Chapter 3
My cell phone buzzes, grounding me back to reality. I reach into my jacket pocket and check the screen. Ava is calling, the friend whose rooftop party introduced me to Oliver.
“Don’t hate me,” she says.
Never a good way to start a conversation. I could tell her about the chaotic morning I’ve already had, that I chased a would-be burglar out of my apartment with a bat, but that would prolong my curiosity about whatever it is she’s devising. The excitement in her voice makes me want to know.
“Don’t make me hate you.”
She sighs. “I’m not handling the whole you-leaving-the-country-for-the-next-six-months thing well. So, I had an idea…”
This might be an even worse conversation starter. Ava and I met as roommates back in college and remain best friends to this day. Her ideas either turn into something spectacular or lure me into something I don’t want to do. Usually, a combination of both.
“We all know socialization is my coping mechanism, and your birthday is right around the corner,” she continues, “so I’d like to throw you a party.”
“Ava, no—”
“It would double as a going-away party,” she continues, refusing to let my rejection stand in the way of a good pitch. “Who knows when the next time we’ll see each other will be? You have to let me do this.”
Party planning is what Ava does for a living. She’s organized dozens of events for celebrities and socialites and athletes. Most people would jump at the opportunity to use her services, for free no less.
And yet, the last thing I want to do at a time like this is celebrate.
“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I tell her, wishing she’d just listen.
“It won’t be anything big. The normal gang will be there.”
The normal gang minus Oliver, I think, my stomach twisting into knots.
“Fuck Oliver,” Ava says, as though reading my mind. “He might have reneged on all his promises to you, but we can’t let him ruin everything. This is the next chapter in your life, and you must meet it with positivity. Not all this whiny victim energy.”
A harsh laugh escapes. “Is that how I’m coming off to you?”
“That’s how you’ll look to everyone if you don’t show up to your own party.” She sighs again, this time with more compassion. “I mean, the whole thing is practically planned. Food, decorations, entertainment.”
“Entertainment?”
“All you have to do is show up,” she says, bypassing that question quickly. “I’ve arranged everything else.”
As usual with Ava, I’m not sure whether I want to strangle her for the inconvenience or kiss her for the consideration.
Most of her weekends are booked out in advance by high-paying clients.
No matter how nonchalant she is about the whole thing, she couldn’t set aside a last-minute weekend for me without some schedule rearranging.
And it’s obvious what this is really about.
She spins it as a party to celebrate my thirty-fifth birthday, but it’s a Band-Aid to mend my broken heart.
The last thing I want is to face my closest friends with a forced smile on my face, all of them knowing that my world has just imploded.
I remember the paralyzing dread I felt when I had to call them to explain that Oliver and I had decided to cancel the wedding, each of their pitying reactions forever stamped into my memory.
I had to fend off their offers to come over and commiserate with me, insisting I wanted to be alone.
My plan was to avoid visiting any of them in person until after my trip to Europe, when I could confront them as a stronger, more secure person.
Ava is making that impossible.
“I have to go,” I tell her. “I’ll be late for Sunday brunch.”
“Fine, fine. Call me after you talk with Evelyn.”
Evelyn is my grandmother, but Ava always calls Marmee by her first name, accentuating the deep connection they’ve built over the years.
“Ava, have you been talking to Marmee?”
“Just call me after you leave,” she says, hurrying to get off the phone. “Love you. Byeee!”
Ava has always been dramatic, leaving me in the dark about what she might spring on me next. And now, the strange confidence in her voice makes me wonder what she knows that she isn’t saying.