Taken at my friend J’s house in her older sister’s room. I slept over because we had gone to a new year’s party the night before. All my friends except for one, Cassie, were incredibly not sober that night. It was strange, seeing them revert to fully grown toddlers. The party itself was not very fun—just people standing around with mediocre trap music playing, their vape clouds perfuming the air. Even though I don’t drink, I do like going to parties unless there’s bad music and no one’s dancing, and this was both. It’s awkward because the only thing you get to do is corral your friends like a preschool teacher, which makes me feel like a narc, but also running with knives isn’t a good idea (and neither is texting your girlfriend to tell her how horny you are) if you can barely walk straight.
I remember Cassie and I standing by a window to get some respite from the smoke-filled air; J kept running up to us and trying to close it, laughing her ass off each time. Faith, J’s friend, came up to us multiple times, apologizing profusely: “Are you guys sober? I’m soooo sorry omg. That sucks so much.” I know she didn’t mean anything by it, but at the same time it bothered me. Why does being sober suck? Why are you apologizing? This was the choice I wanted to make. It only sucks because this party is lame.
Meanwhile, Abby had gone outside to makeout with a guy and we couldn’t find her. When she finally reappeared, she had a huge purple hickey on her face which we tease her about to this day. We waited outside in a cold drizzle for J’s parents to pick us up (I was supposed to drive but my mom refused to let me take the car because she didn’t want to enable my friends’ drinking). While we were waiting, Abby drank water from a storm drain puddle; we lunged after her to stop but it was too late. Ana pissed on a neighbor’s lawn. In the car, my friends kept drunkenly cracking jokes, much to the amusement of J’s parents.
Lyn stayed up to make food for Abby, and the rest of us went to sleep. Ana accidentally got in bed with J’s grandmother and didn’t realize because they were so drunk.
The next morning at breakfast, J’s mom remarked that I was the most responsible one. I didn’t know how to react. Part of me felt a glow of virtue, the other part felt like a no-fun loser. The responsibility was a burden of anxiety and anorexia I’d been unable to shake my whole life, chronically unable to let go and live like everyone else. I think I wanted to feel good about that comment, but I didn’t. I just felt apprehension.
After we all went home, Abby sent a text to the group chat. “My mom took a look at my face and asked if I got elbowed in the face at the party,” she said. “I said yeah it was really crowded. Then she chuckled and said, ‘it kind of looks like a hickey.’”
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