yup. There it was. It had happened. I was terrible.

  But, that meant I had accomplished my goal. I had been terrible in public. And it appeared I was still alive.

  So I decided to try again.

  It went on like that for weeks. I sang terribly on the street to anyone who happened to walk by, slowly working through my body’s urges to tense up. It was almost like learning to sing again for the first time. My mouth and jaw would constantly try to snap into the wrong positions, and I would have to remind them over and over that they knew what to do. That the moves were still the same, whether or not people were watching.

  It took a long time for each small part of my body—my throat, my jaw, my cheeks, my belly—to believe that they could relax and be free, even with all those critical onlookers ready to pass judgement. But finally each body part believed me, at least seventy-five to eighty percent. And I didn’t sound horrifying anymore. I sounded seventy-five to eighty percent okay.

  I hoped that would be enough. For Jen’s sake as well as mine. She’d agreed to let me use her wedding as my performance testing ground.

  “Hey, it’s no sweat off my back if you sound like shit,” she had told me, reassuringly. “Everyone will be judging you, not me. I’ll just be standing there in my wedding dress, looking hot.”

  It was nice of her to be so nonchalant about her own wedding, but it didn’t exactly take the pressure off. If I screwed up and sounded like a screechy banshee, I would carry that embarrassing memory with me for all my days. Especially since I knew Ronan would be there, watching the whole thing.

  Ronan. Stupid, Ronan.

  I couldn’t let myself think about him. I knew that if I let a single thought about Ronan enter my brain, I’d be doomed. After all, he was the reason I was doing all of this, or a big part of the reason. I’d told him I couldn’t be with someone who was going to fix my life for me. So I needed to fix my own life, myself. And if I could just do that…

  Well, if I could do that, there wouldn’t be much reason for me not to at least try being with a certain person who I clearly couldn’t stop thinking about, even if it was only at the very back corner of my mind.

  Ronan

  By now I should have been used to the beautiful sound of Norah’s voice. But as I listened to her sing I was sure it would never stop surprising me. It didn’t make sense for a sound so rich and full of depth to come out of one puny human.

  The song she was singing—“At Last”—made perfect sense for a wedding. But the subtle note of triumph in her voice wasn’t lost on me. “At last” Norah was performing in front of people, without any games or gimmicks to fall back on. Somehow, since we’d last parted, she had conquered her stage fright.

  Her voice flowed freely out of her throat, and it was easy to believe that she meant the words she sang. That she felt comfortable and strong, after finally reaching something that she’d been longing for.

  I’d been so angry at her these last few months. So resentful of her. Hurt and confused by her, because she didn’t want me. But for those few minutes as she sang, I just felt proud of her.

  Jen and Chris stared into each other’s eyes as Norah’s voice swelled out around them. The dramatic song seemed to capture all of their heady emotions.

  When she finished, and the final notes echoed through the room, the guests burst into applause. No one had been expecting to be treated to a performance like that. And now they couldn’t be more excited to watch two people in love get married.

  Chris and Jen turned to the officiant, but never took their attention off of each other. Their eyes sparkled, and they smiled wide, like pleased little kids.

  I didn’t consider myself a sappy person, but looking at them did some funny things to my heart. And when I heard them choke up while speaking their vows to each other, I felt a small twinge of something else. Jealousy.

  My eyes landed on Norah, standing across from me. I saw her chew her lip, like she was holding back emotion. Her eyes flicked briefly to me, and I felt like we were sharing the same thought. We both looked away.

  Norah

  Ronan gave a great Best Man speech. It had all the classic elements: humor at Chris’s expense, many compliments about Jen, and some genuinely touching words about Ronan and Chris’s friendship.

  He told the story about how Jen and Chris met, a story I realized I hadn’t even known. I hadn’t been there the very first time they’d seen each other, but Ronan had been.

  Apparently Chris and Ronan had been hanging out together on campus, and Chris had spotted Jen from afar. And like the idiot-savant that he was, Chris had gotten a good feeling about Jen immediately. Right away he’d wanted to go up and talk to her, but he was nervous, so he’d asked Ronan to be his wingman.

  “But then,” Ronan said. “He changed his mind. He suddenly turned to me, and with total confidence, said, ‘Nah, bro. I’ve got this.’”

  I chuckled. It turned out Ronan could do a spot-on impression of Chris’s voice,

  “And he was right,” Ronan continued. “Ever since then I’ve watched Chris and Jen closely. Sometimes maybe too closely. Chris, you know, you’re like a little brother to me. I care about you, and I worry about you. And sometimes you deserve it, because you can act like a damned idiot.”

  The guests all laughed. I guess they knew Chris pretty well.

  “But when it comes to the most important things, you’ve always been smart. Probably smarter than me. You picked the person who was right for you, and you knew how to be a good partner to her. And whenever you didn’t quite know how, you learned. You’ve always been kind, and thoughtful, and warm, and that’s just the way you are with Jen.”

  I was surprised by the undercurrent of emotion in Ronan’s voice. And by the way he was talking about Chris. I’d known they were close friends, of course. But I hadn’t known that Ronan thought of Chris like a brother. Looking at Chris’s face, it seemed like he thought of Ronan in much the same way.

  “And that’s what makes you a great team. Both of you. You support each other. You elevate each others’ strengths. You cushion each other’s weaknesses with humor and compassion. And by doing that you somehow manage to turn those same weaknesses into strengths, too. So, yeah, you’ve got this.”

  He raised a glass of champagne. Chris raised a glass back at him.

  “To Jen and Chris!” Ronan said.

  We all echoed him, and we all drank from our single allotted glasses of champagne.

  “And, among all your other qualities, you guys al
so throw the best parties,” Ronan added with a wink. “So, let’s have at it.”

  I’d guessed that Jen and Chris would do something silly for their opening dance. But they defied expectations by performing a well-rehearsed waltz sort of thing. They only stumbled over a few of the moves, as far as my untrained eye could see. And they looked lovely.

  Of course, as soon as that was over the DJ followed up with “Pump up the Jam,” and the dance floor transformed into a more typical Jen-and-Chris style affair.

  I sipped slowly from my champagne glass, and allowed my head to turn, ever so slowly, in Ronan’s direction.

  He was sitting in the opposite corner of the big ballroom. He had a glass of champagne in his hand too, but he wasn’t drinking from it, just swirling the contents around. I noticed he was following Chris around with his eyes. And specifically he was following the champagne glass in Chris’s hand around. For all his supportive words, he hadn’t stopped worrying about Chris.

  And I couldn’t exactly say I blamed him. I’d worried too, when Jen first told me they’d be having alcohol. Even after she assured me each guest was only allowed one glass of champagne, I didn’t stop worrying completely. But...it seemed possible to have fun and enjoy the party, even if there was still a little bit of worry hanging around.

  That was why I’d decided to drink myself. I’d felt like it would be fun to let myself get swept up by the party atmosphere a bit. Fun, and a little risky too, what with Ronan so close by. More fun because it was a little risky, maybe.

  I was slightly buzzed, pleased with myself for my singing earlier, and full of roiling nerves as I looked over at the handsome contours of Ronan’s face. I realized I was in the mood to dance. And, naturally, he was the only one I wanted to dance with.

  I began to walk over to his side of the room. He saw me coming when I was halfway over to him, and hurried to stand up. At first I thought he was going to move away, but instead he walked towards me with fast strides, like he was trying to beat me to some predetermined meeting spot.

  When we finally stood in front of each other we had a long moment of awkward silence. And then we each looked away and groaned, feeling ridiculous.

  “So,” I said, fishing for something sharp to say to recover from that silliness, “Have you been pining away for me these last few months?”

  “Yes,” Ronan said, simply. He met my eyes and didn’t look away.

  “Oh.”

  I felt my fingers going twitchy. My chest too. And my head felt light. But maybe that was the champagne.

  “So what have you been up to, all this time?” he asked me. “Clearly there have been some developments, in all these months since we last spoke.”

  “Well, I’ve been...studying, sort of. Social media stuff. I asked Allison for her help, since she knows everything there is to know. She’s working on helping me make my online income stream more reliable, in ways that don’t feel super fake and make me want to vomit. ‘Sustainability without sacrificing brand authenticity,’ she calls it.”

  I paused, hoping for a snicker. But all I got was a tight smile.

  “And I put myself through a sort of a stage fright exposure therapy program of my own devising. Which worked out pretty well, in the end. Singing in the ceremony was sort of the big test. So now I should be able to do regular gigs and stuff, and earn money that way. And being able to choose my own songs for a change will be nice, too.”

  I felt like I was rambling. And the whole time I spoke I could barely meet Ronan’s eyes. He was looking at me like I was very far away from him.

  “I really am sorry,” I went on. I felt like the words were coming out of my mouth a second before I thought them. “I wanted to talk to you before now. I wanted to call you, too. I’ve wanted to for months. And I didn’t want to leave you the way that I did. And...I didn’t want to say no. To you. To being with you. I just...I had to.”

  “I guess you did. Looks like without me you got everything figured out. Congratulations, by the way. You sounded beautiful.”

  “Thanks,” I bit my lip. “Do you understand, though? Why I had to do it without you? Without your help?”

  “Yes,” he said. And then, “No. Except that I must have been holding you back, somehow.”

  I could see signs of hurt on his face now, that I never would have noticed before. Some of that sternness that I’d always found so intimidating wasn’t actually caused by him judging other people. Some of it was caused by him judging himself.

  I shook my head at him.

  “I was holding myself back,” I told him. “And if I’d accepted help from you I would have been holding myself back even more. I would have been relying on you too much. And that wouldn’t have been fair to either of us. I don’t want to have to be with you, because I feel like I’d be lost at sea without you. I want to be with you because I want to.”

  I saw his lip twitch, ever so slightly.

  “And do you?”

  He spoke softly, almost like he was afraid to ask it. The hopeful strain at the edge of his voice sent a shiver through my chest.

  “I...might,” I said, hedging.

  He raised his eyebrow at me. God damn. I could never resist the eyebrows.

  “Might?” he asked, incredulously.

  Surely I wasn’t fooling him. It had to be obvious. I wanted him. I wanted those eyebrows. And the piercing, questioning eyes underneath them. And the frowning, slightly petulant mouth. I wanted to keep making him frown like that, and then work the frown off of his mouth with kisses.

  Just thinking about it made me feel ten times drunker. It made my stomach flip over again and again, like a revving engine. And I wanted that feeling too.

  I crossed my arms, playing it cool.

  “It would help if you weren’t so damn rich,” I told him. “You know, it’s just really obnoxious.”

  “I’ll give away my fortune,” he said. “I’ll donate it all to charity tomorrow.”

  “Really?” I asked.

  “No. I’m not going to do that.”

  I let out a small laugh. His mouth quirked in triumph. He’d won the game of, “Make the other person laugh first.” I didn’t mind, though. I had a feeling that I would have time enough to get my revenge.

  “Here’s what I can do though,” he continued, stepping closer to me, “I can let you keep doing your thing, figuring your own life out, just like you’re doing now. I won’t make you any more stupid offers. I won’t try to fix you, or control you. I didn’t even realize I was doing it, but you were right. I was. I don’t want you to feel any sort of obligation towards me. I like what you said just now. About wanting me. Wanting to want me.”

  My heart was racing. Ronan looked down at my nervously-twitching hands, considering. Then he made his move. He gently reached out and took one of my hands in his. He stroked my skin like it was a prized possession, but he didn’t hold on too tight.

  “I know you’re used to feeling responsible for things, and for people,” I told him. “And to being in charge of them, which I guess is the flip side of that. I don’t want you to be in charge of me. But I also don’t want you to be responsible for me, even in a helpful way. That’s not fair to you, either. You don’t have to be so in control with me like that.”

  Despite the nervous pounding in my chest, I took his hand more firmly in my own.

  “I just want you to be yourself. Not the famous version, or the rich version, or the CEO version. Just you. The human version. That’s the person I want to be with. And I do. I do want to.”

  I pressed his hand harder, so he’d feel that it was true. I felt his grip relax into mine.

  “If you’ll still have me, that is?” I asked.

  I felt like it was quite possible he would say no. I’d rejected him before, after all. I might have missed my chance.

  Ronan looked down on me, and his mouth spread into a sly smile.

  “If I asked you to dance again I assume you’d say yes this time?”

  “When did y
ou ask me to dance before?” I asked.

  “At that first party. The graduation party. Naturally you thought I was trying to insult you.”

  He grinned at me. I grinned back.

  “Is the Ronan Baylor going to dance with me to ‘Pump up the Jam?’”

  “Well, the rich, famous, CEO version wouldn’t be caught dead. But this new version—the human version, as you call it?—yeah, he might give it a try.”

  “Okay then. Yes. I will agree to your proposal of dancing,” I told him. “But, I have some conditions.”

  “Oh?”

  “Yeah. I’m thinking one kiss per song. Maybe two.”

  “You drive a hard bargain, Green.”

  “I believe the first time you asked me to dance you told me that you liked my moves. Well, those moves don’t come cheap, my friend.”

  “Well, well. Who’s got a big ego now?”

  “Hey, if you’d rather pass-”

  Ronan pulled me forward by my hand and closed his lips down over mine. I draped my arms around his neck and let the delicious feeling of the kiss overtake me. Our lips lingered close together for a long time, even after the kiss had ended.

  “Okay, Green,” Ronan told me. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

  If you want to spend a little more time with Norah and Ronan click here for a free bonus scene (you’ll also be signed up for my mailing list). Much love, Elle