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dear dimestore therapists,

for some reason, i thought that after the slap, aidan would start yelling at me and kick me out of his car. instead, he just put it in drive and we made our way to the party in complete silence. i kind of wished he would just yell at me; the quiet felt like suffocation, a slow death.

when we pulled up to jackie’s house, i tried to say something, maybe “sorry” or “i can explain.” but before i was able to get a word out, aidan got out of the car, slammed his door, and walked up the driveway. he didn’t even hold my door open for me, which he had done every day for the past year, since he got his driver’s license.

i hurried after him, tripping a little in my heels. i felt like an idiot, speed-walking past other party-goers to catch up to aidan, who obviously didn’t want company. i just didn’t want to walk into the party alone, whether he was willing to talk to me or not.

the front door opened as i walked up the steps, and i felt a blast of hot, beer-scented air on my face. the music thumping from within sounded like michael jackson, but i couldn’t be sure. i sidled in just as the door was closing behind aidan, and i grabbed for his hand as it swung behind him. he turned around to face me, and i about died at the look on his face. he’d been crying, i could tell. there were dried tear tracks on his cheeks, and his nose was red.

“what, olivia? what do you want?” he said. he never called me olivia. only livvy, or liver. hearing my full name come out of his mouth struck me like a punch in the gut, and i lost my train of thought. i couldn’t remember what i wanted, so i just stared at him dumbly. he pulled his hand from my grip and walked towards the kitchen.

after a moment of recovering my senses, i followed him, but i was stopped by one of my volleyball teammates, who wanted to tell me that she’d danced with her crush, or some such nonsense. i can barely recall the girl’s name now; i think it was liz. i just remember smiling and nodding, hoping she would hurry and finish so i could catch up with aidan.

when i finally reached the kitchen, aidan was nowhere to be found. i saw some of his buddies from the basketball team drinking and laughing near the door that led to the family room, so i asked them if they’d seen where he went. they were already pretty near drunk, but i gathered that he’d gone upstairs with some girl. i didn’t believe them, but since i had no other leads, went upstairs to poke around.

jackie’s house was enormous, and i’d never seen the upstairs before. it took me nearly twenty minutes to look in all the rooms on the second floor, which were all either empty or occupied by people in various states of undress, many of whom were horizontal.

the third floor was quiet, and i almost turned around to go back downstairs, thinking i was wasting my time listening to a bunch of meatheads who’d had too much to drink. but i went ahead anyway, compelled by some obsessive need to know if aidan really had left me alone to be with another girl.

the fourth room i looked into was jackie’s room. i could tell by the smell; she always smelled like vanilla. i could also tell because jackie was lying on the huge four-poster bed, knees bent, her white dress hiked up her tanned thighs. she was propped up on her elbows, and her head was thrown back, black hair pooled like silk on the pillowy white duvet. her eyes were closed, but still she managed to look like the cat that just ate the canary.

and poised above her, head bent to her exposed clavicle, was aidan. my aidan.

yours,

olivia

— Alexis

Tagged as: olivia