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Carys ended up transferring to Queen’s. We had a few classes together, and one drunken night in fourth year, I ran into her at Alfie’s. Her hair was shorter by then, but she still had those piercing eyes. Drunk but not sloppy—perhaps overly friendly—she apologized in her girlish way for being so mean that New Year’s. She hadn’t known me, and I hadn’t known her, not really.
Rob had wandered over then, swaying slightly, his eyes glassy, his baseball cap askew. “Oh no—” he said.
“Don’t worry. We’re fine. Future me trusts you.”
* * *
All these years later, maybe finally understanding that I needed to make a choice that could make me walk out into the cold night alone on New Year’s. This time, though, the other woman in my life was Beth, and there was no way I would abandon her.
On my way down to see if I could find Siobhan’s purse, my heel got stuck in the metal grating on the stairs. How ironic, the anti-trip-guard had tripped me up. When I righted myself, there was Garrett, holding out a hand to steady me.
“Hey,” he said, “you all right?”
“Fine, thanks for the hand. Wait here, I have to see if Siobhan checked her purse. Beth sent me on a mission to find it. At a party like this we’re all Siobhan’s assistants.”
Garrett nodded and stood off to the side, leaning against the red wall, his hoodie zipped up tight.
The intern working the coat check and I fumbled around for a minute and, miracle of miracles, Siobhan’s clutch was there, tucked deep in the interior pocket of her vintage fur coat, which I pulled off the hanger and took with me.
“Come on upstairs with me while I get Siobhan sorted,” I said. “And then we can talk. Or rather, I can apologize properly because I am so sorry. Is Jen not with you? I know she’s probably not at all interested in talking to me, but I’d like to apologize to her anyway.”
“Jen’s at home.” He didn’t move, even though I had started up the stairs. He pulled at my arm. “She’s packing now to go back to Vancouver for a bit, asked for some time off of work, time away from me—she doesn’t know about anything right now.”
And as we stood there on the stairs, happy people coming and going, I held him, as I had always wanted to. But what with everything that was happening, I knew he wasn’t mine to want. There was sadness in every part of him as he leaned into me, and while he wasn’t crying, he was heavy, weighted, pulled down in a way I had never seen him before. Garrett was the life of the party, always making light of every situation, trumping a punchline with something funnier, at ease with himself and with other people.
“I didn’t realize how much I wanted out until it wasn’t fair anymore,” he said.
The right response would have been to tell them to try again. Now they knew what they wanted, it would be easier than breaking up. That he was strong and such a good person, and that they were so lucky to have each other. But the selfish part of me stood there, barely out of my own relationship, holding him.
“I didn’t tell you at your house, I couldn’t even admit it. But I feel the same way about you. But I’m such a mess,” he said. “I can’t go from one to the other. I can’t jump from Jen to you, and we can’t run away together.”
“I know,” I said as I pulled away, tucked his arm in mine. “Let’s get you a stiff drink.”
Relief washed over me as I realized that I hadn’t ruined what I needed more than anything now—friendship. I managed to get Garrett a spot at an out of the way table in the VIP section so he could just sit and sip in peace the giant glass of scotch I left with him.
Then I noticed that Marianne had seen us. She stormed over, a hurricane of misspent energy and misunderstanding. I stood in her way before she could get to Garrett.
“You are pathetic,” she said. “Simply pathetic. You’re a selfish, self-centered whore who doesn’t deserve him.”
“Get it all out, Marianne. Say what you need to because it doesn’t matter to me. All that matters is what he thinks of me, and that he knows my intentions are good. You can hurl all the words that you want at me, but right now I’ve got to get Siobhan’s clutch back to her before Beth loses her shit. And then I’m going to sit and spend the rest of the night talking to Garrett, whether you like it or not.”
Marianne elbowed past me, knocking me off balance slightly on her way to Garrett’s table. Days ago, I would have raced after her, jealous of anyone else being around him without me, jealous of their history, their growing up together. Who knew that New Year’s Eve could be a night of clarity and understanding? New beginnings, sure—but how about understanding your love life in one crystal-clear moment, just like when I had walked out of that party. When I had held Garrett in that hug, I had known, just known, that all my feelings for him were real, but they were also just another way of not dealing with what Ishouldhave been feeling for Rob.
“Oh my gawd, Kelly, you are simply the best,” Siobhan said. She was sloppy drunk, and she threw her expensive coat on over just one half of her body; the rest hung down and dragged along the floor. Her ankles leaned dangerously over her shoes. Her husband looked annoyed and frustrated. He gave her a look, and she said, “All right, all right, we can go now, you giant stinking party pooper.” Siobhan turned to me. “He’s pissed because he had tickets for a rock concert tonight at the ACC, and I ruined everything again with my job. Yawn. But he doesn’t understand how busy and importantIam. I am. I am.” And then she hiccupped. I couldn’t believe it—it was picture perfect and so ridiculous.
“Have a nice evening, Siobhan. The party turned out amazing.People will be talking about its success for years, I know.”
Siobhan’s husband pulled her off me. I could see him speaking angrily to her as they left.
In an instant, I saw how ridiculously drunk and stupid I must have been at the company party a few weeks ago, how unprofessional I’d been acting. It was hard to be Siobhan; it was hard to want to be so successful. The pressure probably made it all worse and so much harder to hold it together. But this wasn’t the answer—getting so drunk that you were hugging your staff and talking down to your husband, who was standing right next to you.
Maybe my mother was right; I needed to take my life more seriously. I hated that she wasalwaysso very right—not because she knew everything, but because she knewme, and maybe that was worse. I did need to take myself more seriously. Staying on a course that I was obviously driving hard against, like walking against the wind when you could easily just turn around, was me wasting my life.
“Love will always change the direction of your life,” she had said last week. “But make sure, in this case, that you aren’t using it as an escape hatch.”
“Rob is not a bus I’m trying to jump out of!” I’d shouted.
“Are you sure?” she replied.
