i will survive

i don’t have enough friends to host a party. thank god. the small talk alone to sustain a small get together would kill me. or drive me to drink. or something.

i walk up the steps into a veranda. the fairy lights are up, the people are quarter way through the bar stockpile, and the hum of general conversation is well underway. glittering strangers.

i grab my champagne flute of juice, and try walking up the steps to the dance floor, but get waylaid by a couple from work. we schmooze about this and that, she name drops and i smile and grit my teeth.

i’m on my fourth group of schmoozers, when it happens. through the melee of people, i see him. conversation blends in, lights blur, and i almost choke on cranberry and preservative. his hair is still standing up rebelliously. he’s holding a glass, talking to a couple of investment bankers we invited at last minute. theres a woman with him.
wife? girlfriend? mistress?
when sound returns to my ears, i hear the end of a sentence on tax reforms and the patriot act not being renewed at congress.

i leave early that night. i’ll make my excuses the next monday.