The Party 300 a.m.
The Party
Erica’s slap stung his skin, and Billy released her wrist, raising his hand to his cheek.
“We can talk about this in the morning,” she said, her voice high and urgent. “But I’m leaving. Now.”
Billy let her go. He had to. She walked away and grabbed her bike, and then, as if she was never there at all, she was gone.
He watched the spot where she had been, wishing that she would come back, willing her to return.
He must have stood like that for five, ten minutes.
Or maybe it was only thirty seconds. Billy couldn’t keep track of time.
He looked up at his house, all of its windows dark, and wondered if his parents were sleeping in the same room tonight, if Olivia was tucked safely in the pool house. He wondered if anyone had puked on the lawn, if Glenda, the housekeeper, would talk shit about him to the gardeners in the morning.
He could climb into bed and sleep for twelve hours. More, probably. But he couldn’t let the night end like this. Not when Erica’s voice was bleating in his head. Not when he had just learned the most important information of his life.
He turned back around and faced the water. Jutting out from the rocky beach was the family’s small dock where they kept a tender, the little boat they used to get back and forth to Sea Witch, their sailing yacht, moored in the Sound, closer to the marina.
Billy’s feet moved before he could formulate a plan, and pretty soon, he was on the tender gliding over the surface of the water.
He would go to the boat and sleep there tonight.
Or at least watch the sun come up. It was there that he always felt calm, that he could always find answers.
It was there that Billy would find a way forward.