Page 53 of The False Flat

I tried to concentrate on what this athletic blonde woman was saying, but my eyes kept wandering to Grant and the woman who wasn’t leaving his side. And how she kept finding excuses to touch him. A charming laugh with a sweep down his forearm. An absentminded caress on his back as the group batted around conversation.

It didn’t bother me. Of course it didn’t. And it didn’t bother me that she continued to cling to Grant’s arm like a fungus. A gorgeous, intelligent little fungus.

I looked away. Wasn’t that what a happy couple should look like? I hated public displays of affection, though. That was it: the only reason I’d started fantasizing about shaving the woman’s head in her sleep was that open affection freaked me out.

William walked up to my left. “You okay? You . . . look like you want to strangle someone.”

I counted to five, stopped gritting my teeth, and forced a laugh.

“A fly won’t stop bothering me.” I waved a hand in front of my face, swatting at the nonexistent insect. “Super annoying. Anyway, I’m gonna get a drink.”

He looked as if he’d bought my fly story. “Get me one, too, would ya?”

“Sure, what do you want?”

“Surprise me.”

As I stood in a short line, I twisted the band around my wrist and focused on the large stage. The dreadlocks on the drummer’s head flew up and down like animated breadsticks, keeping time with hands that moved like pieces of a machine. It was loud, the music, the laughter, the chatter; the whole place was alive. I tried to soak it in as I stood amid the colors of “Roo”—shirts, tents, banners, and skin tones.

Chuck, who’d joined William when I returned, screwed up his nose. “Wine?”

“What’s wrong with wine?”

Chuck looked at William, then back at me. “I’ll be right back with a real drink.”

As Chuck walked off, William said, “Guess how many times Deanna has texted asking if you’re okay?”

“Three?” Deanna had tasked, threatened really, William, Grant, and Chuck with making sure I had a good time.

“Five.”

“She’s an amazing person, your wife.”

“I don’t know what I’d do without her.” He looked lost without Deanna by his side.

I patted his shoulder. It was sweet.

I stared at Grant and perfect Elaine because my defiant eyes wouldn’t stop floating over there no matter how many times I told them not to. Grant was talking to a small group. From this distance, I couldn’t hear what he was saying, but everyone had smiles on their faces. Grant belonged with someone like Elaine, someone without baggage. Grant was someone to get invested in, to get lost in, to get lost with. Which made him the exact kind of person I needed to avoid.

Why was I thinking about this?

I shoved up and told them I was going to take a tour of the vendors, hoping my “Oh really” and “That’s great” were appropriate responses to whatever they’d been saying.

I bought a lavender lip balm and a handmade quilt that looked like it’d been pulled from a mermaid’s undersea dwelling, my souvenirs.

The sun slid across the sky, and morning faded into afternoon. When my legs no longer wanted to support me, I found the group again and sipped more wine out of a red Solo cup as I listened to Chuck’s stories while music hummed in the background. Someone suggested getting closer to the stage as shades of evening began to bloom in the sky.

The noise and the wine dislodged the unhealthy thoughts that wanted to nestle in my brain. I’d been sure I was going to short-circuit in a crowd this size, but there was something to this carefree atmosphere, like everyone had left their troubles back home. I liked it. I needed it because I knew reality would soon rip this moment of peace away from me.

The wristband turned me into a superhero, immune to the past, living only in the present, where grown men wore onesies and glow bracelets were the only necessary evening uniform. I wasn’t even looking at Grant, who I knew was only a person or two away from me, when our group stood as close to the stage as the crowd would allow. This evening was for me. I declared it so. The wine agreed.

A new band was introduced, took the stage, wound up the crowd. The roar finally calmed as guitar strums reverberated from the platform.

Arms pumped. Feet jumped. Hair moved in the wind. And the lyrics of a band I’d never heard of before swirled around me, then climbed inside my body. The earth spun under my soles. I felt like I was somewhere else entirely, like the hundreds of people suddenly didn’t exist around me. The woman’s voice somersaulted over the crowd, singing only for me.

“It’s in my mind. I can’t outrun . . .”

My eyes scanned the crowd, trying to judge whether anyone else could hear what I was hearing or if I was imagining the words summing up my life.