by Kelly, Hazel
It was kind of freaking me out, to be honest. I mean, I had this smart, driven boyfriend who was always dressed impeccably (which I loved), and I’d recently earned the promotion I’d been working towards for two years. I had a nice place and good savings. I should’ve felt like my life was coming together. Like all my ducks were in a row.
Instead, I felt unsettled and anxious, and anxiety was something I always thought plagued other people. So I refused to admit that’s what it was, despite the dark shadow it was casting around the edge of my thoughts.
Anyway, I could see why Alicia’s parties were legendary. The woman clearly spared no expense when it came to decorating. If James hadn’t told me otherwise, I would’ve assumed she was in the events management business. Even the tiered cupcake tower she ordered for the occasion was nicer than most wedding cakes I’d seen, and I couldn’t help but be mesmerized by the way the edible gold glitter clung to the chocolate icing.
“When’s the Dockers model due to arrive?” Quinn joked, topping up my white wine.
I glowered at him, but part of me was pleased my sister’s boyfriend liked Kurt enough to give him a pet name. “He should be here soon.”
Maddy waltzed into the room in a short dress that shone like a disco ball. “Hey, guys.” She set her drink on the butcher block and joined me in admiring the cake. “It’s almost too pretty to eat.”
I nodded. “I can see why you guys never miss her parties.”
“Have James and Brie arrived yet?” she asked. “I thought they’d be here by now.”
“Traffic,” Quinn said, smiling into his glass.
Maddy elbowed him.
“You guys making any resolutions?” I asked.
“Yeah,” she said. “To spend more time with you and Kurt.”
I looked at her gratefully, but the mention of his name only tightened the nerves in my chest. “What about you?” I asked, turning to Quinn.
“That’s something you do when you want to change something about yourself, right?” he asked, pretending he was unfamiliar with the concept.
Maddy rolled her eyes.
“I’ve heard of people doing that.” Quinn slipped his hand across my sister’s lower back and pulled her a bit closer. “Never saw much point in doing it myself, though.”
I laughed.
“What about you?” Maddy asked, her brows lifting.
“I want to be more like Quinn,” I said, disappointed it didn’t sound funnier out loud. My small purse started vibrating against my thigh then, and hope flooded my chest. “Excuse me,” I said, pulling my phone out to confirm it was Kurt. “I’ll be right back.”
I left the kitchen and turned down the hall, heading towards the quieter side of the condo as I answered. “Hi,” I said, trying not to sound impatient. “Where are you?”
“I’m not going to come.”
His words were like a sucker punch, and I stole away behind the next door I came to, which ended up being Alicia’s en suite. It smelled like roses, and pink and blue pebbles bordered a path of round tiles trailing across the floor. “What do you mean? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine,” he said. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“We don’t have to stay long,” I said. “Just come make an appearance. Everyone’s excited to see you.” I didn’t really know if that was true, but it seemed like the thing to say. It was what people always told me when I didn’t feel like showing, anyway.
“This isn’t working out, Maeve.”
I closed the door to the hall, turned my back on the mirror, and leaned against the sink top.
“You there?”
“Yeah.”
“Things haven’t been right with us for a while, and… God, I hate to do this over the phone.”
“So don’t.”
Silence.
Every part of me stiffened like a startled skunk.
“I think it’s the perfect time for a clean break, a fresh start, a—”
“Buttload of clichés?” I interrupted.
“Come on, Maeve. You know things have been off.”
Yeah, since I got promoted and you didn’t. “Look, I know the holidays are a stressful time.”
“That’s not it,” he said.
“So what’s the problem?”
“You’re a stressful time.”
My jaw hinged forward. “What?”
“This isn’t going to work out.”
“Why not?”
“Because I can’t handle you.”
“I don’t need you to handle me,” I said. “I can handle myself.”
“Yeah,” he said. “You’ve made that quite clear. And as romantic as that is, it’s not enough for me.”
My forehead furrowed. “Are you saying I’m not needy enough?”
“I’m saying your standards are ridiculous, and you don’t know how to be in a relationship.”
“So teach me! I’m not incapable of learning.”
“No,” he said. “You’re very capable. Maybe too capable.”
Too capable? What the fuck?! “I don’t know what that means.”
“It means I don’t love you, and I want to go back to being friends.”
“We were never friends.”
“Whatever we were, I want to go back to that.”
My heart grew heavy from the weight of his rejection.
“Okay?”
“I don’t love you either,” I blurted. It wasn’t the right response, but it felt important that I say it.
He was quiet for a moment before speaking again. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you in person. Things have just been really hectic the last few days.”
“Don’t worry about it,” I said, realizing he was doing me a favor. “It’s easier this way.”
“Thanks for—”
I hung up and turned around, taking deep breaths as I braced myself against the bathroom counter. Who does that? Who fucking does that? I lifted my face and looked in the mirror, saddened by how pretty I looked with my full makeup in my new party dress. He didn’t deserve me. The kind of guy that could do what he just did could never deserve me.
So why did I feel like shit?
If ever there were a time I wanted to feel too capable, it was now. If ever there were a time I wanted to feel like I could handle myself, it was now.
But I didn’t feel capable at all. I felt like stuffing my purse with cupcakes and going home to scour the internet for cats that needed adopting while I burned picture after picture of the golf courses I didn’t want to see before I died. Asshole. I couldn’t even return those chess lessons.
I straightened up and breathed for God knows how long, my focus on the red “O” of my lips as I tried to avoid having a panic attack. But it wasn’t long before I realized I couldn’t stay. I didn’t want to spoil my younger siblings’ evening by playing the part of the sad, dumped older sister who was too capable to be loveable. Whatever the hell that meant.
I rolled my shoulders back and strode down the hallway, finding Quinn and Maddy in the kitchen where I’d left them. “Bad news,” I said. “I have to go.”
“What?” Maddy asked, her surprise knocking her back. “But you just got here.”
I glanced at Quinn but avoided meeting his gaze, too worried he’d see through the lie I was about to tell. “It seems Trivial Pursuit’s gotten out of hand, and Kurt needs backup to save face.”
“Will you guys come back after?” Maddy asked.
Did she really believe that fib? Not even a follow-up question? Was I that convincing of an actress or was it actually plausible that I would ring in the new year competing for plastic cheese wedges? Christ. Maybe I did need to get out more.
“The night’s still young,” she added hopefully, glancing at the clock over the kitchen doorway.
“Trivial Pursuit can’t be hurried,” Quinn said, like he knew I was full of shit. “Take a cupcake in case you don’t make it bac
k.”
I don’t know how he knew I was lying, but every cell of my being knew I’d only fooled Maddy.
“Take two,” my sister added. “I bet Kurt takes one bite of that thing and insists you return immediately.”
“Two it is,” I said, sliding two cupcakes from the bottom tier before spacing the rest out so no one would notice they’d gone missing.
“I’ll come downstairs and help you get a cab,” Quinn said.
“No need,” I lied. “Already called an Uber.”
“James is going to be pissed,” Maddy said, hugging me carefully so as not to crush my cupcakes.
“Thank Alicia for me?” I asked, my eyes bouncing between them.
Quinn nodded. “Of course.”
I left in a hurry then, making my way out to the frost-covered sidewalk and turning towards the lake. It would’ve been easier to call a ride from Alicia’s building, but I was reticent to linger outside when James and Brie could arrive any minute. Plus, I had two enormous cupcakes I had to eat before I could do anything else.
Okay, so I didn’t have to eat both. I only needed to free one hand to get to my phone. But I was hungry, and I’d shown regrettable restraint around Alicia’s inspired charcuterie boards. So I finished them quickly and put my gloves on to fortify myself against the biting winter air. And even though I knew I should go home because I felt fragile and lonely and lost, it seemed a sadder prospect than staying out.
So I went in the first bar I came to, relieved when I felt the stifling heat of too many bodies and heard the sound of live music filling the air. And without overthinking it, I shoved my way to the short end of the long bar, hoisted myself onto a barstool, and ordered a Scotch.
Not because I particularly liked Scotch, but because I knew it would burn going down, and I was desperate to feel something besides the unbearable weight of rejection.
S I X
- Finn -
We finished our set at eleven because I wasn’t Bruce Springsteen, and no one had paid two hundred bucks to see me sweat through my shirt. Our grand finale was well received, though. Nothing like a few Strokes songs to get the crowd hopping.
I handed my nameless guitar to Jimmy when we finished and nodded for him to pack up. I used to name my guitars, but I no longer concerned myself with such frivolity. Besides, a guitar will never break your heart like things with names will.
I made my way to the short end of the long bar, surprised to find a woman in my usual seat. Even more surprising, when I occupied the stool next to her, she didn’t turn to tell me it was taken. In fact, she didn’t turn to look at me at all, which felt strange. I was used to women eyeing me, thinking I looked familiar, and then talking themselves out of it.
Brian set an open bottle of IPA in front of me while he listened to an order shouted from down the bar. I lifted it to my lips, savoring the first sip, which was always the best. Especially after a good set.
The woman beside me was drinking Scotch. Neat. Her feminine hands draped loosely around the glass like it was a toddler that might stumble away any minute if she didn’t keep an eye on it.
“Scotch drinker, huh?”
Her eyes only strayed as far as my drink, and she took her time answering. “Only on special occasions.”
Whatever the special occasion was, it didn’t seem to be a happy one. “So where’s the poor sap now?”
She turned her face all the way towards me this time. “Excuse me?”
Her beauty startled me when I saw her head on. Her shiny hair was pulled back a little too tight, but it was a rich shade of brown that matched her dark eyes, and her perfectly curved lips looked like they weren’t just for decoration. I hadn’t meant any offense, but there was a sharpness in her eyes that looked forced, as if her outward irritation was masking more delicate feelings. “I just meant I’m surprised to see you on your own.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re stunning.”
She stared into my blue eyes for a second before looking away again.
“You’re supposed to say thank you when someone gives you a compliment.”
“Gee, thanks,” she said. “I’ll try and remember that for the future.”
Damn, kitty’s got nails. What a relief. Feisty was good. Feisty was interesting. Feisty was knocking back her Scotch and standing off her stool.
“Stay,” I said, thinking I’d never bombed so fast. “Have a drink with me.”
Her eyes met mine. “I’m sure you can find someone else to entertain you.”
“I’m not asking you to entertain me,” I said. “I’m asking you to have a drink with me.”
She swallowed. “It’s not a good time.”
“I didn’t think so either until I sat down next to you.”
She considered my unshaven face, her eyes shamelessly studying my wavy hair before sweeping along my jawline to meet my gaze again. “One drink.” She sat back on her stool, as if she was somewhat wary of my intentions.
I raised a hand at Brian and pointed to her empty glass. “So,” I said, folding my arms on the bar. “I’d say come here often, but I already know you don’t.”
“You play here a lot then?”
“You were listening?”
She shrugged. “Preferred it to the thoughts I was having.”
Brian set a drink down in front of her, and I lifted a hand before she reached for her purse.
“Is this man bothering you?” he asked her, not doing me any favors.
She glanced between us and the first hint of a smile teased her lips. “Not yet.”
I glared at him, and he smirked at me before turning his back.
“Friend of yours?” she asked after he resumed tending the crowded bar.
“You could say that.”
She lifted her brows.
“Since I was six,” I said, sliding my coaster a bit closer. “That’s what he’d tell you, anyway.”
“And what would you tell me?”
Her features were softening. Except for her cheekbones, which were so flawless I wished I had my sketchbook. Not that I’d really start sketching her out of nowhere like that. I’d learned the hard way that women didn’t find that romantic unless you were Leonardo DiCaprio, which I wasn’t. Though maybe he’d look like me if he got a light spray tan and a few more wrinkles around the eyes, which was bullshit because dude was at least five years older than me. “I’d say we didn’t hit it off till we were eight.”
She smiled, and the way her long lashes batted made my pulse skip unexpectedly.
I lifted my drink. “I’d like to propose a toast.”
Skepticism shrouded her gaze as she raised her short tumbler.
“To the poor schmuck that made the mistake of his life tonight.” I clinked the base of my bottle against her glass. “May he make better decisions in the new year.”
“What makes you think I’m the one who got dumped?”
I dropped my eyes to her Scotch.
“Oh, right. Good guess.”
“You should try it with Coke,” I said as she took a sip. “Really brings out that paint thinner taste.”
Her eyes scowled, but there was a playful sparkle in them that told me she got the joke. “Thanks for the tip.”
“So what’s wrong with you?” I asked casually, so she’d know I wasn’t being accusatory.
“Apparently, I’m too capable.”
I laughed out loud, my face stretching to accommodate the biggest smile I’d spilled all day.
“I’m glad my plight amuses you.”
“How is that a defect?”
“Beats me.”
Too capable? What a fucking loser. Maybe I was biased, but needy girls were a pain in the ass. Most of the women I’d had the pleasure of dumping waffled between treating me like an emotional punching bag and treating me like an ATM. I didn’t even date anymore because I’d gone out with so many spoiled princesses who thought love meant never
having to lift a finger. Too capable? I couldn’t imagine! “If you don’t mind my saying, guy sounds like a tool.”
"He certainly wouldn’t know how to use one.”
I arched an eyebrow.
So,” she asked, swirling the golden liquid in her glass. “What’s wrong with you?”
“Good question,” I said, pondering it. “Not sure I’m the best person to ask.”
“Oh, come on. You seem more self-aware than that.”
“I suppose my problem is that I hate everyone.”
She laughed. “No, you don’t.”
I leaned back. “How would you know?”
“You don’t hate Brian,” she said, nodding across the room to where he was shoveling ice into a martini shaker.
“Eh.”
“Or me.” Her thin brows drifted up her face.
“That’s only because I don’t know you better,” I said. “Once I realize how capable you are, I’m sure I’ll detest you.”
She bit the inside of her cheek to suppress a smile.
“But you’re right. ‘Everyone’ is a strong word. I’m quite fond of my dog. And most kids are alright.”
“Most?”
“And I definitely don’t hate the tool who drove you to drink here tonight.” I lifted my beer. “Might even add him to my Christmas card list.”
S E V E N
- Maeve -
“You don’t strike me as the kind of guy who sends Christmas cards.”
“No?” he asked, feigning surprise.
“It’s not the kind of thing people who hate people usually do.”
His brow furrowed. “How many people haters do you know?”
My pursed lips pulled to one side. “Hard to say. I suspect most of them don’t advertise the fact.”
He tilted his beer to his lips, and I swallowed as he drank, wondering what it was about him that piqued my curiosity so much. Perhaps it was how different he was from the men I knew professionally. From his V-neck T-shirt to his strong, musician’s forearms, he was practically another species. And there was something about the double wave in his thick hair, how soft it looked compared to his scratchy stubble. There was no way I knew him, yet there was something familiar about him I couldn’t put my finger on.