Chapter 21 Don’t Bother, They’re Here
Chapter 21
Don’t Bother, They’re Here
W hat I wanted to do with my spare time was dive into stereotypical breakup activities: singing along to breakup songs, eating expensive ice cream straight from the container, refreshing their ex’s pet grooming business’s Instagram. Instead, my downtime was going toward building a presentation deck, even though I wasn’t sure if I believed in my own cause anymore. I still owed it to everyone else to get the job done.
My phone vibrated with a message while I was reformatting some year-over-year data— post-Chloe, my weekends had truly changed for the more boring—and I glanced at it with more desperation than I was comfortable with. I’d been avoiding almost everyone. There was nothing that felt right to say to Chloe’s friends. My friends probably weren’t missing me—plus I knew how pathetic they thought I’d been as a single person! I couldn’t bear getting those Laura Linney looks again. Greg, somehow, was the only person I was successfully texting these days. Since he hated email, I’d experimented with sending a voice memo, and he’d sent one right back. It had taken over thirty years, but my brother and I had finally figured out a communication method neither of us hated.
The message on my phone, though, was from Fiona. Since there was no way she could know about my breakup, I hoped it couldn’t be too bad.
I’m sure you’re already on your way up, but if it’s possible, could you pick up a few cartons of soda? Hay forgot and we are going to reach Cold War worst-case scenario levels of nuclear meltdowns soon if this problem isn’t solved in a matter of seconds.
Something sounded in my brain like an alarm, or one of those clichéd dreams where it was the morning of the final exam and you’d never remembered to go to class until today. A brightly colored Paperless Post danced in my mind’s eye.
Today, I knew in a flash, was Ellie’s first birthday.
“Shit, shit, shit,” I yelped, slamming my laptop shut and leaping over Small Jesse Pinkman in a move that startled both of us. In my full-length mirror, I saw exactly what I was—a desperate and unkempt woman who had barely left her bed over the last few hours.
Summoning every bit of magic in the universe—plus my tried-and-true makeup routine and an atmosphere’s worth of dry shampoo—I was out the door and pulling into the nearby 7-Eleven’s parking lot only eight minutes later. I bought nine kinds of nonalcoholic carbonated beverages, as if volume could replace thoughtfulness, and texted Fiona a photo of my trunk chockful of my haul.
Drive fast , she texted before I could even back out of the parking space. If you get pulled over, tell them one of your friends is about to die. Because if these sodas don’t get here soon, we’re not all making it out of here alive.
I glanced at Waze and grimaced.
You should know that despite our warnings, there is a clown on the premises. Not metaphorically speaking.
I closed my eyes, breathed deeply, and told myself this would all be fine.
My phone buzzed yet again. Oh and I assume Hay told you Will is here, but I’m telling you too.
The very worst part about how mad I was is that I had no right to be at all, and I knew it. I was the one who’d dumped Will. I was the one who’d completely forgotten about this party. I was not the only one who could have advocated harder against clowns, but I still bore some brunt of that responsibility. I was clown complicit.
Traffic was lighter than usual, though I wasn’t sure if that was a favor or a fuck-you from the universe, considering what I was racing toward. Parking in the suburbs was easy, so I was able to pull up right outside of Hailey and Michael’s home and start yanking cartons out of the trunk.
Fiona strode down the walkway toward me. “What the hell took you so long?”
“It’s a long story,” I said, even though I forgot was only two words long.
“You look terrible,” she said, grabbing two cases of Diet Coke. “But you’ve saved the party. However much a clown party can be saved.”
I followed her around the house to the backyard, where a shockingly large group of people were gathered. Maybe no one had noticed I was just arriving now. Except that I caught Hailey’s eyes, and she looked back for only a long moment before rushing away to help Michael set out a large sub sandwich.
“Hay’s going to self-destruct,” Fiona said. “And Michael’s too nice to do anything about it. We’re going to have to snap her out of it.”
I shrugged. “I’m not sure she wants that from the person who was over a half hour late.”
Fiona eyed me before heading over to deposit the soda into coolers between the snack table and the— shit —table piled high with presents. All of this was exactly the kind of stuff Will wouldn’t have let me forget, and I didn’t understand how I could be flailing so much when it had been right to end it. Could you buy a baby a gift card on your phone while the party was going on? How did babies get gift cards anyway? Did they have email addresses? Was there any way out of this where I didn’t look like a thoughtless asshole?
“Fiona said you brought twelve dozen cases of soda,” Hailey said, appearing in front of me, practically vibrating with the same kind of nervous energy she used to bring to school during midterms and finals and the PSATs. “You’re my hero. I can’t believe I forgot non-juice beverages! Today was supposed to be perfect.”
Her extremely unwarranted gratitude was so surprising that at first I forgot to speak.
“I knew it,” Hailey said. “It’s bad, right? You can tell no one’s having fun?”
“No, everyone’s having fun,” I said, gesturing around the crowded yard with an expertise I did not actually have. “Look how many people came! The weather’s good—not too hot, not weird and overcast. There are a lot of kids here, but I don’t hear any crying.”
“That’s because there’s a clown!” Hailey said, in the exact opposite tone I would have used.
“See? Perfect. You nailed it!”
“OK,” she said, nodding quickly. “When Ellie’s older and asks about this party, you’ll tell her all of that?”
“Sure, of course,” I said, heartened that Hailey thought I’d still be in her life then. “I should say—”
“Sorry to interrupt,” a woman said, cutting in between us. “Hailey, would you remind us where your bathroom is? I know you haven’t dealt with potty training yet, but it adds a whole extra urgency to the whole thing.”
“Of course, I’ll show you,” Hailey said, dashing off.
I glanced around the yard, not sure if I was looking for people to talk to or people to avoid. Mainly I wanted to blend in, be invisible amongst the married couples, the families, the happy suburban people who I knew would only see me and my life as failures. I wanted to time travel, even as little as twenty-four hours ago, when I could have loaded up my car with sodas ahead of time, bought too many presents from one of the adorable toy boutiques on the Eastside, set out my most flattering dress, not forgotten .
“You look terrible,” Fiona said, popping up next to me.
“You said that already.”
“I mean it double. Where’s the girlfriend?”
“Work,” I lied. “Schnauzers.”
She nudged me, and I glanced over to see a sleek matte blue flask in her hand, like a Prohibition-era Stanley Cup.
“Are you drinking at a child’s birthday party?” I asked.
“It’s the only way I’m getting through this.”
I laughed and took the flask from her, tipped back a swig. “Did the clown already leave? I don’t see him anywhere.”
“No, and don’t let him hear you,” she said, tucking the flask back into the pocket of her jeans. “He lurks where you least expect him.”
I grimaced. “Is that normal for a clown?”
“There is no normal for a clown,” Fiona said. “OK, I have to rescue Alex from Hay’s neighbor who keeps asking him for free legal advice. Come with?”
“No, go save your man, I’m fine,” I said, and walked over to the snack table for some organic cookies and a Diet Coke. And then when I turned around to figure out a shady spot to hang out, he was right there.
“Hey,” Will said.
“Oh,” I said, “hi.”
He looked the same, and he didn’t. Instead of his usual T-shirt and jeans, he was wearing—well, still a T-shirt and jeans, but the shirt had nary a tech company logo on it, and the jeans looked like they’d cost money this decade and not a previous one. His brown hair still flopped down over his left eye, but his smile was tentative. It wasn’t at all how he’d spent nearly two decades looking at me.
“You look nice,” I said.
“You too,” he said, and I laughed.
“I definitely don’t, I got ready in like three minutes and it shows.”
Will shook his head. “You always look great, Clementine.”
We were both silent, and then we both opened our mouths at the exact same moment. I’d been dreading this moment, but I’d never thought about the fact that he would just feel like Will, that maybe he would always just feel like Will.
“I heard you’re seeing someone,” he said, looking away from me.
“Kind of,” I said, which was almost the truth. “What about you?”
He shrugged. “Kind of here too. My therapist says I shouldn’t jump into anything, and I think that makes sense.”
“You’re in therapy?” I was so surprised that I practically shouted it, and the look of horror on Will’s face made me feel like I was an even bigger asshole than the day had already established.
Until I noticed the clown-shaped shadow cast over both of us.
Until I felt a poke in my side. From, horrifically, a balloon sword.
The clown gestured for me to take the sword, which for no good reason I did. He pulled a second sword out of god-knows-where, honked his own nose, and assumed a dueling stance. Getting trapped in clown warfare felt like unnecessarily harsh karma for forgetting about this party.
“En garde!” he cried, as his pants fell down, revealing giant red-polka-dot clown boxers. Were there lingerie stores for clowns? Was it Bozo’s Secret?
“I’m a … peaceful person,” I said, stepping back from him, as children shrieked with laughter in the background.
“Sure!” the clown said, undeterred by my combination of fear and disinterest. “Any balloon animals for you two?”
I waited for Will to acquiesce.
“I think we’re good,” Will said. “But thank you for your service.”
The clown ambled off to his next unsuspecting victims, and I burst into relieved laughter. “‘Thank you for your service’?”
“I panicked!” Will grimaced. “I didn’t want him to squirt me in the face with that flower.”
“No, truly, I’m honestly impressed you sent him on his way. I guess therapy’s teaching you some things.”
I regretted it as soon as it was out of my mouth. Coming from someone’s ex, that kind of thing just sounded mean and petty. But Will was nodding .
“Yeah, you know, it’s a long time coming.”
“Will? I don’t think I handled anything very well,” I said, the words tumbling out of my mouth faster than I could think through them.
“No, you didn’t,” he said. “But I probably didn’t either. We can call it a draw.”
“That’s really generous of you,” I said. “Thank you … for your service.”
Will cracked up. “It was good to see you, Clem. I’m gonna check if Michael needs any help with the grill.”
I waved to him and watched him roll up to Michael like the grill expert he most assuredly was not. Still, I could see how he was someone newer, someone better now. It wasn’t only seeing him in a T-shirt that hadn’t started off as swag; he was sending away clowns and talking to a therapist. Meanwhile, I was lying about the status of my not-even-real relationship and providing beverages in lieu of having anything to actually offer in friendship to Fiona or Hailey these days.
I’d been willing to blow up my whole life for a chance at what I actually wanted, but right now the only one blown to bits was me—standing here, alone, somehow still holding a balloon sword.