Page 76 of I Did Something Bad
“And I’m May.” May waves at the two of them. “I haven’t met either of you.”
The beginnings of a squeal leave Thidar’s mouth, and she covers it up with an un-coy cough. “Hi, May,” she says. I can see her hands shaking. “We’re big fans. My fiancé and I. Oh, that’s him,” she says, tipping her head over at Patrick, who is singlehandedly laying out the table like he’s plating in aMasterCheffinale.
“Hi,” he calls as he straightens out the knives and forks against an invisible ruler. “I’d come over and say hi but I was put on food duty and told that if I fuck this up, I can find someone new to be engaged to, but the bad news is I’m hopelessly in love with my current fiancée so I can’t afford to be distracted,” he says in one rushed breath.
“Don’t listen to him, he’s always cracking weird jokes,” Thidar adds with an embarrassed laugh. “None of us really get them. Shall we eat?”
“I’ll get the beers,” I say, starting for the fridge. “I’m sticking to water because I have to drive May and Tyler back. But is everyone else drinking?”
“Not me,” Patrick says.
“Me neither,” Nay says. “Butyouhave to drink! It’s your housewarming!”
“We can take them back!” Thidar says. “We’ll take Tyler, and Nay can take May. Hey, that rhymes!”
“Khin, you’re not going to be on designated driver duty at your own housewarming!” May says.
“Fine, fine,” I relent, realizing May’s actually just as pushy as Nay and Thidar.
While the rest of the group diverts toward the table, Tyler follows me into the kitchen. “I’ll give you a hand,” he says with a smile that feels more flirtatious than it should.
I crouch down in front of the fridge and reach in to wrap my hands around two bottles when my body tenses, a relaxed soldier instinctively snapping to attention. He’s pushed the door a bit farther and now we’re hidden by it. He bends over beside me so we’re at eye level, our cheekbones barely skimming. “Hey,” I say, already feeling my brain start to unravel and forget the entirety of the English language, or, really, any language.
“Hey,” he says.
“Thanks for this.”
“I played a very minor role. And anyway, I wouldn’t have missed it for the world,” he says, and somehow,somehow,I know he means it. That even if the Oscars or Grammys were happening right now, he would still choose to be here.
Because he stays.
I turn a mental dial and lower the sound of laughter from the other room so I can focus on this. Right here. And for a minute, I let myself dream, like a young, wide-eyed actress who’s just landed in Hollywood with dreams bigger than anything she’s ever known.
I bet,I catch myself thinking,I would actually like hiking if we hiked through a forest that smelled like your cologne.
I bet,I catch myself thinking,if the timing had been slightly different,this would’ve been something so incredible, even we wouldn’t believe it if it hadn’t happened to us.
And I bet,I think, breath shaky, eyes dangerously close to filling up with tears that I do not want him to see, a warmth whose intensity is so blistering it hurts as it surges through my body.If I loved you any less, I could bring myself to be selfish enough to keep you.Because I do, I realize. I love him already. Not that I would ever tell him.
I thought I would be mad at May for wanting to turn me in, or even for wanting to get me to turn myself in; I definitely tried to be—but I can’t. Because I understand. All she wants to do is protect him, because if she doesn’t, then who will?Golden boy with an actual heart of gold,I think ruefully.
“What is it?” Tyler asks, lips so close to mine I can smell the mint.
“Stay.” I say it without hesitation, but also without regret.
He studies me, exactly the way he did at our first meal—like knowing me is the easiest thing in the world for him. Maybe it is.
“Okay” is all he says before grabbing another two beers.
Dinner is good. More than good, it’sfun. Ben and I used to host dinner parties at our place all the time, and no matter how tired I was, it would be the highlight of my whole week. Ever since I moved here, dinnertime—or any meal, for that matter—has merely been a case of me shoving enough food into my mouth to keep myself alive. One plate, one spoon and fork, one cup: minimal food, minimal company, minimal dishwashing.
But tonight, I don’t mind that I can already see the tower of cutlery and plateware in the sink from here. I don’t care that more than one piece of food has been dropped on the ground, more than one drop of the boys’ disgusting beer-and-champagne concoction spilled. I could burst with the joy that stems from remembering that I am notalone, that I have never been alone, that if all of these people—these people who arethebest people I know—have shown up here because they love me and want to celebrate me, then I cannot be as big of a disappointment of a human being as I thought. And theleastI can do is try to live up to this incredible version of myself that they see.
When the banana and chocolate roti are brought out for dessert, I stand up and clear my throat.
“Yessss, speech!” Thidar whoops.
“Only if you don’t turn this into a thing,” I warn. She and Nay make matching zipping motions across their mouths.
