by S E Anderson
I’d believe her.
Marcy grew up with an overflow of love, and it’s still spilling out of her. She glowed with it. Anyone coming to the party tonight, not already knowing her, would leave with her name forever engraved in their memory.
“Sally!” Marcy gushed, rushing over to give me a huge squeeze.
“Happy birthday, Marce!” I hugged her tight enough to break a rib.
“You have got to taste my burgers,” Marcy said, handing me a plate with a blue bun on it. “I spent the afternoon baking.”
“Blue burgers?”
“I'm a sucker for alliteration,” she snickered. “Oh, Sal, this is the Mike I’ve been talking about. Mike, Sally. Sally's from Bridgeton, like me.”
“Pleasure,” I said, shaking his hand. Mike nodded, repeating the sentiment. He was a tall, thin man with a smile wider than the width of his shoulders.
“Mike brought the grill. He single-handedly saved this party.”
“Nice to meet you,” he said, not letting go of my hand. I pulled away. My palm was clammy now. Gross.
“You should talk to Jenn about her grill, though,” Marcy said. “Turns out she had a dream before it went missing. Something about you needing it to fly away in a hot-air balloon. It's pretty trippy.”
“A balloon?” I stammered, the coincidence too striking to not bring it up. “You know, just this morning I—”
There was a noise behind me, a scrambling of feet as flocks of people stepped aside to let someone through. I turned and practically jumped out of my skin.
“Who is the host of this event?” The woman’s deep voice rose above the crowd. People parted awkwardly before returning to their conversations. “It is essential that I know. It is of the utmost importance.” She looked around at our shocked faces. “Well? Speak up. Is Harris here?”
“Jenn’s the host,” Marcy said, scanning the woman from head to toe and returning a dazzling smile. “But we don't know any Harris. We can spread the word, though. Are … are you all right?”
The stranger leaned forward, trying to hide the fact that she was out of breath. Marcy threw out a hand to support her, and the woman smiled, clutching her chest as she slowly regained control.
She was tall, and I mean incredibly tall. For a second, I thought she might have been an Amazon warrior. She would fit right in with them; her muscular figure showed through her soft silk blouse and tight black pants. Her hair was long and dusty blonde, pulled back into a tight ponytail to reveal ears with at least five piercings in each. Golden coins and geometric shapes jingled whenever she turned her head, making me think of a pirate queen. She scanned each of us with her piercing gray eyes, casually raising a hand to pluck a leaf from behind one of her gilded ears.
“Any of you know who I am?” she growled, showing her teeth. Marcy stood her ground, glancing at Mike and then at the stranger, worry tracing her face before she hid it behind a smile.
“Never saw you before,” Mike said sternly. “Who the heck are you?”
“Sorry, sorry.” The stranger’s snarl melted into a grin. It was like a light bulb going off in her head, and she relaxed enough to let her shoulders slump. “I'm trying to lay low, if you know what I mean.”
“Boyfriend?” Mike urged.
“Nope.”
“Girlfriend?” Marcy interjected.
The stranger shook her head.
“Cops?”
“I hope not.” She laughed heartily. “Nothing like that. Bodyguards, you know?”
“Um, no.” Marcy lifted an eyebrow. “Bodyguards?”
“No bodyguards?”
“Um, no?”
“Cool, cool.” She nodded slowly, wrapping her mouth around the vernacular as if trying to force an American accent. The switch in tone was both sudden and unsettling. “Okay, so, like, my father's rich. He’s got me tailed everywhere, like, to make sure I don't get into what he supposes is trouble. I've got to make sure the coast is clear, like, before I can even begin to think about enjoying myself. So, um, where am I exactly?”
“Marcy's birthday party,” Marcy said, extending a hand. “And I'm Marcy.”
“Danir—Dany,” Her grin widened. “Sorry to, ahem, crash the party. Harris brought me along, but knowing my dad, like, he could have been bribed to report my every move. Doesn't look like he has, though.”
“You could always hang out around the grill,” Marcy offered. “No trouble to get into over here. Unless trouble is what you want.”
The entire situation was incredibly weird. I had a feeling there was more going on than Dany was saying, but that was probably just me being paranoid, per usual, when people started hanging around Marcy. I’m a little protective of my girl.
Dany removed more leaves from her shirt and hair. She looked as if she had run through a forest to get here. One thing was obvious, though: she had certainly been captivated by Marcy's glow.
The woman laughed again, and all I could think about was how much she looked like she should be out on the high seas, but with Wonder Woman by her side. I dropped my gaze to my plate, trying not to stare. Not that I would have said anything, but the burger was charred black; no amount of blue bun could hide that.
“Well, happy birthday, Marcy,” Dany said. “Sorry, I don't have a gift on me. Harris was really vague about what was actually happening tonight.”
“Saving the food will be gift enough,” she said, gesturing to the grill. “Show me how you do this …”
“Me?” The woman laughed again, “I've never seen this contraption before in my life.”
“What, a grill?”
I watched the two of them slip into each other's orbit, realizing quite suddenly that I didn’t know anyone else, except maybe Jenn and Mike, the former being somewhere in the hubbub and the latter disappearing into the house.
I grabbed a beer from the ice bucket and scanned the crowd, clutching the bottle to my chest. At what point had I lost track of Marcy's other friends? Close as we were, I always felt awkward at Marcy's parties, knowing fewer people every time. Maybe it was enough to have shown my face—binging science fiction on Netflix under a heap of blankets awaited me back home.
Watching a good sci-fi filled me with an odd sense of astrolust. I loved it, but when the show was exceptionally good, it left me feeling empty inside, like there was a little hole that needed to be filled with adventure, spaceships, exploration, and the unknown. But I wasn't very good at science, never kept up in math, and although I loved school, I was awful at it. Sadly, I was born too early for space travel to be an everyday thing. Thankfully, Netflix existed to fill all the gaps.
I wanted to go home and fill my head with images of an invented universe. But no—no—I was here for Marcy. So long as she wanted me here, I'd stay.
Jenn emerged from the house, shouting something about having some music outside. She placed a speaker on the porch, hooked up her iPod, and blasted some Lady Gaga. Just like that, people started dancing, somehow balancing blue burgers and dance moves.
I stood by myself, swaying from side to side, trying to eat my burger so Marcy wouldn't feel bad. She lounged by the grill with a large spatula in her hand, laughing, as Dany stood frozen, staring wide-eyed at the speakers by the door. There was something off about that woman. Not a dangerous off, but definitely strange.
“If I had a nickel for every time I saw a girl as beautiful as you, I'd have exactly five cents,” someone said, moving into my field of vision. He looked as awkward as I felt. His cheeks were red and his smile feeble.
Holy crap—it was Matt.
I had first met him in a creative writing course in college, one of those electives I didn't think I'd enjoy. The course had been great and the company even more so. Embarrassingly enough, I had developed a small crush on the guy who always took the front row and who was always excited to share his progress. How he was at Marcy’s party, I did not know, but this wasn’t a dream; it was real.
Ok, Sally, keep your cool. He approached you, not the oth
er way around. Just say something good.
“Sorry,” I replied sheepishly, waving my blue burger in the air. “That was cute, but I'm not interested.”
Crap, no! Don't say that! You like this guy!
But, then again … he did use a pickup line. And not a very good one, either.
“Ugh.” Matt sighed, and glared at Mike who stood a short distance away, proudly holding up two thumbs. “I'm sorry. I was told it was a good conversation starter—looks like I was sorely misinformed!”
He shouted the last part in Mike’s direction, though he was nowhere to be found. Matt looked at me again, smiling as much as he could. It was probably too much. “It sounded cool when Mike said it.” He shook his head. “Look, can we try again? Forget I said that last bit?”
“Sure.”
Matt walked away, and, for a minute, I thought he wasn’t coming back. I groaned internally. I really sucked at this.
“What about this weather we're having?” he said, striding casually back to my side, as if he hadn’t been standing there.
“You want to talk about the weather?” I scoffed, feeling my eyebrows drift up my face. “Come on, you can think of something more interesting than that.”
“Do you believe in life after death?”
“Religion?”
“I still have trouble believing it’s been over ten years since Firefly's been off the air.”
“And science fiction.” I grinned. “All fantastic topics of discussion.”
“Matthew Daniels,” he said, extending his hand, “but most people call me Matt.”
I held back the urge to tell him I knew who he was, and shook his hand as if it was my first time meeting him. Which, I guess, it was. We never actually spoke during the course.
Yeah, crushes are weird. Right?
“Sally Webber, pleasure,” I replied.
He was a bold-looking man, his dark brown hair shaggy around his temples, framing a soft baby face and the most piercing blue eyes I had ever seen. He was dressed in comfortable jeans and a t-shirt that looked like it had been worn since the birth of time. The image on the front was of a white triangle with a circled X, an old math joke that never really got old, even if the picture had faded with time.
“I’m not sure if you remember,” he said, “but we had a class together. Creative writing, I think?”
Holy shit. Was I blushing? I hoped not.
“Oh, yeah,” I said, all casual-like. “You wrote that sci-fi piece about the white hole.”
“I can't believe you remember that. So?”
“So, what?”
“Well, I recall asking you a few questions.”
“The weather is fabulous for this time of year; yes; and no, definitely not. Why are you opening that old wound again?”
At that moment, the lights dimmed and the music faded. Jenn brought out the cake, her voice carrying over the crowd, hushing us all before we realized we were supposed to join in. She carried it to the grill as people flocked around her, singing Happy Birthday at the top of their voices, painfully out of tune. The sparklers cut a sharp contrast to the darkness, jumping into the air and shining on Marcy's beaming face. The world cheered as she blew out the candles.
Someone brought plates over, and Jenn placed the cake on a nearby table so she could cut it. I stuffed the rest of the burger in my mouth just before the cake reached me.
“So how do you know Marcy?” Matt asked, using his plastic fork to slice off a bite of dessert.
“We grew up together,” I explained, adoring the taste of chocolate sponge on my tongue. It had always been my favorite. “We're from Bridgeton, Virginia?”
“Oh, cool,” Matt said. “Both of you go to U-Frank?”
“Yeah.”
“What's your major?”
“Undeclared,” I said, lowering my voice, “but I dropped out.”
“What? Why?”
I shrugged. “It wasn't for me. I was going through a lot, and it wasn't where I wanted to be. And why am I even telling you this?”
Why was I telling him? I didn't tell strangers anything, and here I was babbling away. He didn't seem to mind, though. I guess I liked that, and it explained why I couldn't really stop.
“Maybe it’s my irresistible charm?” He grinned, completely awkward, and for some reason it made me laugh. I blamed that on the beer.
“Yeah, maybe, and you?”
“Communications major. Currently interning at Grisham Corp.”
“The new power plant?”
“One of the fortunate few.” He laughed. “I'm going to need all the help I can get to pay off those darn student loans.”
We took a break from the conversation to scarf down more cake. The chocolate was perfect, fluffy, and moist; the icing sweet but not too sugary; and I found myself wondering if I could take some home. It was amazing, the perfect cake, and certainly my favorite—
And then it hit me.
I sputtered, tossing my fork like it was a poisonous viper, and glanced around. The music. The blue burgers. The cake.
Shit, shit, shit.
A look of worry crossed Matt’s face. “Is something wrong?”
“I have something I need to do.” I spun on my heels and marched to Jenn, who was cutting and handing out slices from a second cake, pressed my knuckles on the table, and leaned forward. “Why chocolate?”
Jenn shrugged. “Last minute change. Marcy said she wanted it that way.”
“But Marcy's favorite is Angel food,” I pointed out, my voice going high-pitched.
“Guess she changed her mind?”
“Chocolate is my favorite.”
“Oh,” Jenn said, as though she could not care any less.
I, however, was freaking out.
“Marce,” I snapped, storming toward the grill. My friend was sitting on an empty table with Dany at her side. They were laughing, cake untouched, barely able to hold their paper plates straight.
“Marcy!”
“Heya, Sal.” Marcy smiled. “Have you met Dany?”
“Yes,” I said, my voice icier than I would have liked. “I have.”
“Is everything all right?” Her smile faded into worry, and she slid off the table, putting her hand on my shoulder. Dany looked in the opposite direction, holding the spatula up to her face as if to examine it.
“No, not really. You do realize this is your birthday party, right?”
“Um, yeah?”
“So, why are you pandering to me?” My heart raced. I felt mad, a blob of lava boiling in my gut. “No, don't give me those eyes. Coloring the food? Chocolate cake? Since when have you liked chocolate cake?”
“Who doesn't?” Marcy nudged Dany. “Chocolate cake?”
“A rare delicacy,” Dany said quietly.
“But over angel food?” I urged. Marcy's gaze fell, and I knew I was right: Marcy was a poor liar. “I don't need a pity party.”
“It's not a pity party—”
“So why does your music mix sound like you stole my iPod?”
“You have good taste.”
“You hate pop,” I snapped. “Marce, don't worry about me, seriously. I got fired, that’s all. I’ll be okay.”
Marcy glared at me. She put her hands on her hips and dared me with her eyes. I couldn't help it—I laughed—and so did she.
“You're right,” I said. “It sucks.”
“This really isn't about you getting fired.” Marcy smiled, but it was cold and fading fast. “I … I'm worried about you, Sal.”
“About what?”
“About you.” She clasped my shoulders. “You're wavering. Flickering out. I've been watching for a long time, Sally, and since John—”
“Don't you dare bring him up!”
“Since John, you've been falling apart. First, you stopped eating, but I guess that was a normal reaction. Then the dropout, followed by job after dead-end job. It's been years now, Sally—two freaking years! When’s the last time you saw your therapist?”
&nb
sp; I ripped my arms from hers and backed away. “I … I have to go.”
“Sally, please.” Marcy grabbed my arm. “I wasn't saying that to make you angry, I just … I want you to know—”
“What?”
Marcy let out a heavy sigh. “Look around you, Sally. How many people do you know here? Have you made any friends? Anyone at all since we moved here?”
“Arthur.”
“He's your mailman. He doesn’t count.”
I couldn't look at her anymore. I jerked my arm free and stormed away, doing a much better job of it than I had at work that morning. Marcy and Dany followed me, though why Dany thought she had anything to do with this, I didn’t know.
I made a beeline toward the exit, only to have another obstacle thrown in my way. An annoyingly handsome one.
Matt sprung up, interposing himself between the doorway and me. “Hey, Sally, are you okay?”
I tried to smile, but it never reached my eyes. “You're my friend, right, Matt?”
“Um … yeah?” He looked frightened. “I hope so.”
I snatched the phone from his hands, added myself as a contact. I turned the phone around and held it out to take a selfie. I held up the phone, showing Marcy before handing it back to Matt. “Now we're friends. Feel free to call or text or do whatever it is friends do.” I spun around. “See, Marcy? I can make friends.”
“Sally, I …”
I still could not believe she would turn her own party into an intervention for me. It was a low blow. An awful tool to play, made worse by her trying to drag John into it.
My face was hot and sweating like I was running a fever. My skin prickled, the hair standing at attention all the way up my neck and down my arms. I would not have been surprised to see steam spouting from my ears: I needed to get out of here—fast.
“Yo, you good?” someone asked, sticking their head out of the kitchen at the sound of the slamming door.
“Just smashing,” I replied.
I shoved through the revelers in the hallway, slammed the front door behind me, and climbed in my car. Soon, I was speeding down the roads leading to home, trying to put as much distance as I could between me and that dreadful party. I was still fuming from the bitter memory of Marcy when I rammed a man with my car.