My Former Self (7 page)

He notices the look. “Hey, kiddo, let me take over.”

“Naah, it’s okay. Besides, Mom would flip if she saw you doing my dishes.”

“I can deal with Sharon; now scoot,” he says as he bumps my hip, moving me out of the way.

I snicker at Sandy. “See ya, Sandy.”

She glowers.

It’s close to nine when we head over to the campfire. My parents and Jack stay back, even though there will be adults there. They said they want us to have fun without us feeling like they’re watching us. I have to say I am pretty excited about going, and I’ve heard that a lot of people will be attending.

It’s about a five-minute walk. When we are just about there, Sandy sees her friends and she runs off to meet them. I look around for Alyssa. She is talking to a bunch a people I don’t know. She introduces me. One of the guys says he has pot and that they are going for a walk to smoke it. Alyssa asks me if I want to come along, and because I don’t want to be left alone, I agree.

Once we get to a secluded area, Grant pulls out his joint and lights it. He passes it around, and I am surprised to see Alyssa take a drag. Then she passes it to me. I have never smoked pot before, so I am a little hesitant. I take a small toke and I don’t inhale. Grant says I have to if I want to feel anything. I try again and inhale this time. He tells me to hold it in my lungs as long as I can before letting it out. I do, but I feel no different.
It goes around again from a guy named Elliot to Grant to Alyssa to me. I still don’t really feel anything and I am not sure what the big deal about marijuana is. Elliot has a bottle of vermouth that he took from his parents, which gets passed around too. I like the sweet taste of it better than the joint.

We stay around there until the bugs get too annoying, and then we head back to the campfire where most people are. I see Sandy with the same friends she was with earlier, but I can’t see Jeremy.

“Sandy, have you seen Jer?” I ask her.

“No. Where have you been? And what’s with your eyes?” I guess I was gone longer than I thought, and that the joint has affected me in another way.

“Oh, we went for a walk. The campfire was so smoky; it was bothering me.” Good cover, I think. “We should head back in a little while. It’s almost eleven.” If Mom and Dad are up, they’ll have questions for us, so maybe it’s actually in my best interest to go later and face the consequences of bringing Sandy home late.

“Can’t we stay a little bit longer? Everyone is here,” she pleads.

“Okay, no more than half an hour, though.” I figure Mom and Dad should be in bed by then.

I go back to Alyssa, but she is much too interested in Grant. They are now holding hands, making it awkward for Elliot and me. Elliot keeps looking at me, like he wants to do the same thing, but I am anything but interested in him. He seems boring, and his nostrils are way too big for his face. If Amanda were here, she would have made some hilarious comments about the objects he breathes in during the course of a day. The thought of Amanda makes me a little despondent. I wish she were here with me. I wonder how she is doing, if Dan called her, or if she’s sent me a letter. I will check the mail tomorrow.

I set off to find Jeremy myself, since Alyssa is preoccupied. Elliot looks as though he wants to join me, so I say that I’ll be right back, having no intention of doing so. I don’t want to go too far from the campfire since Sandy is there. I walk down a few different paths which all lead to the beach. Maybe he is smoking a joint like I was earlier. It’s unlike him to leave us like that. I turn down another path, which is a little more wooded than the previous paths. I hear rustling in the bushes and think there might be an animal or something. As I get closer to it, I see Jeremy’s sandals. I go closer but then realize he is not alone. He is with a girl, and I assume that it is Tina, though I can’t really be sure. Her face is blocked because Jeremy is making out with her. My eyes widen, and I step back, breaking branches as I go. They hear me and stop kissing—and whatever else
they’re doing. I retreat quickly, but I know that Jeremy has seen me. I can hear them talking as I make my way back to the fire. Shortly after, Jeremy comes up.

“You ready to go?” He says it matter-of-factly, without saying anything about what I just saw.

Winter 2010

T
he holiday season always gives me a peculiar feeling that I can’t quite explain. I remember loving Christmas as a child, as I suppose all children do. I loved decorating the tree as a family, singing Christmas carols, exchanging secret Santa gifts with the class, and eating all kinds of candy and chocolate. Now, I don’t have a tree in my apartment, I don’t sing, we rarely exchange gifts at work, and I have been trying to keep my calorie intake to no more than sixteen hundred a day, which doesn’t allow for candy or chocolate. Maybe the peculiar feeling is sadness. I wonder why we lie to our kids about Santa, and tell them that if they’re good, they’ll get more gifts. Isn’t that the first rule of parenting: don’t
bribe? We train kids to believe that this time of year is magical. When we grow up, we realize the truth: there is nothing magical about it.

Tonight is our staff party, to which I agreed to go, solo. Dr. Roerke is also going alone, as he and his wife recently separated. This news came as a bit of a shock to me, and thinking back to it, I am sure this is what Patrick and Deb were whispering about a few weeks ago. Dr. Roerke’s wife was always pleasant, and they seemed to have a good relationship. But that just goes to show that appearance is often different from reality.

Cindy asked if we’d mind if she brought a friend, one of her girlfriends from university who is in town for the weekend. Of course no one minded. Deb and her husband are coming. I think they look forward to going anywhere without the kids. They are actually making a date out of it and going to dinner before the party. Deb invited us all to join them, but we all know that they don’t get a babysitter too often. Patrick was seeing a girl but for unknown reasons they broke up, so he too will be going single.

I’m not really sure what to wear to this thing. Cindy will be wearing something too short or too tight, or both. Deb will pick something from her closet that has probably been there for years but only gets worn on special occasions. After perusing my closet, I decide on black jeans and a grey turtleneck. I know I might be a
little hot in this sweater, but I don’t intend on dancing, so I should be fine.

We all meet at nine thirty at Club Noir. It’s a nice bistro-type bar that is very dark inside, which makes me feel at ease. Cindy and her friend, Nicole, start with shots. I shouldn’t really say start, since it looks as if they’ve had a few before we arrived. They order enough for all of us, but Deb’s husband, Bud, and I don’t take one. I sip my white wine to show them that I am having a drink.

The night continues this way for a while—a lot of laughs and flirting. Dr. Roerke can’t keep his eyes off Cindy, who is quite inebriated by this point. She has her arms around both Patrick and Dr. Roerke and is laughing about God knows what. Her friend is also pretty drunk, and she and Deb have gone to the dance floor, leaving me with Bud. He is a nice enough guy, but we really don’t have anything in common.

He tries to start a conversation. “How is your apartment?” God, of all the things he could bring up, he picks the most boring and conventional topic. I guess I shouldn’t really complain, though, at least he is making an effort.

“Oh it’s good. I love the area and my neighbours are friendly.” There is not too much more to say about it. I am now racking my brain for anything to talk about.
Kids—parents love talking about their kids. “So how old are the kids now?”

“Kris is nine, Katie is five, and Kyle is three and a half.”

I hate that the names all begin with the same letter. I don’t know why, it just irks me. “Do they get along?” I think back to when I was young, and I remember fighting with my siblings, even though the next minute we were the best of friends.

“Yeah, they’re great. Really good kids.”

Bud’s not much of a conversationalist, and frankly, neither am I. We continue to drink and watch the others on the dance floor. Several times Deb tries to get us up dancing, and each time we decline. We prefer the uncomfortable silence here than the awkward dancing there.

I notice Dr. Roerke and Cindy talking off to the side of the dance floor and it appears to be pretty intimate. He places his hand on her hip, which if it goes any lower will be on her butt. She is smiling and obviously enjoying the attention. I wonder what they are talking about—bicuspids and wisdom teeth? I think not. I wonder, now that Dr. Roerke and his wife have broken up, if anything would ever happen between these two. Although there are about twenty-five years between
them, they have openly flirted with each other for as long as she’s been at the office. I think that a night like this, with drinks and dancing, could definitely encourage a rendezvous.

“Excuse me. Do you mind if I sit down here?” I am so intent on watching the others that I didn’t even see this guy coming. Who picks up a girl in a bar anymore? It just seems so cliché.

“My friends are on the dance floor. They’ll be back.”

“Do you mind if I sit until they do?” This guy doesn’t get the hint.

“No, I guess not.” I look at Bud for some help here but he has now kind of moved his chair to face the dance floor rather than talk to me. I can’t say I blame him.

He sits down and introduces himself. His name is Cort, short for Cortney. He looks to be much older than I, but he is sort of good-looking, I suppose. He is wearing jeans with a blue dress shirt. He tells me that he works as a financial advisor for the Bank of Canada. We talk briefly; the conversation flows much easier than when talking to Bud, which is either because of Cort or the wine. Deb comes back and tries to get us both up on the dance floor. He looks at me with a look that says “shall we?” I decide to show everyone that I can have
fun, or at least make an effort. Hopefully they’ll leave me alone after this.

I used to go to dances in high school, but that feels like a lifetime ago. We move to the rhythm of a song that I don’t know, and he actually moves pretty well, better than a lot of guys I have seen dance. We stay up for a few songs and I notice Deb raising her eyebrows to me. I pretend that I don’t see her.

I look at my watch and realize that it’s almost one, far later than I thought I’d be out. I’ve had quite a few glasses of wine, and I don’t even remember paying for them; Cort must have been footing the bill. We go up for another dance, and I have to admit that I’m actually enjoying myself. Whoever said that alcohol makes things more fun was right on the money. There’s no way I’d be out past one dancing on a Friday night without it.

As we move to the music, I feel Cort’s hands on my hips. I didn’t notice it at first, but now that is all I can feel. I’m aware of their cumbersome weight restricting my movement. He’s looking at me as though he is going to pounce on me, like a tiger in the wild. I immediately react and push him away from me, looking at him in disgust.

“Get your fucking hands off me,” I yell, loud enough for those around us on the dance floor to hear, including
Deb and Bud, who has been coerced onto the floor. Cort looks shocked, and I realize that I’ve overreacted. I grab my bag and leave the bar. I run out onto the street and get into a cab that’s waiting by the sidewalk. As it pulls away, I see Cort come out of the bar, looking for me.