18. The Party
THE PARTY
I arrive at Sandy and Erica's apartment and scan the room before I've taken my jacket off.
“Rhonda! You made it.” Erica, at the door, taking my coat, looking more relaxed than I’ve ever seen her.
“Nice place,” I say. “I heard you two used to share a wall.”
“We did.” Sandy appears at her shoulder, grinning. “Now we share a lease. Fewer noise complaints.” Erica elbows her. “Come in. Everyone’s here.”
The place is warm and loud and smells like wine.
There are boxes against the walls. A couch that's too big for the living room.
Art leaning against surfaces instead of hanging on them.
Both bands are here—Sirens, Belladonnas, partners, close family.
I count the people as I process the room.
Rebecca on the couch with Jo. Jani in the kitchen, holding a glass of wine.
And there, in the corner by the window, Lena was talking to Riley Puth—to her idol, the woman she’s built a secret shrine to—Riley ducking her head and blushing at whatever’s just been said, and Jani a few feet off watching the two of them.
Lena.
I look away. Too fast. I look at the drinks table instead, which is where I should be looking, because I am a woman arriving at a party and looking for a drink, not a woman who hasn't seen her girlfriend in weeks.
"Who are you looking for?" Ana asks.
I let out a scream and almost drop my drink.
“Whoa! I wasn’t trying to scare you, I swear."
"I wasnt—No nothing. Nobody."
"You keep looking over at the kitchen."
"I'm looking for wine." I cough.
I glance again at Lena. I know it’s not fair. I know it’s not even really about Riley. It’s about the fact that Lena gets to be seen wanting things, out loud, and I’ve spent a year making sure no one could see her want me.
"The wine is here." She gestures at the table we are standing next to. "Right here. You're standing next to it."
I reach for a glass.
"Thank you, Ana. I had no idea. Silly me."
"You're welcome." She pours me a glass herself and then pours one for herself. She turns to face the room, wine in hand, and watches me drink it. She does not stop watching me. "You want to know what I see?"
"No."
"I see a woman who's been trying not to look at the kitchen. I see someone who's very interested in not making eye contact with a specific person in that kitchen."
"I don't know what you mean."
"Sure you do." She sips her wine.
I don't respond. I can't. Because she's right, and we both know it.
The band has been pressing me about the mystery girlfriend since the cottage. A full week of pointed questions. Sandy is the worst offender. She appears at my elbow with a drink and the particular grin of a woman who's been thinking about this.
"Is she here?" she asks.
"Is who here?"
"Your mystery person. The one you soft launched at the cottage." She leans against the counter. "Come on. Spill."
"I didn't announce anything."
"You said I'm seeing someone. That's an announcement."
"No. Go away."
"Is it Riley? Is it Martin?”
I roll my eyes.
“No.”
Sandy's eyes go wide. She's already doing the mental calculations. Counting people. "Is it Rebecca? You can’t do that, that’s Jo’s—"
"No."
"Is it Jani?”
"No."
"That's a dodge. Is it Ana?"
I make a face.
“I suppose not Ana then. Is it Jeremy?”
I roll my eyes.
"No. Stop asking me.”
"Then it's someone from the industry. Someone from—" Sandy stops. She narrows her eyes. "Oh my god. It's someone you've been hiding from everyone. That's why nobody knows."
Jeremy, from across the room: "Sandy, come on. Leave her alone."
"I'm not interrogating. I'm expressing healthy concern as a friend."
"You're interrogating," Jeremy says, laughing, walking toward us. "Leave the poor woman alone."
"But she's so close to breaking. I can feel it." Sandy looks at me in the eye, and I look away. "Is she here tonight?"
I don't answer.
"You're not denying it," Sandy says, jumping with excitement. "She's here. She's definitely here."
"Sandy, enough," Jeremy says. "Let it be."
Sandy raises her hands in surrender, but she's grinning like she's already won. "Fine. But I'm going to figure it out." She points at me with her drink. "You can't hide forever."
Jo finds me at the drinks table. She's got her phone in her other hand.
"Guess what? The collab artist replied," Jo says. "Their manager sent through a draft contract. We have a meeting with them next week, want to come?"
"Of course. That’s great Jo, thanks for taking care of that."
"I should have listened to you before." Jo says.
I don’t say anything for a second, letting her words sink in.
"Thank you for taking care of the emails." I say.
"That was a start." Jo squeezes my shoulder. "But it was just a start. You carried a lot while I was somewhere else. You were carrying the band while I was checking out, and that's not how we're supposed to work."
"You were dealing with—"
"I know what I was dealing with. But that's no excuse. I should have been there." She's quiet for a moment. Rebecca appears next to her, slides an arm around her waist. "But I'm here now."
"We're going to figure it out," I say.
"Yeah," Jo says. "We are. And you're not going to carry it alone anymore. That was my mistake."
She goes back to Rebecca, and I exhale, feeling a weight lift off my shoulders.
I stand at the drinks table with my wine and my band’s renewed partnership and my girlfriend across the room—still talking to Riley, still glowing, Riley leaning in to say something that tips Lena’s head back on a laugh.
Everything else in the room goes distant.
My hands are shaking.
I watch her laugh and she’s handing it to Riley Puth, and the jealousy that’s been simmering in me all night finally boils down into something clean and simple: I don’t want to stand here watching someone else get the visible, unhidden, out-loud version of Lena that I spent a year refusing to claim.
I want to be the one next to her.
Ana is still watching me. I can feel her presence beside me even though she's moved on to talking to Jeremy about something.
I can feel it in my chest—the decision crystallising.
I set down my glass.
It makes a soft sound against the counter.
I'm done hiding. I'm done managing. I'm done protecting myself by asking her to disappear.
She exists fully. She exists with Jani, with her friends, with people she cares about. She moved through the world without hiding. She loved openly. And I've been asking her to be invisible alongside me, which is not love. That's not what love is.
Love is walking across a room in front of everyone. Love is putting down the glass and deciding that visibility is worth the risk.
I watch Lena laugh, at whatever Riley just said.
I breathe. Then I start walking.
I can feel the room shifting. I can feel people noticing.
Lena looks up.
She looks up and she sees me, and she smiles.
I reach her.
Her hands come up instinctively, a question written in her body. I reach for her face—palms on her jaw, thumbs along her cheekbones, the same touch from the first night on the couch. The same answer to the same question.
Then I kiss her.
In front of everyone. In front of Riley. In front of both bands. In front of a room full of people who have no idea what they're witnessing.
The kiss is unhurried and deliberate.Her mouth opens under mine. Her hands come up to my waist. For a moment, there's only the two of us and the fact of being known.
Then the room processes what just happened.