
Itās going to be a Harry Potter party. I get my costume ready in the bathroom: hike up my skirt, get my makeup right, tousle my hair to look like Hermioneās. Youāre watching Netflix in the other room, trying to make it seem like you donāt care. Youāre still mad about me flirting with my coworker last week. I donāt know why I did it, but that didnāt stop me from calling you a baby. I donāt know why Iām doing the things Iām doing anymore.
I thought of inviting you, of introducing you to my new work friends, maybe trying to mend whatās been broken. But I didnāt. What I did was accept the invite, order the pieces I was missing from my costume, and hide the Amazon boxes once they got here. What I did was change my mind, wait till you got home, and try the costume on where I knew youād see me. And the way you tried to be nonchalant about hanging up your coat, but how your eyes trailed over me as you walked over to the closet. And when you didnāt say anything, when you started to walk away, how I asked you what you thought. How I looked. How your eyes showed your hurt, but you said I looked good. How you opened your mouth to say something, to ask something, but stopped yourself.
Itās gotten so Iāll stay at work till 7 or 8, tell myself I need to stay late to prepare for the next day, but I know that isnāt true. I know that I just want to walk past my coworker one last time and imagine what heād smell like on top of me. I know that heās staying late on purpose too, that weāre moving past each other over and over, closer and closer, waiting for one of us to bump into the other. Heās single, and I think about this as I fiddle with my engagement ring, as I pee one last time before heading home, staying in the stall so long that the lights automatically go off.
We havenāt fucked in weeks. I find an excuse every time, and when you remind me how long itās been, I go to the bathroom and use my vibrator. The last time I did this, I walked back in the room to find you jerking off, not bothering to hide it under the covers. You left yourself out for a while even after I walked in, and I acted like Iād seen nothing. I got into bed and under the covers, and when your foot touched mine, I told you to move over.
When we do touch, itās in the form of a play fight, and we grapple and vie for control because to hug and to hold would be too much at this point. But by the end of these play fights, weāre sweaty and tired, leaning up against each other like spent boxers, and youāll try to sneak a kiss. Iāll jerk my head away and tell you how sweaty you are. If youāre lucky, Iāll pretend to be dead weight, and youāll have to grab me and pull me back up. Youāll have to save me.
I think of all the ways I could end it. I could sit you down over dinner, or call you when Iām at my momās, or text you after work. I could pack up all my things and leave without saying a word. I could do these things, any of them, without hesitation. Donāt think I couldnāt.
When itās time to go to the party, I rush to get my shoes on before you can get up and go to the door. I just say, ābye,ā and I leave. I sneak out the bottle of Jim Beam Iāve stashed in my purse and nurse it for courage before getting on the CTA bus.
When I get there, I do that thing where I hug the wall, near my friends, and smile and nod when someone I know walks by and acknowledges me. My coworker spots me eventually, pours something I canāt see into a cup and brings it to me. He challenges my HP knowledge with some trivia, which I ace, but I smile anyway. He refills my cup and challenges me to a duel. Produces two wands and hands one to me. My cheeks burn as I smile and shake my head, but he challenges me loud enough that everyone hears. Gets everyone to clear out of the way and form a circle around us. Itās over in seconds: one shout of āExpelliarmusā and he tosses his wand high in the air. I send out my Patronus for good measure, but he surrenders.
An hour goes by, maybe two. My coworker and I stop drinking and just talk. When the party starts to thin out, he offers to give me a ride home. No sense in taking the CTA and dealing with weirdos, he says. I say yes.
When I tell him the address, he says heās just a couple blocks away. That weāre practically neighbors. Thereās silence for a while, and he says something about stopping by his place for coffee. So we can wake up. I say yes.
When heās inside of me, all I can think of is our first date, sneaking into the mall with you after watching a movie, getting into the playplace that was meant to be a forest and lying on the grass carpet as Snow Patrolās āChasing Carsā piped out of the mall speakers. How we were silent. How we had smiles, matching, unaware of the future. How we followed the songās advice and just lay there, our fingers intertwined.
