Page 104 of Is This for Real?
“I was—” I say.
Rory’s phone rings.
“It’s my dad. He’s upset about a call with my mom,” Rory whispers. I nod.
“I can’t hear you,” Rory says to his dad. “Wait a minute. I’ll go to the back.” Rory disappears back into his bedroom.
The first lines of “It Had to Be You” fill the room. I step off to the side as couples dance close. Jake comes over and asks, “Where’s Rory?”
“His dad called.”
Jake nods. “Sorry about playing—”
I cut him off. “It’s okay. Rory is just dealing with a lot right now.”
Callie is dancing cheek-to-cheek with one of her business school friends. I start picking up stray cups and bringing them to the garbage under the sink.
I walk back toward the table of food on the side, now scavenged over, to see what else I can clean up. The picture of us in ourCasablancacostumes is missing. The table has moved away from the wall. I lift up the tablecloth, and it’s under the table. It must have fallen through the crack between the table and the wall. I hike up my robe, so I don’t get any crap on it, and crawl under the table to get it. It’s in the corner. The tablecloth falls back down, so I’m hidden. If I hear Zelda, I’m going to surprise her.
“I just don’t understand what he sees in her.” Callie’s voice.
“I like Penelope.” My heart stills. I don’t recognize the male voice.But thanks.They must move away because I don’t hear anything more. I’m clutching the picture of us. On all fours. I should just stay under the table for a while. I can’t actually see the picture, but I know how happy we look in the fictionalCasablancaworld. I back out so that I can come out the other end of the table and slowly lift the tablecloth to make sure I don’t startle anyone. Nobody there. I crawl out and stand, picking up the picture and taking it and some empty plates to the kitchen with me.
Standing alone in the empty kitchen, among piles of discarded plates, a row of finished wine bottles, and an overflowing garbage can, I watch the party out in the room. I rub my arms. My body feels heavy. It’s not Rory’s fault. I’m just disappointed. I should check on him.
I walk toward the bedroom. I hear Rory say, “Maybe you just need to give her time alone to think about things.”
I stand at the doorway.
He’s listening to his dad, his back to me. Then he says, “I’m sure she hasn’t been dwelling on these things for the last twenty years. It’s not all a mirage.”
I walk into the room and touch his back.
He turns. “Penelope, I’m busy right now.”
I step back. The turbulent feeling in my stomach swells.
I walk back into the living room. The party is winding down. Many people have left. Some people are looking for Rory to say goodbye. I tell them he’s talking to his dad. I don’t think he wants to be disturbed. Half-empty glasses are deposited haphazardly, chips are strewn on the floor, and one curtain is hanging crookedly from the ceiling.
Jake comes over. “Is Rory still talking to his dad?”
I nod.
Jake gives me a hug. “He’s not thinking straight.”
Zelda comes over. “I’m going to head home. Do you want to come with me?”
“I don’t know.” I feel like crying. I don’t want to sob to Rory about not spending any time together at the party when he’s dealing with his dad. That will probably look immature. My stomach feels queasy. But I also don’t want to stay here in the front room by myself waiting for him. And I don’t particularly even want to talk to Rory now. I’m upset. And I’m mad at him. It might be better if I cool down, if I look at this calmly after a full night of sleep.
“I should help clean up.” I wave at the remains of the night.
Audrey joins us. “We’ll stay and clean up.”
I am drained. My disappointment is crashing down on me. I tear.
“Thanks, guys.” My voice is a little wobbly. It’s like Rory and I broke up publicly at this party, only I didn’t get the memo.
I find my coat deep in Rory’s closet and leave with Zelda. Jake turns off the music as we leave. The last of the partygoers follow us down the stairs.
