10. Chapter 10
“Dad! You know I only come over here for the free hot meal. Over my lifetime, I’ve come to expect a certain level of quality…and you ordered a pizza.” Scoffing, I placed a stack of pizza boxes on the dining room table.
“Baby girl.” Dad playfully glared as he pulled down plates from the cabinet.
Laughing, I pulled out a chair and attempted to sit down. I say “attempted” because the chair folded under my weight and my ass crashed to the floor.
“WHAT THE HELL?!” Wincing, I rubbed my sore-ass cheek. Dad sat the plates on the table and helped pull me up.
“Sorry about that, Poppy. I thought I had taped it together well enough. I’ll glue it together tomorrow.”
I looked behind me at the discarded heap of a chair and, for the first time, noticed all the packing tape on its legs and underside.
“Christ, Dad, there’s no saving that thing!”
“Poppy, you just aren’t handy. I can have it back to new in no time.”
“Dad. It’s time to get some new furniture.”
“I can fix it.”
Right. My childhood home was a shrine to a woman that died the day I was born.
“Dad, that thing is beyond fixing.”
“POPPY!”
Dad’s anger lashed out like a rabid lion, all rage and blind fury directed at me. My eyes widened as his resentment burned my skin. Blisters unseen, the burn sank into my muscles to settle in my bones.
You killed her.
If it wasn’t for you, I’d still have her.
All unsaid, of course. But he didn’t have to say it. I knew how he felt. His feelings echoed through every part of my life. Her memory was more important than my existence. The chair was just another example on a lifelong list.
The sadness was usually well-persevered underneath everything.
Dad had gotten better at hiding it over the years, but it was always there, unmoving and unchanging.
Weary, so weary. The deep lines around Dad’s eyes were hurt’s personal etchings.
The tears had stopped, but the pain just wouldn’t leave.
I poked. I shouldn’t have poked; I’ve had a lifetime of training to keep everything in. But no, I was too fucking incompetent to save myself. I swallowed the lump that formed in my throat.
“… Let’s eat on the couch. I’ll put on a movie,” Dad grumbled as he grabbed the pizza boxes.
The outburst wasn’t who Dad was. And that was the end. No concession. No compromise. No apologies. An abrupt end. Like always.
None of that excused the hurt left in its aftermath, of course. The hairs at the back of my neck refused to back down no matter how many times I told myself things were okay.
***
My visit with dad weighed on me. A catalyst for my tailspinning mood.
I sat in the Popbyte workspace thinking and overthinking our interaction.
Through the static of my emotions, I could never seem to figure out how to do things right.
I wasn’t authentic in my relationship with dad.
We were close, two peas in a pod, but there would always be one thread between us threatening to pull us apart.
You murdered the love of his life.
I swallowed that thought down. The truth was too fucking painful. The only way any of this could be solved would be to unwind myself from him.
“What’s wrong, Poppy?” Jordan asked on his way to the breakroom coffee pot.
I blinked out of my unproductive fog and shrugged. “Feeling down.”
“Again?”
Again?
Always again. Forever.
“Yep.”
“Cheer up Poppy.” He grabbed my shoulder and shook it.
If only sadness could be shaken off so easily.
“Working on it.”
Jordan pulled his phone from the pocket of his jacket and fired off a text.
I raised my eyebrows. “What are you doing?”
“Don’t worry about it,” he muttered before wandering off.
I didn’t have to worry about it until I did. Mid-afternoon Jordan appeared out of nowhere and slammed his hand on my desk. My shoulders shot up to my ears.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK?!” I yelled.
He grinned. I grimaced.
“Dinner Party.”
“What?” I asked.
“Dinner party. Shay wants to throw a dinner party. She thinks it’s the perfect thing to cheer you up. Clear your Thursday evening.”
A dinner party was the opposite fucking thing to lift my mood. But I showed up anyway. Shay threw the dinner party for herself with the caveat that it was for me.
I rubbed my temples in preparation before knocking on their front door. She answered the door looking like a 70s disco queen in a floor-length floral print number. Without even a hello, she yanked me inside.
“Poppy!” she whined. “I need your help!”
Jordan was too busy prepping in the bathroom mirror to help. She pulled me into the kitchen and ordered me to remove food from the delivery containers and place them in new glass trays. I held in a laugh.
The absurdity of life.
Shay held back tears as she explained her humble attempts at cooking had ended in a hundred dollars’ worth of burned food.
“I think if you tell everyone you made the chicken masala but ran out of time and had to order the rest, no one will be mad. It’s just a little lie. No big deal,” I reassured her.
“You sure?”
“Totally. Everyone’s just excited about the free food.”
“You’re the best, Poppy!” She kissed my cheek before dashing into the dining room.
The moment we sat out the last tray, guests arrived. I fashioned a smile on and prepared myself for forced interaction in opposition to my mood. Back pressed against the sliding glass door in the living room, I tried to stay grounded. That got increasingly harder as more people milled about.
“What’s up, Poppy?”
A tall guy dressed in a loose-fitting button up smiled at me. I swallowed down a grimace. I had been gaming with these people for years and I didn’t really know them. He usually played a bard in the TTRPGs, and that was the extent of my knowledge of him as a person.
“Nothing much.” I shrugged.
Bard Guy laughed. Before he could continue our conversation, Jordan walked up and slapped him on the shoulder.
“What’s up, Russ? Hey, Poppy.”
I waved. Of course he would make an appearance now that everything was done and the guests had arrived.
He was put together in his tweed jacket and ironed slacks.
I lacked any effort in my oversized shirt and leggings.
Jealousy burned in my chest. Everyone in the room moved through life and interacted so easily.
Their smiles seemed effortless in a way I could only dream of.
No clouds of doubt and questioning circled their heads.
I was in a room surrounded by friends and people who knew me, but I was alone.
My brain had pushed me away from everyone.
I sidestepped into the kitchen, crouched beside the trash can, and tried to breathe.
Get it together Poppy!
“Dinner!” Shay’s voice reverberated through the apartment.
I slid into an open chair between Jordan and Shay.
She explained about the ordered sides. Everyone laughed.
The little lies go down so much easier. I sipped white wine and shoveled food into my mouth with the grace of a toddler.
Conversation buzzed in my ears; it filled the space reserved for my negative self-talk.
Someone was planning a trip to India. Two guys were having a debate on which US president would be the best lover.
Reddit was launching a streaming service.
Some comic book was canceled. All interesting stuff.
I traced a finger along the condensation on my empty wine glass as Jordan and Russ’ conversation beside me heated up.
“I don’t care what you say! Civilian life in Gotham City would make a great series!” Jordan tapped his fork against his plate to emphasize his point.
“I don’t care how hard you hit stuff! It doesn’t make your point better. No one wants to read about John Doe going to the corner store when Batman and his 80 kids are down the fucking street chasing Joker!” Russ huffed.
“It’s in the approach! It’s the storytelling!” Jordan countered.
“The idea isn’t good…” I coughed.
His face soured. Oh, Jordan and his pretentious self. I couldn’t resist the chance to gang up on him. Such moments were so few.
Russ chuckled. “She’s totally right.”
“Thanks.” I wiggled my eyebrows in some show of emotion before pivoting my attention back to my plate.
Shay nudged my ribcage with her startlingly sharp elbow. I hated that I said anything. Now, it was going to become something. Not organically, of course, but an exercise in matchmaking.
Ugh.
I reached across the table for more wine. As I tried to temper my gulps of social lubricant, my phone buzzed.
Summoner OMG: Hey, what are you up to?
My heart flopped, forcing a hiccup. My shoulders bunched around my ears, creating a makeshift barrier between me and everyone in the room.
Poppy: Dinner party its a nightmare
Summoner OMG: Oh no, what’s going on?
Poppy: I dont want to be here
Summoner OMG: Yikes.
Poppy: Exactly
Summoner OMG: I hope there’s not too much tension at the dinner party. I heard the forks and knives are in a real spat.
The cheesy line spread a genuine smile across my face.
Poppy: Youre hopeless
Summoner OMG: How about this one: What did the grape do when it got stepped on? Nothing, it just let out a little wine!
My eyes widened, and a burst of laughter erupted from my lips. His joke was so stupid and unexpected that a giggle instantly transformed into an uncontrollable full-body laugh. Surrounding conversation fizzled in the face of my random outburst. Cheeks on fire, I shrank in my seat with a hard cough.
Poppy: LOL ur killing me
Summoner OMG: Don’t die Poppy! Who else will I tell these jokes to?!
Poppy: hopefully no1