“We’re going to rent a party bus and go down to the casino!” Barb tells me, eyes sparkling from laughing, drinking, smoking, and soundly kicking our asses at the card table.
“Assuming I don’t kick the bucket before then,” Harvey says.
“Oh, no, we’ll still rent the party bus,” Lenore puts in. “It’ll just be a funeral instead of a birthday.”
“Going out in style,” Harvey says.
“Should we make sure you’re wearing your signature look?” I ask, gesturing toward his getup. As soon as I’ve said it, I feel that familiar oh shit dip in my stomach, unsure whether the joke crossed an invisible line.
But Harvey’s coughing out a laugh along with a cloud of smoke. “You can come back,” Harvey tells me; then to Ashleigh, pointedly, “Bring her back.” Then, to me again: “Just don’t expect special treatment at work.”
I cross my heart.
At the front door, we all exchange hugs farewell, then Ashleigh and I slip on our shoes and step out into the quiet cul-de-sac. Most of the other houses are either totally dark or have one lone bulb glowing beside their front doors, but if Ashleigh’s to be believed, poker night is just getting started.
“Share a cab?” she asks, swaying slightly on the spot as she summons one on her phone.
Neither of us is fit to drive. “First a hobby, then a cab,” I say. “What’s next?”
“A deadly secret,” Ashleigh deadpans.
At least I think it’s a joke.
“That was really fun,” I say. “I haven’t been to a party since . . .” I think for a moment. “My engagement party, I guess.”
“You thought that was a party?” she says. “We really do need to get you out more.”
I shrug. “I’ve always been kind of a tagalong, I guess. Only lately I haven’t had anyone to tag along after.”
“You’re not a tagalong,” she says. “You’re a we-girl.”
“Like a wee lass?” I ask.
“No, like, We love that restaurant. We always vacation there. We don’t really like scary movies. A woman who’s more comfortable being a part of a whole, who never goes anywhere without a partner.”
“Shit,” I say. “You’re right.”
“Of course I’m right,” she says. “I’m wise.”
The first we was my mom and me, then it was Sadie and me, then Peter. I’ve always cleaved to the people I love, tried to orient my orbit around them. Maybe, I realize, I’ve been trying to make myself un-leave-able. But it hasn’t worked.
“I don’t want to just be a part of we,” I say. “I want to be an I.”
“You’re already an I. It’s just about how much you embrace it.”
“I guess,” I say.
Ashleigh appraises me. “You held your own tonight.”
“Yeah, well, I have a feeling they went easy on me,” I say.
“Oh, they treated you like you were made of glass,” she agrees, her head cocked and gaze appraising. “But you’re not so delicate, Vincent.”
“I’m not.” It feels true, at least right now. I’m not so delicate. Lonely, hurt, angry, a little bit whiny? Sure.
But not delicate.
Maybe I could handle staying here, where my life fell apart. Maybe I could start over, making something my own this time.
The cab pulls up.
“Ashleigh?” I say.
“Hm?” she says.
“Thank you,” I say. “Really.”
She rolls her eyes. “We needed a fifth.”
I shake my head. “Not just that. For being my friend. For still giving me a chance, after the last year.”
Her ever-blunt features soften. “You know,” she says, “I needed one too.”
“I’m glad it could be me,” I tell her.
“Right back at you.” The cabdriver flashes his lights at us, and with our arms slung over each other’s shoulders, we wobble down the driveway to meet him.
For reasons I don’t completely understand, I feel like I could cry.
