Page 5 of Fun at Parties
Oh.I opened my mouth to speak, but she cut me off.
“Please don’t try to cheer me up. What I really want is to go into the living room and do a thousand-piece jigsaw puzzle in silence. Will you do that with me?”
“Of course,” I said. “I’d be honored.”
She wrinkled her nose. “Don’t make it weird.” Since I’d moved in, the puzzles had been her thing. After that night, they became our thing. Not just when she got her period, or when she started fertility treatments, or when her first round of IVF failed, although then too. But also on Wednesday and Sunday evenings. And while at first we did them without talking, eventually conversation began to flow.
I’d love to demand that we work on a puzzle in silence right now, but Michelle won’t let me get away with that, so I answer her question about Tracy. “She wasn’t thrilled.” I fill her in on the details while she opens a bag of spinach.
She groans in disgust. “You’ve been benched. Is that legal? I can ask one of my lawyer friends if you want.” Unlike me, Michelle is not a big Tracy fan.
“No, no,” I say quickly. “She’s one hundred percent right. Did you see me out there? A break will be good. I just have to figure out the best way to use it.”
Which reminds me, the last few days of my vacation are already accounted for. I scroll through my message log, looking for Bailey’s name. It’s further down than I expected.Guess what, I type.
She messages me back right away—not the norm, since the work days at her new dermatology practice are busy.
Bailey:???
Bailey:I meant to text you earlier but I had a packed schedule all morning—Giana said something about a video of Caleb being an ass? Is everything okay?
Last night, after the video hit, I thought about calling her. But Bailey and I have been off for a while. Not fighting. Just out of sync. She was supposed to visit but had to cancel because of work, our phone calls fizzle out too early, and our taste in memes seems to be diverging.
Quinn:First of all, never apologize for being a badass who spends her days kicking the butt of every sketchy mole at the Jersey Shore. Second of all, I’m good! The video looked worse than it was. Plus, to make a long story short, it got me some unexpected vacation time, so GUESS WHAT I’M DOING!
Bailey:Ooh fun! Hmm…are you finally going to that public speaking workshop with the TED Talk lady you’re obsessed with?
Bailey:Or visiting the CycleLove London studio?
Unease fills my gut. I told my best friend I have time off, and it didn’t cross her mind that I might use it to go to her big thirtieth-birthday party. Her expectations of me are nonexistent. And, yeah, I don’t always message her back, but I didn’t realize it was that bad. She thinks I’d rather spend my vacation doing work-related things than see her.
Like I said: Caleb had a point about the coldness.
Quinn:Nooooo I’m COMING TO YOUR PARTY!
She doesn’t respond immediately, and the unease multiplies. Usually she’s the one who’s good at staying in touch, but she’s been as bad as me lately. I keep telling myself it’s because she doesn’t have time, between the new job, the friends she’s made, and the beach volleyball league she joined this summer. But a stubborn worry keeps bubbling up: that she’s finally realized I’m not worth the effort, that the things I used to be good for—a fun time, a pep talk—aren’t things she needs anymore.
Finally, her response comes in:NO FREAKING WAY. I’m literally tearing up I’m so excited.
A flood of relief loosens the tension in my shoulders. It’s not too late to salvage this. I can be a better friend.
Quinn:What’s the theme again?
Bailey:I got rid of the theme. When I ran it by a few people they didn’t seem into it. I think the theme parties have run their course and it’s time for a regular party.
What? No. Bailey and I planned her first themed birthday party together when she turned nineteen. It was epic. Making friends at that party is what saved me after the worst year of my life. Every year after that, we tried to one-up ourselves, making the theme more ridiculous than the year before. Like the “Early Bird Special,” which started at fourp.m.on a Saturday and involved gray wigs and a mashed potato bar.
I’m not a party animal, exactly. What I love about them—at least the way we do them—is that when you’re with the right people, and you add some silliness and make it feel special, you get the kind of fun, unpredictable moments that turn into memories. That bring you closer together.
There has to be a theme, I tell her.
I wish, but I don’t have time to get people onboard, she replies.
I do, I answer immediately.Send me the guest list. I will make it happen. You’re getting the thirtieth birthday party of your dreams, okay?!
Months ago, she decided to go meta with the theme. Everyone was supposed to dress like characters from iconic TV and movie party scenes. It’s perfect, if I can revive the idea and convince enough of the guests to commit to it. That might take a bit of effort, but I have time. Lots of it.
I look up from my phone to see Michelle on her tiptoes, grabbing the protein powder from the top of the fridge. “What do you think I should do with three weeks off? I’m going to spend some of the time in Seapoint.”
