Chapter 7: The Party

“At last, I met a pretty girl, she laughed and talked with me. We both walked out of the kitchen and danced in a new way.” - You’ll Always Find Me in the Kitchen at Parties (Jona Lewis)

I jolted awake, my heart racing and my sheets damp with sweat. That dream was a stark reminder that, no matter how much I tried to distract myself, the reality of my situation was never far away.

The sun was high in the sky, casting a harsh light into my room. I glanced at the clock and realized with a start that it was almost noon. I rarely slept so late, especially with the anxiety that often kept me up at night. But the emotional and physical exhaustion from the previous days had finally caught up with me.

With a sigh, I rolled out of bed and made my way to the shower. The hot water washed away the last vestiges of sleep, leaving me feeling both revitalized and apprehensive. I knew the party was tonight, and the thought of facing a room full of strangers was like a looming storm cloud on the horizon. I tried to focus on the preparations, the mundane tasks that could occupy my mind and keep the nerves at bay.

After showering, I carefully selected my outfit—a navy blue button-up shirt and tailored black pants. Rebecca had insisted that I buy them, and I had to admit that the clothes she had picked out made me feel more presentable than I had in a long time. As I dressed, I went through the mental checklist she had given me—make sure your shirt is tucked in, the buttons are all fastened, and your shoes are shined. Each step felt like I was donning an armor for the social battlefield that awaited.

The rest of the day was a blur of last-minute preparations and a cacophony of nerves. I practiced my mingling skills in the mirror, trying to perfect the balance between confidence and approachability. The reflection staring back at me was unfamiliar—a person trying to be something they weren’t, desperate for a taste of the life they had always envied but never fully understood. Yet, with each practice smile and nod, I felt a flicker of hope that maybe, just maybe, I could pull this off.

After much deliberation, I sat down and wrote a heartfelt note to Rebecca. The words flowed easily onto the page, a testament to the profound impact she had had on me in such a short time. I expressed my gratitude for her friendship, her guidance, and the warmth she had brought into my cold world. I folded the paper carefully and placed it inside the shopping bag with the dress I had bought for her, a small token of thanks for her unwavering support.

Delivering the gift was a nerve-wracking affair. My hand trembled as I approached her apartment, the bag feeling heavier with each step. When she answered the door, she looked surprised to see me, her eyes lighting up at the sight of the bag. “What’s this?” she asked, her voice filled with curiosity.

“It’s just a little something I picked up,” I said, trying to play it cool. “A small token of my appreciation for all your help.”

Rebecca took the bag, her eyes wide with surprise. “Martin, you shouldn’t have,” she protested, her voice wavering. But I could see the excitement in her eyes as she peeked inside.

“It’s nothing,” I said, trying to play it cool despite the racing of my heart. “Just something to say thank you for everything.”

Rebecca’s eyes grew even wider when she pulled out the dress. She held it up to her body, the fabric shimmering in the soft glow of her apartment lights. “How did you know I’ve had my eyes on this dress?” she whispered, her voice filled with genuine astonishment.

“I noticed you looking at it during our shopping trip,” I said with a small smile. “Besides, it’s your favorite color.”

Rebecca’s cheeks flushed pink, and she looked down at the dress with a mix of disbelief and gratitude. “But it’s so expensive,” she protested. “You don’t have to do this, Martin.”

“You’re worth it,” I said firmly. “And I have more than enough to spare. It’s not as I will need money when I’m dead. Besides, I’d rather see that dress on you than collecting dust in some store.”

Her protests faded into a soft “Thank you,” and she stepped closer to give me a hug, the fabric of the dress brushing against my arm. It was a simple gesture, but it filled me with a warmth that I hadn’t felt in a long time. I knew that I had made a difference in her life, and she had certainly made one in mine.

The final hours before the party were spent in a flurry of activity. I meticulously trimmed my facial hair, ensuring each whisker was in place. I applied a bit of cologne, the scent of which reminded me of my father—a small comfort in a world that felt increasingly foreign. With a deep breath, I donned the new outfit and studied my reflection in the mirror. The man staring back at me was a far cry from the introverted teenager who had once cowered in the corner at school functions.

As I stepped into the taxi, the leather seats were cold, and the scent of stale air freshener filled my nose. The driver, a burly man with a thick accent, asked for the address. I recited it, my voice sounding foreign in the confined space. The journey to Linda’s felt like an eternity, each streetlight we passed by bringing me closer to the moment of truth.

The taxi pulled up in front of a monolithic structure, its grandeur illuminated by the soft glow of the street lamps. It was a house that could have easily been mistaken for a mansion, with sprawling lawns and a long, winding driveway lined with cars. The sound of music and laughter drifted out into the night, hinting at the revelry within. I took a deep breath, trying to steady the tremor in my hands.

“This is it,” the driver announced, his voice a gruff interruption to my thoughts. I nodded, handing him the fare. As the car pulled away, I took a moment to compose myself, the heady mix of excitement and nerves coursing through my veins. This was it—the social gauntlet that I had been preparing for.

Walking up the stone pathway to the house, I couldn’t help but feel like an imposter. The laughter and music grew louder with each step, and I tried to channel the confidence that Rebecca had coached into me. The front door was open, revealing a bustling scene of people mingling in the grand foyer, their conversations a cacophony that echoed through the high ceilings. The house was a maze of luxury, with plush carpets and gleaming chandeliers. It was a stark contrast to the small, sparse apartment I had grown accustomed to.

The pool area was a spectacle of flashing lights and vibrant colors. The water glowed with floating LED lights, casting an ethereal glow on the faces of the partygoers. The air was thick with the scent of chlorine and the sweetness of tropical cocktails. Groups of people huddled around the edges of the pool, sipping drinks and sharing stories, their laughter bubbling up like the spa jets nearby. In the center, a few brave souls danced on a floating platform, their movements synchronized to the pulsating beat of the music.

As I approached the edge of the pool, I was greeted by a cacophony of greetings and names that I knew I would never remember. Each handshake and smile felt forced, as if we were all actors in a play we hadn’t rehearsed for. Yet amidst the chaos, I found myself searching for a familiar face—Rebecca. She had promised to help me navigate this social labyrinth, but she was nowhere to be seen.

Just as I was about to retreat to the safety of the sidelines, a figure emerged from the crowd, her laughter ringing out above the din. Linda, the hostess herself, was making her way towards me, her eyes lighting up with recognition. “Martin!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around me in a warm embrace. “I’m so happy you could make it!”

Her words were a balm to my soul, easing the tension that had coiled in my chest. I returned the hug awkwardly, unused to such spontaneous displays of affection. “Thanks for having me,” I managed to say, my voice sounding strained even to my own ears.

“Oh, don’t be so formal,” she chided, her laughter tinkling like wind chimes. “You know how it is—my parents are out of town, and the house is all mine. It’s the perfect excuse to throw a party.” She winked conspiratorially, and I couldn’t help but smile at the mischief in her eyes. Linda Handed me a glass with some kind of orange colored drink.

As Linda disappeared back into the throng of guests, I took a deep breath and stepped closer to the pool. The water rippled, reflecting the neon lights, and the conversations around me grew louder. I hovered at the periphery, nodding along to snippets of chatter that I didn’t quite understand, my own voice muted by the thump of bass from the speakers.

The air was electric with the promise of fun, but it was a language I hadn’t quite mastered. Each smile I offered felt like a gamble, a hope that it would be returned in kind. I clutched my drink, the condensation beading on my fingertips, and scanned the room for a conversational lifeline.

Just when I was about to give up and find a quiet corner to hide in, a beam of light parted the crowd, and there she was—Rebecca. She looked like a vision in the dress I had given her, the navy blue hugging her curves in all the right places. Her hair fell in soft waves around her shoulders, and her eyes sparkled with the excitement of the evening. She saw me and her face lit up with genuine happiness.

“You made it,” she said, her voice a melody above the din of the party. She stepped closer, placing a hand on my shoulder. “You look amazing.”

Her words were like a shot of adrenaline, bolstering my fragile confidence. “Thanks,” I murmured, feeling the heat rise in my cheeks. “Your dress is ... wow.”

Rebecca’s smile grew even brighter at the compliment. “Ready to tackle this party?” she asked, her eyes gleaming with excitement.

With a nod, I allowed her to lead me through the throng of bodies. She was like a social ninja, navigating the crowded poolside with ease. Each person she introduced me to was met with a gentle nudge and a whispered, “This is my friend Martin,” followed by a quick summary of who they were and how they fit into her life. The names and faces swirled around me like a kaleidoscope, but with each introduction, I felt a little less like an outsider.

And then, she brought me to Vera. Vera was a friend of a friend, a tall, lanky girl with a contagious laugh and a penchant for wearing oversized sweaters. Her hair was a wild tapestry of colors, and she had the kind of smile that made you feel like you’ve known her for years. We ended up in the sofa area, slightly removed from the chaos of the party. The cushions were plush and warm, inviting us into a bubble of comfort amidst the noise.

As we settled in, I found myself at a loss for words. The conversations around us flowed freely, but the silence between us grew heavier. Panic set in, and I scoured my brain for something—anything—to say. “Uh, have you seen ‘It Happened in the Future’?” I blurted out, hoping the mention of the movie might spark some shared interest.

Vera’s eyes lit up, and she leaned in closer. “Oh my god, yes!” she exclaimed, her voice a breath of relief in the quiet. “I absolutely adored it. The way they wove the romance into the sci-fi plot was so refreshing!”

We dove into a passionate discussion about the film’s unexpected twists and turns. Her enthusiasm was infectious, and soon, I found myself speaking more freely than I had in years. We debated the symbolism of the time travel device and laughed at the awkwardness of the protagonist’s first kiss. It was as if the walls of the grand house had melted away, leaving just the two of us in a cozy bubble of shared interests.