27. A Satanic Ritual with Frosting
27
A Satanic Ritual with Frosting
From Barry Wright’s manifesto:
Birthday parties are a tool of satanic cults. People sing a ritualized song to a person in a room lit only by candles. What else could they be doing but calling up evil spirits?
TESSA
“ A re we sure about this?” My voice was squeakier than I intended as I surveyed my kitchen. Savannah’s buffet of appetizers stretched across the island.
“Is it crooked?” Oliver looked back over his shoulder. He held one end of a gold-foil Happy Birthday banner and was taping it to the window frame in the breakfast nook.
“It is crooked. But I meant, all this.” I waved at the snacks, gold-tinsel boas, sparkly sunglasses, party hats piled on the coffee table, and the cake on the dining table with Happy Birthday, Savannah piped in icing on the top. (Although Savannah had insisted on preparing her birthday meal, I’d ordered the cake from a nearby bakery. No one should have to bake their own birthday cake.)
More than all the festivities in my formerly quiet home, by this I meant Oliver’s presence here, where soon my friends would show up and see us together. I was pretty sure they knew we’d been sleeping together for two weeks, though Oliver left early each morning to shower and change at his place before we went to work separately. I couldn’t have asked Savannah to keep that juicy bit of news from Carly and Lucie.
Playing it off as casual sex with a younger man, my coworker, was one thing. Having him here as my date or cohost or, I didn’t know, more than casual sex was over the line. Lucie, at least, would make a huge deal about it.
Savannah had been chill so far. Last weekend, Oliver had worn those obscene gray sweatpants I couldn’t stop salivating over. She’d treated him like part of the household by greeting him when he poured us coffee and asking him if he’d be joining us for dinner. I’d even caught her asking him about the steps he’d taken to start his business and what he’d done to keep it successful. A frown had flitted over his forehead at that, but he’d shot a glance at me and talked about surrounding himself with smart people.
Leaving the banner dangling, he descended the stepladder and rubbed my shoulders. “Is a party too much? I can start texting people to cancel. I’ll stand out on the street and wave them away.”
“You would, wouldn’t you?” I uncrossed my arms and wrapped them around his waist. Then I kissed him. “It’ll be fine. It’s only Savannah’s kids and our closest friends.”
“This spread looks like it’ll feed everyone you’ve ever met.” He nuzzled my ear.
“I didn’t want anyone to go hungry,” Savannah said, setting a steaming casserole on the island. “If we have leftovers, we can send them home with the guests.”
When the door flew open, I startled.
“Happy birthday!” Carly fluttered in with Andrew, who held a magnum of wine. “Savannah, you look gorgeous.” Savannah’s cheeks went pink to match her ruffly dress, which she wore with Carly’s present to her, a pair of gold sneakers.
“Thank you.” Savannah engulfed her in a hug.
When Savannah turned to hug Andrew, Carly approached me. “You look pretty too.” She leaned toward me as if to kiss my cheek but wobbled back.
“It’s okay,” I said. “You can hug me.” I felt better in my body since that night Oliver slept over for the first time, when instead of being revolted by my menstrual blood, he’d reminded me it was natural. His frequent touches—a caress on my cheek before he left each morning, a brush of my hand when he gave me his printed reports at the office, a casual kiss on the back of my neck as I sat on my couch and worked on my laptop in the evenings—must have desensitized me.
She wrapped me in a hug, not as tight as one of Savannah’s, and whispered in my ear, “You’re glowing. Happiness looks good on you.”
“Who said I was happy?” I grumbled. But she was right. A month in, the results of the clinical trials were promising. The team smiled and laughed at work, and so did I. Living with Savannah was more fun than I’d imagined, plus she’d been feeding me an anti-inflammatory diet that was supposed to improve my symptoms. Each time Oliver walked into my house, my heart gave a silly skip. When he held me at night, all seemed right in my world.
Oliver stepped away from Andrew and rested his hand on my lower back. “More guests incoming.”
I didn’t jump this time when Lucie and Danny strode in. Danny carried a crate full of bottles. “Happy birthday! I brought our bartender,” Lucie said, her brown eyes blazing. “You’ve got to try his new cocktail, Of Mice and Gin. It’s amazing. I’ve pumped, and he’s driving, so we’re all going to get birthday-sloshed—except Danny. And teetotaling Oliver.”
“Thanks, Danny,” I said. “You can set up over there.” I gestured at the small bar tucked away in one corner of the living room. The prior owner had been into entertaining, and I’d halfheartedly filled it with a few wineglasses and my favorite Irish whiskey.
Slowly, the room filled with guests. When Justine walked in with Bridget, she made a beeline for Savannah. Since she’d started working on her divorce case, they’d gotten friendly, and I suspected they’d grow closer once the case was done and Justine could ease off on her professional distance.
Bridget stayed with me for a few minutes to talk about our work. I updated her about the progress we’d made at Discovery—nothing confidential, of course—and she told me about her latest tiff with the CFO, Cole Campion. And as usual, she complained about her sexist boss, the CEO.
“You should leave,” I said. “Another company will recognize your awesomeness. A smaller company would be glad to have someone of your caliber in the CEO role. You deserve it.”
A smile played on her lips, and she leaned closer. “In the plane last week, he was on the phone with his financial adviser. He was trying to be subtle, but I’d bet my retirement fund he was talking about exit strategies. I suspect when Bill retired, he got jealous.”
“No! Really? I thought they were going to have to carry him out of the CEO’s office feet-first.”
“Apparently, his wife wants to spend more time with him. Can you imagine? With that jerk?”
“Nuh-uh. Only nice guys from here on out.” Like magnets, my eyes fixed on Oliver, who was chatting with one of Savannah’s sons. He had a little frown line of concentration between his eyebrows, but when he caught me looking, he smiled.
“Mmm,” Bridget said. “I see how it is. He makes you happy.” It wasn’t a question.
“He does…for now.”
“For now? What’s that bullshit?”
“I don’t know. He’s wonderful and all: smart, kind, and amazing in bed. But it’s too good to be true. He’ll turn out to be a liar, like Harry.” Even as I said it, I knew Oliver would never mislead me the way Harry had done.
“Or he won’t.”
“Maybe.” I couldn’t let myself hope that Oliver and I would stay together forever. I knew literally no one who’d done it. Savannah had been with her college sweetheart for thirty years, and now Justine was helping her through a divorce. Believing in love wasn’t logical. Or safe.
Danny and Lucie appeared beside us. Danny balanced a tray of drinks in one hand. Deftly, he pulled one from the tray and handed it to me. “Celebratory cocktail?”
“What’s in it?” I asked.
“It’s basically a blackberry bramble. Muddled blackberries with lemonade and gin, plus sparkling water for fizz. It’s sweet and refreshing.”
Lucie grabbed two glasses from the tray and handed one to Bridget. She raised her glass. “To Tessa. May she host many more parties, and may she continue to have excellent sex.”
“Lucie.” Danny frowned at his girlfriend.
“Fine. Only as much excellent sex as she wants.”
She drank, and after lifting my glass to her, I did too. I was having fantastic sex, the clinical trials were showing strong results, and I was happy for the first time in years. After a childhood where my security could vanish the second Dad decided we’d stayed someplace too long, I knew how precarious happiness was. This time, I hoped if I was smart about it and anticipated the problems, I could keep it all.
Like Lucie and Danny. On the surface, they seemed dissimilar. She was ten years older with a college degree and professional success, while he was a young, handsome bartender who’d lived downstairs from her. They’d taken a risk when they’d accidentally gotten pregnant and in the end, it had worked out for them. They now ran a bar together, and they seemed incandescently happy, both together and apart. A perfect example of a couple who had succeeded against all odds.
Could I have that too?
“See?” Lucie leaned into Danny. To his credit, he kept the tray steady and didn’t spill a drop. “Told you she was getting the good D on the regs.”
“It’s true.” I stared at the pink drink. Was there truth serum in there? Who was I, to talk about my sex life in public when I’d vowed never again?
Danny kissed the top of her head. “I’m going to pass out these drinks. Tessa, do you have more glasses?”
“The ones I borrowed from Oliver are in the left cabinet in the island.” I’d considered renting glassware and plates, but Oliver had enough for me to borrow. He liked having guests at his place. I scanned the room, where all our friends lounged on my couches and stood in my kitchen. Maybe I did too.
Danny walked off, and Lucie said, “Come on. Let’s grab Carly, then we can take a pic together to commemorate the time you let us into your stronghold.”
I already knew Carly was talking with Oliver and Andrew. The awareness of him was new. When he entered a room, especially at work, my gaze went straight to him, and my stomach gave a not-unpleasant skip. Hormones were impressive chemicals. Maybe if I had a biology degree like Oliver, I’d better understand what was happening and react more rationally. But what would be the fun in that?
When we joined their group, he seemed to have a similar awareness of me. Without looking away from Carly, who was talking, he slipped his arm around my waist and pulled me to his side. My stomach flipped again, and I inhaled his Christmas-tree scent. Pheromones: another interesting organic chemical. I put my hand on his back and rubbed between his shoulder blades. His back vibrated, and if not for the noise of conversation, I think I would’ve heard him purr.
Carly was laughing about something that had happened at one of Andrew’s mother’s famous brunches. They were notoriously high in drama since all four of her children were less tractable than she’d have liked. Andrew’s stubborn independence particularly irked her, especially after he’d gotten engaged to her frenemy.
“…Andrew was about to go nuclear. I mean, she called me ‘vintage,’ can you believe it? Then Audrey tried to backpedal and said I was aging like fine wine.”
Andrew mimed digging a hole with a shovel.
“I told her it was better than aging like milk. Brunch ended pretty quickly after that.”
Under my hand, Oliver’s chest rumbled with laughter, and although I’d missed most of the story, I smiled too. It was good to see him having fun with our friends. I could picture a future where he and I and my friends and their partners did things together. I was starting not to mind the crowd of people in my home.
Lucie said, “Props to Audrey. You’ve got to respect someone so committed to running the show.”
“I’m not so sure,” Andrew said. “She has eyes everywhere. I thought it’d be over when I left home, but she knows everything I do.” He rolled his eyes.
“It’s because you’re a public figure now, sweetie.” Carly laid her hand on his arm. “She watches your math videos. We can’t even be frenemies anymore.” Carly leaned toward Lucie and me. “After she got over the initial shock of Andrew leaving a high-paying job to star in dorky math videos, she became his biggest supporter. Not a week goes by when some school doesn’t call him because Audrey suggested it.”
“That’s sweet and also cringe,” Lucie said. “What are your parents like, Oliver?”
“Cold and stuffy,” he said. “Don’t get me wrong—they’re proud of me, but there’s a reason I live on the opposite side of the country.”
“God, I wish I’d thought to move two thousand miles away from my cold, stuffy parents,” Lucie said. “But that’s perfect. Plus, you’ll never have to meet Tessa’s parents either.”
My skin went cold with premonition as Carly reached for my hand. Her mother had died a long time ago too.
“Actually, I already met her dad,” he said.
My cheeks went hot as my friends stared at me. “Wait, I thought your dad was dead,” Lucie said.
“No, he’s only eccentric,” Oliver continued cluelessly. “He organized a protest at the lab.”
“What?” Lucie ground her jaw. She hated dishonesty. And even though I’d never said my dad was dead, I’d let my friends believe it. It was easier than explaining my fucked-up childhood. I didn’t want their pity.
“They don’t know?” Oliver asked, his eyes wide behind his glasses. His hair flopped over them in a way that seemed adorable that morning but now I found irritating. Ice-cold anger crawled through my veins.
“Come with me.” I turned and jogged up the stairs. A second later, his footsteps echoed behind me. I stormed to the farthest guest room, the one where I’d closed up the girls, and stood in the middle of it, arms crossed. Anita leaped off the bed and rubbed against my leg.
Oliver stopped in the doorway. “Look, I’m sor?—”
“Close the door.”
He stepped fully into the room and shut the door with a soft click. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know you hadn’t told them about your dad. Why didn’t you tell them?”
“Because it’s not something I’m proud of, and it’s none of their business.”
“But they’re your friends.”
“Exactly. My friends. Which means you have no right to decide what they know about and what they don’t.”
“But…” He tilted his head. “Don’t you trust them?”
“I do. Now I don’t trust you.” Like she was telling me how unreasonable I was being, Anita meowed. I bent and picked her up. But instead of flopping onto my shoulder the way she usually did, she leaned over my forearm and watched Oliver, flicking her tail.
He paled. “I’m so sorry. What can I do?”
“I don’t know.” I stared down at Anita’s soft blue-gray fur. What he’d done wasn’t so terrible. I’d have eventually told my friends, maybe on a night when I’d had an extra glass of wine. When Savannah was beside me. She hadn’t told anyone, so I could trust her.
Unlike Oliver.
When he stepped closer, Anita shifted her weight toward him. He held out his hands, and she leaped into them. She turned and glared at me as if to remind me, We like him.
We did. Which made it hard to despise him, even after he’d broken my trust.
“I’ll do anything,” he pleaded. “I won’t speak for a week. I’ll wear a hair shirt.”
I couldn’t help but smile. “Sounds itchy.”
“I’ll write that sonnet about you. It’ll be awful.”
I chuckled. “God, no. Look, be careful what you say about me. It takes me a while to trust people. The fact that you’re here is an anomaly.”
“I understand. And I’m honored.”
“Okay.” I took a deep breath. He’d said all the right things, and even though it felt like I was wearing that hair shirt under my skin, I needed to let it go. He’d meant well. And I liked him. “Let’s go downstairs before they get into the good liquor.”
“Tell me where it is, and I’ll pour you a glass.” Gently, he set the cat down on the bed, then rubbed the tense muscle between my shoulder and my neck.
“Yes, please,” I said.
He leaned forward to rumble in my ear, “After everyone goes home, I’ll give you a back rub.”
“Sounds fantastic.”
He held my hand as we walked back downstairs to the party. He stayed by my side, laying his hand on my lower back or brushing the inside of my wrist or leaning his shoulder against mine whenever he could, like his touch could reassure me he’d never betray my trust again. And I let him because it felt good. He knew all the ways to set my heart thumping in anticipation of what we’d do alone when everyone went home. But from now on, my skin would be a barrier. I wouldn’t trust him with any more of my secrets.