“Because I want to see it fall apart. Because when this party gets busted—and if it stays this loud, it will get busted—I want to be a witness. From a safe distance away, of course.”
“And you’re saying he’s incapable of loving Stephanie? They’ve been going out for over a year.”
With a silent apology to Stephanie and Steve, I say, “That doesn’t mean anything, does it? I mean, being with someone for over a year can mean that you love them … but it can also mean you’re trapped.”
At first I think I’ve gone too far. I can feel Rhiannon taking in my words, but I don’t know what she’s doing with them. The sound of words as they’re said is always different from the sound they make when they’re heard, because the speaker hears some of the sound from the inside.
Finally, she says, “Speaking from experience?”
It’s laughable to think that Nathan—who, from what I can tell, hasn’t gone on a date since eighth grade—would be speaking from experience. But she doesn’t know him, which means I can be more like me. Not that I’m speaking from experience, either. Just the experience of observing.
“There are many things that can keep you in a relationship,” I say. “Fear of being alone. Fear of disrupting the arrangement of your life. A decision to settle for something that’s okay, because you don’t know if you can get any better. Or maybe there’s the irrational belief that it will get better, even if you know he won’t change.”
“ ‘He’?”
“Yeah.”
“I see.”
At first I don’t understand what she sees—clearly, I was talking about her. Then I get where the pronoun has led her.
“That cool?” I ask, figuring it will make Nathan even less threatening if he’s gay.
“Completely.”
“How about you?” I ask. “Seeing anyone?”
“Yeah,” she says. Then, deadpan, “For over a year.”
“And why are you still together? Fear of being alone? A decision to settle? An irrational belief that he’ll change?”
“Yes. Yes. And yes.”
“So …”
“But he can also be incredibly sweet. And I know that, deep down, I mean the world to him.”
“Deep down? That sounds like settling to me. You shouldn’t have to venture deep down in order to get to love.”
“Let’s switch the topic, okay? This isn’t a good party topic. I liked it more when you were singing to me.”
I’m about to make reference to another song we heard on our car ride—hoping that maybe it’ll bring her back in some way—when Justin’s voice comes from over my shoulder, asking, “So who’s this?” If he was relaxed when I saw him in the kitchen, now he’s annoyed.
“Don’t worry, Justin,” Rhiannon says. “He’s gay.”
“Yeah, I can tell from the way he’s dressed. What are you doing here?”
“Nathan, this is Justin, my boyfriend. Justin, this is Nathan.”
I say hi. He doesn’t respond.
“You seen Stephanie?” he asks Rhiannon. “Steve’s looking for her. I think they’re at it again.”
“Maybe she went to the basement.”
“Nah. They’re dancing in the basement.”
Rhiannon likes this news, I can tell.