Page 53 of Meet Stan

There was a dark energy about us that night. The other people and couples especially could feel it. The air felt highly charged, like right before a thunderstorm. We moved through the gala making small talk to various guests, and never really going into any depth when asked how our relationship was going.

The skies intermittently threatened rain, but gradually cleared until a sliver of moon shone through the thin clouds. The time for the champagne toasts drew near, and my belly jumped and roiled with anxiety.

I just wanted to get it over with. I wondered what thing he was going to say to me. I feared it. Like knowing your boyfriend is going to abuse you verbally before it happens. Only he wasn’t my boyfriend. Not really. It had all just been pretend, and I was just a pretender, too. In other words, a liar.

Only I wasn’t pretending to feel. I kept staring at Stan out of the corner of my eye, hoping to see some sign, any sign, that he cared about me even a little. His defenses remained up the entire time. His eyes were cold and hard and inscrutable, he was an unassailable mountain beyond any human concerns.

Jonathon went first for the toast. He toasted to his wife, who in turn toasted to the hard-working employees of the firm.

As the time drew near for our turn, I almost couldn't stand myself. It felt like I had a swarm of angry bees in my belly, and fire ants running around beneath my skin. I fidgeted and gripped the champagne glass in my hand so tightly I’m surprised the stem didn’t break.

“All right, everyone,” Stan bellowed. I think he was pretending to be somewhat inebriated, though he’s barely touched a drop of alcohol all night. “I just want to make a special toast to my special lady, Ivy.”

Applause rippled up and I smiled nervously. I feared what was coming next.

“I just wanted to say, I forgive you for sitting on my Xbox controller and breaking it, even though it was completely your fault.”

My eyes bulged out of my head. I’d barely remembered sitting on his controller and had only done so because he started tickling me and I sort of fell onto it. He’d said it was no big deal at the time.

Nervous laughter rose up from the gathered throng. I took the microphone from his hand and smiled, though my eyes were fierce and cold as ice daggers.

“Thanks for that, Stan,” I said. I breathed into the mike and sighed. “Stan, Stan, Stan… Stan the Man. Can we get a little hand for Stan the Man folks? C’mon.”

People applauded, perhaps eager to get past the awkward moment where he’d insulted me for his toast. I nodded.

“Yeah, keep it going. I mean, Stan is a legend in this firm, right? Yeah, a legend for being a prick.”

Laughter rose up, but it faded quite quickly when people saw I wasn’t smiling.

“Yeah, Stan’s a cold bastard. You might think that he actually cared about me, the way we looked in public, but it wasn’t real.” I glared at him as he swallowed nervously. I was skirting the edge of revealing his secret, spilling my guts to the world. I held myself in check, barely.

“You don’t actually care about me at all,” I said as a hushed silence fell over the party. “Not one bit. You were just using me, and now that you’re done with me you’re going to just, what, act like a total ass so I leave you first? Well, you know what?”

I laughed. Jonathon covered his mouth with his hand. Megan and Mason held each other’s hands and looked as if they wanted it all to end. And Chandler shook his head sadly.

“It’s going to work.” I glared at him. “I am going to leave you before you leave me. You don’t deserve me. You deserve exactly what you have right now at this moment. Nothing.”

“Um, haha,” he said, grabbing for the microphone. “Okay, that’s enough.”

I pulled it away from him.

“Oh no, I don’t think it’s enough at all.” I shook my head. “You’re a selfish prick who uses people, and you could have had something real. Instead, you squandered it so you could look cool in front of your friends, I guess.”

I looked around, and I realized that I was ruining everyone’s night. Suddenly I didn’t want to be there. I wanted to be anywhere but there.

“I’m sorry,” I said, my voice breaking. “I’m very sorry.”

I shoved the microphone into Stan’s hand and turned to leave. When I got to the elevator, I headed inside and jammed my finger on the ground floor button. Just as the doors were about to shut, a hand thrust its way in between them.

I waited, hoping, fearing it would be Stan. Chandler appeared instead.

“Hey.” He stood in the elevator with me as the doors shut. “I’m really sorry things didn’t work out with you and Stan.”

“Thanks.” I sniffled, and he handed me a handkerchief. I blew my nose wetly.

“Listen,” he said. “I’m sorry about you and Stan, but I do want to say also you’ve done an excellent job as a project manager.”

“Thank you.” I smiled though the accolade didn't hit like it should have. I was hurting too much to realize how momentous it really was for my career.

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