Chapter 2: Old Friends

Like all couples, Mike and I fight. When you have two opposing natures in a relationship, one driven by emotions and one by logic, those fights can get heated sometimes as the conflicting personalities collide.

Mike wanted to go to a friend’s party that we had on our calendar for a few months. A long-time friend of his on the other side of the city, some birthday thing. I had just worked a twelve-hour shift, the fifth in a row due to staffing shortages and I wanted to just crash at his place, Door Dash some Chinese food, watch a dumb Netflix series, and curl up on the couch in sweatpants and snuggle with him. We’d already been sniping at each other all week about stupid little things and my long work hours did not help the situation. The argument escalated in the living room while I was still in my pajamas.

“It’s a party, Beth. People. Music. Life. Not another night of you scrolling on your phone and going to sleep at 9.”

I snapped back that maybe if he paid attention to me instead of his phone with his boss for the last two hours I had been there, I wouldn’t feel like staying home. Words got mean. I accused him of caring more about looking for fun in front of his friends than about us. He accused me of being emotional and having lost all interest in anything outside of work since I took on the new position and longer hours. Eventually I threw my hands up.

“Fine. I’ll go. But I’m not staying late, and if you get shitfaced I’m leaving without you.”

He softened immediately, kissed my forehead, said he’d be good. I didn’t believe him, but I was too tired to keep fighting.

I went to his bedroom where I had taken up half his closet even though I did not live there and pulled out a little black dress that hugged my small frame, stopped mid-thigh, low in the back. I almost never wore it because it made me feel too exposed. Matching black lace panties, no bra ... the dress didn’t allow one. Simple short heels because if I was going, I was not going to be miserable with my feet hurting all night. I put on some jewelry and a touch of mascara and lip gloss. When I walked out he smiled and whistled low like he’d won something.

“You look gorgeous,” he said, and kissed the corner of my mouth.

I almost believed the night would be fine.

“Jesus, baby. You’re going to kill me looking like that,” he exclaimed and gave my butt a gentle pat and squeeze.

I forced a smile. “Let’s just go before I change my mind.”

After forty-five minutes driving through city traffic and slow streets we arrived at the old two-story Victorian house where the party was already loud and in full swing when we arrived. Mike dropped me off and I waited by the street while he went in search of the ever-elusive parking space on a Friday night in the city. By the time he got back to me and admonished me for waiting outside, “wearing almost nothing” I was shaking cold and my temper had returned.