Page 133 of Life of the Party

When I finally made it in the door the night before, winded from the cold walk, my dad had actually hugged me. Mom was beside herself with excitement. Marcy offered me a drink, and Blake put his arm around me like it was a natural place for it to be.

I was surprised. Baffled even, and wary at first, just in case this was some kind of trick and Jake Donovan was about to hurry down the chimney. After a while, though, I settled in comfortably. I couldn’t help myself. It felt good. It felt like I belonged again, for the first time in a long time.

No one mentioned the wedding. No one mentioned Jake. My mother did mention Grey, her face totally innocent, asking me if he was joining us for dinner.

I was startled by the question.“No…he has plans.” I answered quickly, suspicious.

“Oh, well. Maybe next time.” She said. And it looked like she meant it.

I couldn’t believe it. It was like aliens had come and taken my old family away, replacing them with identical twins—nice identical twins. As the time passed, harmoniously for once, I felt all the anger I had towards them slowly fading away. Maybe the months we’d spent apart had cooled my jets, or maybe it was a sign, maybe I was growing up or something. Maturing.

Dad exclaimed over the putting machine I’d given him—Grey’s idea, he said every executive needed one. Mom loved her pink sweater, Marcy her silver earrings, Blake his pipe. I had to get him a pipe—come on, look at the guy. But he liked it.

I was glad I’d scraped up enough money to buy them all presents, though at the time, I’d wanted to use it for dope instead.

Marcy gave me a diary; it was beautiful, leather-bound with brown and blue embellishments. Blake gave me a chess set which I was actually afraid of, it seemed way over my head, but he promised to teach me. My present from my parents fit into a little tiny box they gave to me last, after all the other gifts were opened.

“What’s this?” I wondered. They became noticeably more animated as I held the box in my hands. “It’s not going to explode, is it?”

“No! Open it!” Mom could barely contain herself.

I grinned and unwrapped the gift as slowly as I could (just to make her go crazy), until even I couldn’t handle the suspense anymore. I ripped the paper away and tore the lid off the box. Inside sat a set of keys.

“Is this…” My eyes were wide. “Did you get me a car?”

“Yes!” Mom clapped, jumping up and down. “It’s in the garage.”

“An actual car?” I couldn’t believe it. I stared into the box, stunned, horrified.

I was terrible. I was a terrible, horrible child. I looked up at my parents, into their happy, shining faces—and was overcome with guilt. All consuming guilt.

“I don’t deserve this.” I decided, tears welling up in my eyes.

Dad shook his head. “Come on, don’t you want to see it?”

I nodded briefly. I couldn’t believe what they’d done for me, after everything I’d done to them…so much they didn’t even know about. I tried not to think about how much I’d stolen; I tried to push the guilt from my mind. I couldn’t tell them about it, not now. It would only give them a reason to hate me again.

I could be good now, couldn’t I? I could try to be good. I could try…

“Thank you, Daddy,” I whispered, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

“Thanks, Mom.” I squeezed her into a hug. They were both surprised by my affection, but I couldn’t blame them. They’d had months of nothing from me.

Marcy and Blake sat nearby on the couch, smiling at the scene without a trace of jealousy or resentment on their faces. I hugged them, too, just because I could, and though it took them by surprise, they seemed content—happy that I was happy.

My car was a thing of beauty. It wasn’t fancy or rare or expensive, which I loved. It was an old Ford Thunderbird, light blue, made in the late eighties. The seats were cushy with soft blue upholstery. It was necessarily an automatic and had a large, roomy back seat with plenty of space in the trunk.

I couldn’t stop thanking my parents; I thanked them over and over again. They were overcome by my happiness. I saw tears in my mother’s eyes.

After supper, we all took our drinks into the living room, enjoying the crackling fire and the soft glow of the Christmas tree lights. Everyone was relaxed and happy. I was excited, too; I knew that soon, I’d get to do some more heroin. It was so easy to sneak away and take care of myself and then return and continue on with total bliss and happiness. My family didn’t even notice. It was perfect.

Just when I thought the evening couldn’t get any better, the doorbell rang.

My heart leapt into my throat at the noise. I had been secretly hoping…it’d be just like him to…I ran to the door before anyone else had a chance. Sure enough, standing there in the cold with a smirk on his face, stood Grey.

I jumped into his arms. He was my best Christmas present by far. I kissed his face, every spot I could reach.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you…” I repeated in a whisper. He laughed at my exuberance, wrapping his arms around me and twirling me around.

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