Come To Me (Owned 3)

“I just wanted to give you a party…” Lenny looked away. “I know I fucked it up. I’m sorry.” Lenny threw her hands up and walked away. I followed her slightly swaying body as she made it back to the apex of the party. She opened her mouth to—I was sure—kick everyone out.

“Well,” I said loud enough to talk over her. “Who wants charades?”

Zoe jumped up, her body knocking over a tray of mostly eaten appetizers. “Fucking finally!”

I should have known charades would devolve into a complete and utter shit show. We already had uneven numbers because Eli was at home studying. Uneven numbers were bad luck. It was perhaps the one superstition I held, but I held it for a good reason. When Lenny came back down from grabbing paper to write out teams and categories, her face was different, closed off and cold. I knew something had happened.

“What’s up?” I whispered to her while Lissie was up acting out some kind of book. Lenny ignored me, arms folded. Our therapist’s advice drifted into my mind like the bay breeze, and like the breeze, it was hardly noticeable.

“Thus Spake Zarathustra!” Grace called out.

Lissie gestured to Grace that she had figured it out and then turned to Zoe, her face red either from drink or frustration, probably both. “What the fuck, Zoe?” Lissie yelled, pushing back a strand of loose blonde hair. “Are you for real? I put down Harry Potter.”

“Go big or go home.” Zoe shrugged as she stood up, preparing to act out her own charade.

“I’m surprised Grace even got it,” Lissie said, sagging into the couch.

“Well when you’re a social recluse for upwards of eighteen years…” Grace mumbled into her drink and they started the next round of charades. Still, Lenny’s participation was lackluster. When she made guesses, her eyes were focused elsewhere and her voice monotone.

I poked her playfully. “What’s wrong?”

Turning away from Zoe, she yelled at me, completely obliterating the pretense of whispering. “I found the insurance policy, that’s what’s wrong. Will there ever come a day when you don’t lie?” I exhaled, blowing strands of hair away from my face.

Fuck.

Briefly I wondered what our friends thought of us. I wondered how they even managed to put up with us, why the even bothered.

“Vic,” Grace said, trying to diffuse the situation. “You’re up.” I looked to Grace, reaching a hand to me from where she sat cross-legged in a chair. I snatched the paper from her and read the ridiculous movie that had been written down. If it were any other time, I would have laughed at what was most definitely Zoe’s contribution. It wasn’t any other time. Lenny stared daggers at me, her eyes burning holes into my skin.

I sighed, not sure how in the motherfuck I was going to act out Night of the Day of the Dawn of the Son of the Bride of the Return of the Revenge of the Terror of the Attack of the Evil, Mutant, Hellbound, Flesh-Eating Subhumanoid Zombified Living Dead, Part 2: In Shocking 2-D in under a minute and thirty seconds. At my displeased expression, Zoe laughed and said,

“I think I know which one he has.”

“You are the worst when we play charades,” Lissie replied.

Zoe shrugged and pressed start on the timer. Before I could even begin, Lenny shouted, “Iago! Wait, no, that’s too kind.”

“I haven’t even begun yet.”

“Haven’t you?” Lenny interrupted.

“And Iago is a character.” I crumpled the torn piece of paper into my hand. “Not a movie, book, song, or TV show.” Lenny seethed, silently sipping her drink. Even though Lenny sat on the couch and I was standing up, it felt like we were battling, like the world had fallen away and we were on our own island exchanging blows.

Sometimes I thought it would be better that way, if we fought with fists instead of with words. I’d exchanged punches with men and shared drinks right after. The way Lenny and I fought was so much deeper, so much crueler, and we didn’t share drinks after.

“What drink number is that?” I dared.

“Maybe we should switch up teams!” Zoe exclaimed, throwing tawny arms in the air. “I’m obviously the best. It’s almost cruel to pair me with someone.”

“Wait, wait.” Lissie reached across Lenny on the couch, placing a hand on Zoe’s thigh. “Are you seriously proposing we watch you battle yourself?”

“What are you, my babysitter?” Lenny stood up, violently shucking Lissie’s hand off her waist. There was a stillness in the aftermath as all eyes turned toward us.

Lissie, Zoe, and Grace all exchanged glances. “I have a feeling charades is over,” Grace said.

“At least the game is,” Zoe remarked.

“I really don’t want it to be,” I growled. “But since you’ve been acting like a child…”