Backslide

Chapter 26 Nellie Today

There is dancing. There is singing—way off-key.

There are kamikaze shots I haven’t done since college.

There are joints for other people—the ones who can handle it.

There is Britney and Kelly and Taylor and Olivia and Patti Smith and Pat Benatar and Queen Bey.

There is A Tribe Called Quest, De La Soul, Biggie Smalls, Eminem, a little Nicki Minaj.

There are bathroom breaks and late-night pizza orders.

There is yelling above the din of the music.

There is laughing, hugs, sentimental tears, laughing again.

There is Cara’s smile and Sabrina’s snark and Rita’s slightly deranged line-dance moves—enacted even more terribly by Ben.

There is a picked-up breeze, a whistle through the trees.

Twinkle lights that sway with the ghosts of parties past. Flower arrangements that topple and are saved.

Spilled glasses of wine splashed along once-white tablecloths.

The smell of night-blooming jasmine. Cozy table blankets for staying warm during dancing breaks; hair swept into buns when it gets hot on the dance floor.

There is a night. One we’ll remember. And, all the time, I see Noah mostly across the room.

I know we agreed not to mention what’s happening between us to anyone, but it feels like maybe he’s keeping too much distance. As much as I hate to admit it, those old vulnerable feelings are creeping in, just the tiniest bit.

I try to push them back out the door.

I avoid Damien, too. Maybe that’s part of why I don’t see Noah that much. It feels like Damien is an appendage, always lurking at Noah’s and Ben’s side, dark and stormy, yet another drink in his hand.

But I don’t do a good enough job. Because, finally, as we are nearing dawn, light just beginning to encroach on the night’s edges, I collapse into a chair next to Cara with a tall glass of water (not Noah, an actual one).

“I have to pee,” she says to me. “Again. I don’t want to. It sounds boring. Like a waste of time. But I have to all the same.”

“Sad story,” I say.

“Do you have to pee again too?”

I shake my head. “You’re on your own, lady.”

I love drunk Cara. I love every Cara.

“Damn shame,” she mumbles, as she pushes herself to standing, slips her heels back on, and wanders toward the restrooms. “Save my seat!” she calls, before she disappears down the stairs.

I place a hand proprietarily on her chair. Which is unnecessary because I am surrounded by empty seats. And that proves unfortunate because that’s when I feel a shadow overtake me, as someone settles on the other side of me.

“Having fun?” Damien asks.

I was, I think.

“Yeah,” I sigh instead. “It’s nice to all be together again.”

He laughs, but it’s sharp and ugly. “Right. Together again. One big happy family.”

I know I shouldn’t take the bait. But he is raining on my parade and, if I can’t escape him, at least I can tell him to shut the fuck up. In the kindest way, of course.

“Is something wrong, Damien?”

“Lots of things are wrong. It’s all wrong.”

I am not a patient woman. And right now I just can’t. I turn to face him. “What’s your problem?”

“My problem?” he scoffs, pointing at me. “I don’t have one. You, though. You have a problem.”

He is drunk and slurring and I should ignore his stupid ass. But I can’t help myself, so instead I say, “What’s my problem? That you know so much about?”

“I thought you were engaged,” he says, in place of answering me.

“Oh,” I say, looking down. “Well, I’m not.”

He stares at me with bloodshot eyes. “I never took you for a liar.”

“Well, I always took you for one.” It flies out of my mouth before I can stop it. I am the old me. The sparring me. The me who says the thing. It is unwise; it is not helpful. But, if I’m honest, it feels good.

He squints at me, considers me. Like he’s seeing me in a new light. And then he smiles, which I think I like less than his frown.

“You always called it like you saw it,” he says, almost appreciatively. And, for a moment, we both watch Ben attempt the Kid ’n Play because we are old as fuck. “It’s nice to see that side of you again. I thought you’d gone soft. Ironic, though. That you’re so sure about who’s a liar.”

I roll my eyes. “And what’s that supposed to mean? Who’s the liar? That’s what you want me to ask, right?”

He just shakes his head at me. “I can’t believe you fell for that shit—again.”

“Fell for what?”

“For Noah.”

“Who says I fell for—?”

“And the thing is,” he steamrolls over me, “I tried to warn you. Back in the day and this time. I tried to tell you, but—just like everyone else—you’re so on his jock that you can’t see.”

“Excuse me. I’m not on anyone’s jock,” I say. “Partially because no one has said that since 1994.”

But there’s a fluttering starting to rise in my chest, an unease that sets everything at an odd angle.

Feeling at sea, I scan the dance floor, the space, the bar, looking for Noah.

I just want a visual on him, so I can remind myself that I know who he is, no matter how his supposed friend is trying to gaslight me.

I am not back on that couch, at that awful house party, watching Noah disappear before my eyes. I am not back where I started.

Damien laughs loudly. Only it’s not really a laugh. It’s more like a jolt, a stab, a punch to the gut. “You sure looked like you were on his jock back by the barn…”

My cheeks go hot. I’m sure I turn red. Maybe even purple. Because I am embarrassed. Of course I am. But I’m also real mad.

This feels like an invasion. A corruption of something good. Like he’s stolen something from me.

I turn to face him, willing myself to discard the humiliation and go with the rage. “What? So now you go around spying on people?”

“Well, honey,” he says, smug as fuck, “if you don’t want an audience, then get a room.”

I shoot to standing, so that my chair topples over behind me with a loud crash. I glower down at him.

“You know, I never liked you,” I say, above the pounding in my chest. “I never trusted you. I put up with you, faked it, to keep the peace. I watched you plant toxic seeds in Noah’s head, try to plant ideas in mine. You were always so fucking jealous of him. And you still are.”

And now it’s Damien’s turn to flush, his pale skin going blotchy and heated.

“Jealous of Noah? Please! Why? Because he had everyone fooled? Thinking he was so fucking charming when he was really just fucked up. I wasn’t jealous.

I was disgusted. It was pathetic. You were pathetic. And you still are.”

Inside me, the pendulum has swung so far.

It’s impossible to imagine that only minutes before, I was awash in a love fest with my best friends, relaxed and free and literally crying with gratitude for the wonderful people in my life.

And now, this asshat has corroded everything, coating it with a layer of tar and grime.

And I think I’m more angry about that than anything else. How dare he ruin this incandescent memory for me?

“Just stay the fuck away from me,” I say, and turn to escape—to anywhere else. Adrenaline tsunamis through me.

But now he is on his feet, following close behind me. “Wait, Nellie. Please. I’m sorry. I’m drunk. Don’t fucking listen to me. I don’t think you’re pathetic. I never thought you were pathetic.”

I turn to face him, my heart thundering in my chest. “You don’t get it: I don’t give a shit what you think.”

“I was trying to protect you!”

“This is your version of protecting someone? Violating them? Humiliating them? Degrading them?”

He looks to the sky, presses the heels of his hands into his eyes. “This isn’t what I wanted to happen.”

“What did you want?” I ask him.

“I just wanted to protect you from that!” he says, gesturing behind a tall wall of speakers. “Where’s your boy now?”

And then I see it. Catch a glimpse from the side where there’s a gap in the sound equipment.

I see him. Noah. Standing half-hidden, facing Lydia, the strap of her dress pushed off her shoulder, his hand on her side.

He’s leaning toward her, so they’re only inches apart.

And I flash to the moment not long before when we were that close.

When he pushed the strap of my dress down too.

With fucking Damien watching.

There is an intake of breath. Mine. Before the full weight of what I am witnessing descends, crashing down on me like another tidal wave.

That’s when Noah feels my gaze on him, like he always does. He looks up, meets my eyes, cocks his head, and then sees what I’m seeing. He bolts away from Lydia and toward me.

“No, no, no,” he says, as he comes closer. “It’s not what it looks like. I know that sounds like bullshit, but for real.”

I shake my head, too stunned to move. Too disappointed. Too sad.

As I force myself to turn to leave, Noah gently grabs my upper arm to stop me. I shake him free. “Don’t touch me!”

At that, the music stops. And suddenly all eyes are on me. The last thing I want in this moment.

“Nell, Lydia had an injury she just wanted me to check out.”

I roll my eyes. “How dumb do you think I am?”

“If you believe it was more than that, pretty dumb.”

“Is that supposed to be funny?”

“Nell,” he says, taking a deep breath to steady himself. “I’m telling you the truth. D, back me up! He was there. Lydia came up and asked me to check out her shoulder. Right?”

Damien shakes his head. “I’m not covering for you anymore, dude. I’m done. She deserves better.”

Noah’s mouth drops open like an escape hatch. Stunned that his boy has turned on him. “Wow,” he says, staring at Damien with a mash-up of confusion and anger. “Just fucking wow.”

I look from Noah, to Damien, to Lydia, who flashes me a wink and a smile.

I’ve never cared enough to even wonder why she despises me so much. But in that moment, I realize she hates me a thousand times more than I hate her.

Noah takes a step toward Damien like he might punch him in the face. And the tension in the space ratchets up, as others consider stepping in. I don’t care if they pulverize each other into tiny particles—but I don’t want to be here to see it.

“I’m leaving,” I say, and turn toward the stairs. And I mean it. I am leaving this party, this property, this state, maybe this hemisphere.

I will set up a new Planet Nellie. Somewhere very far away from these assholes.

“Nell!” Noah calls, turning back to me. “It’s me. You know me. I wouldn’t do this.”

“I don’t know what the hell is going on,” I say, my eyes starting to well, “but I know I don’t want any part of it. I don’t like this at all.”

I don’t want to feel this way. I will not cry in front of these people. I will not give any of them the satisfaction.

“What’s happening?” Cara says, returning from the bathroom and coming to stand beside me. Her makeup is smudged from our night of festivities, but she looks otherwise happy, glowing—or she did moments before. “What’s going on?”

I have already robbed her of something.

This brings me back down to earth, helps me grab at the pieces and try to press them back together in my mind. “Nothing, CB. Go back to the party! I’m so sorry.”

She looks at Noah, looks at me. “Did something happen? Why are you fighting?”

Neither of us answer. We have sworn each other to secrecy. Noah’s lips part, like he wants to speak, but he’s likely not sure what to say. Let alone how to defend what he’s done.

Cara turns to Sabrina and Rita, who have joined the crowd of onlookers. “Why are they fighting?”

They share an unsure look. Also don’t answer.

“Someone fucking tell me what’s happening?!” Cara demands. And it is so out of character that we all go still. “Sabrina!”

“I think,” Sabrina says, shooting a tentative look at me, “they’re together.”

“Who? Noah and Nellie? They’re together?” Cara’s brow, so relaxed moments before, is now crinkled in confusion. “You’re together?”

“Yes,” says Noah, just as I say “No!”

“Since when?” When Sabrina doesn’t answer, Cara shoots her another commanding look. She is not suffering fools.

“Since the day they skipped the booze bus, I think,” Sab mumbles, avoiding my eyes.

But I’m not mad at her. I’d rather she betray me than the un-bride.

“But that was days ago,” Cara says, puzzling it all together. She turns her gaze on me. “You didn’t tell me. I kept apologizing for sending you on those errands together. I kept checking in when you were stuck in the storm. And you never said a thing.”

I open my mouth to apologize, the crushing weight of my mistakes rooting me to the spot. Paralyzing me. But before I can speak, Cara cocks her head and says, “What about Alfie?”

I clear my throat. I glance at Sabrina and Rita. I glance at Noah. Even Damien. They’re all watching me expectantly. “Um. We broke up,” I say, quietly. “Over a month ago.”

“Broke up?” The hurt on Cara’s face is undeniable. It’s like something vibrant has gone out of her as she frowns. “Why wouldn’t you tell me?”

And when I look into my best friend’s face, her earnest bewilderment reflected in every angle, no viable excuse presents itself. So I tell her the truth: “I don’t know.”

“We’re supposed to be best friends,” Cara says. She looks from me to Sabrina, her eyes welling.

“I’m sorry,” I say, as Sabrina mumbles the same.

“I don’t know why I planned this stupid trip,” Cara says, shaking her head. “It was obviously a mistake. Do whatever the fuck you want. I’m done.” And then she rushes away, Ben close behind her.

He glances back from the top of the stairs, shooting us a disappointed look. Me most of all.

Sabrina sighs, her eyes downcast.

“I guess I should have told her,” I murmur.

“Which part?” Sabrina asks, a sharp tone to her voice.

“I don’t know. All of it.”

She huffs impatiently. “Yeah, I think a lot could have been avoided if you were just honest.”

“I didn’t want to make this trip about me.”

Sabrina looks at me, her own anger playing on her face. “Yeah? How’s that going?”

She shakes her head and stalks off, too.