Page 39 of The Vacancy In Room 10

“Who’s this?” Becca adds, forcing a smile and shooting Andrea a look I can’t interpret.

“Barry, this is Becca and Andrea.”

“Oh, hey,” he says, nodding too many times and holding his hand out to shake, which they are forced to meet with theirs. “Your nails are cool. They look like little Samurai swords,” he says, and Andrea looks down at her ridiculously long curved nails and raises her eyebrows at him.

“Bare, can you get me a punch or something?” I ask, and he too eagerly agrees and makes his way to the food tables.

“Surprised to see you here,” Becca says.

“I come every year,” I say, standing my ground.

“Yeah. You know Reid will be here, right?”

“I haven’t talked to him, so I wouldn’t know.”

She looks around in a way that makes me think she’s hoping not to be seen with me. And it just now dawns on me that I can’t be the pariah just for getting cheated on and dumped—he must be saying things about me for people to respond to me this way. Not just people; friends—or so I thought.

“How is Reid?” I ask, suddenly wanting them to be uncomfortable—to tell me something that will make sense of all this.

“As good as he can be, I guess, after, you know...everything that happened,” Becca says.

“What...what happened?” I ask, genuinely completely confused.

“Really?” Andrea says, and then nudges Becca and points across the dance floor to someone.

“Oh, my God, it’s Bethany Sorenson. Did you see her at Leah’s wedding? God, it looked like someone stuffed a couple honey-baked hams into the back of her dress.”

“And the worst part is she did that on purpose. That ain’t too much buttercream—although did you see her shoveling it in at the cake table—she had those babies implanted.”

“Ass implants. Ass-plants,” Andrea says, and they burst into laughter.

“Who are we talking about?” I ask, but Becca ignores me, puts her glass on the bar, and tilts her chin across the room.

Andrea gives me a tight smile. “Well, it was nice to see you,” she says, and they both turn and make their way to the other side of the bar where their husbands are in a circle of other husbands who probably wish they weren’t here and linger in the bar area to watch a golf game on a mounted TV on the wall. I look in the direction she motioned toward, to see Reid and Kimmy moving through the crowd.

What am I doing here? This is the last thing I need to worry about. I order another shot of tequila and stand against the bar as they walk past, not seeing me, thank God.

It’s like they’re moving in slow motion as she flips her long blond waves and purses her lips, nodding to acquaintances as she moves through the sea of people like she’s on the red carpet or something. She’s all big boobs and skinny tan arms, and Reid...his short-cropped hair and clean-shaven face—the tux I know so well, the citrus cologne I can smell without even being near him.

An unfamiliar feeling surfaces—longing mixed with a hatred that feels uncontainable. I order one more shot. Then I stay out of their sight as I make a beeline to the table the pool girls have near the dessert buffet. Jackie has three fruity drinks in front of her, Rosa is dancing in her seat to the Bruno Mars song playing, which Barry is singing along to into a butter knife microphone, and Crystal is pounding miniature strawberry shortcakes.

I stare at Reid and Kimmy as they meet Becca, Andrea, and the group of husbands.

“Is that her?” Crystal asks with her mouthful of whipped cream. “Want me to go over there, scare her a little?”

“You ain’t scary, bitch,” Jackie says. “Look at ya.” She flicks her belly.

“No,” I say quickly. “Just... I think we should go.”

“Go?” Jackie snaps. “There’s an open bar. You’re nuts. I’ll take the bus home. I’m staying here.”

Crystal digs into a plate of ribs and nods in agreement.

“Here.” Jackie hands me a Long Island, and I take it. I wanted to take the edge off, but I don’t drink often enough for three shots, a minivan wine cooler, and half of this drink to not have me feeling suddenly very drunk. It’s like it all just hit me, and I want to take it back. I desperately want to go back in time and decline all of these drinks. I wanted to keep my wits about me, but that’s not what’s happened.

I feel like I’m swaying back and forth ever so slightly just sitting here, so I fear standing up, but I need to go throw up. I hear one of the girls call after me as I get up and rush to the bathroom.

I panic when I can’t find it and then finally see a sign pointing down a flight of carpeted stairs. I run down, taking them two at a time, and vomit the sickly sweet tequila into the toilet just in time. The stall is spinning, and I want to die. I truly just want to lie down and not wake up in this moment. I’m so tired, so utterly miserable.

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