Authors: Martha Faë
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T
he music is all right, I guess. Fine... it’s way better than all right. I have to admit that they’ve put a lot of effort into this party. I never imagined that Axel moved in these circles. The house is spectacular, way too beautiful for students to be living in it. Huge, with a garden. Antique rugs and furniture all over the place. Nothing like the ramshackle, filthy college apartments of other cities. There isn’t a single poster on the walls, only nicely framed pictures. My eyes move quickly around the room. I would have put these things away for safekeeping before throwing a party. It’s not that I’m thinking about my classmates—I mean, my ex-classmates—from high school. I haven’t quite gotten used to the idea that it’s all over. Anyway, it’s not because of my awful ex-classmates, it’s just plain old common sense. But it’s clear that this is another world. People move with ease, as if they don’t even notice all the expensive things—and of course without putting them in any danger, either. For a while I just stand there, rooted to the spot. It’s for the best—my clumsiness and the good crystal won’t go well together.
Axel was waiting at the corner, as promised. I left the house without even knowing why. It’s not the first time; sometimes my feet have a mind of their own. When I saw him in the distance I wondered what would have happened if I had decided not to go to the party after all. It’s not even like I actually decided. Right after we said goodbye on the beach my mind stopped flipping between green and red. I went back to my towel, next to my book-parents, and got stuck at yellow. The thing is that with a stoplight yellow means something’s going to happen: it’s a warning that it’s about to change to
stop.
But for me yellow just means immobilization. Total brain shutdown. I would say—if I didn’t hate lying to myself—that I’d totally forgotten about the party, and Axel’s smile, and the way our eyes met while we sat at the empty end of the beach. I would say it, but I won’t, because I know it’s not true. I don’t even know what part of my brain, which wire threw the sparks that made me stand up and hurry away from the dinner table. The next thing I remember is seeing Axel in the distance, next to the phone booth. He looked so calm. If I hadn’t come, would he have waited there for me for a while? I suppose so. He sees me, and smiles, and tucks something into the pocket of his jacket. He waves.
And here we are, at the famous party that was supposed to be tiny. I’m beginning to wonder if the concept of a small party might be different for college students. I take note; after all, soon I’ll be a college student, too. Axel seems happy that I’ve come with him. Correction: he isn’t happy, he is
overjoyed
, and the god of misfits knows I don’t use that word lightly. He hasn’t stopped introducing me to people since we got here. I don’t remember a single name; I couldn’t even if I tried. I’ve seen too many faces, too many hands go by. I can’t take my eyes off of Axel. All of my attention has been focused on him for the last half an hour. He knows everyone! And here I thought he was a little odd. Honestly, I was sure he was a freak, but here they adore him. And no, noooo, it’s not that we’re dealing with a whole gang of freaks here. At least not the kind I’m used to. They’re nice, I can’t say that they’re not, but they make me feel so out of place. They all went to school someplace top-notch, that’s clear. Speaking in refined tones about things I don’t even understand. Now that I think about it, I don’t know where the hell I fit in here. As
the
freak of the party, I guess.
“What’s that face for?” Axel asks me quietly, with his perennial smile. He squeezes my hand affectionately. “I hope you don’t feel uncomfortable.”
I’m about to say that I have no reason to feel uncomfortable, but that would tell him that I am. I look at him and keep smiling. I wonder if he really likes me, and my own answer comes as a surprise. It’s clear that he does. You just have to look at him. I don’t understand it, I’ll never like myself... God, now I’m just rambling.
“You’re really not uncomfortable?”
“No.”
“So why won’t you stop fidgeting?”
I say nothing, and just give him the most natural smile I can muster. The umpteenth girl of the night comes over and greets Axel, letting her hand rest on his neck. Does she not see that we’re having a private moment? No, she doesn’t see, or she doesn’t want to see. It seems like it’s not just my parents who act like I’m invisible—it’s the rest of St Andrews, too. Great. I haven’t even started college life and I’m a resounding success. Axel’s fingers keep brushing against my hand. The little princess prattles on, and without thinking twice I take Axel’s hand just to make it totally clear that he’s all mine. Wait, really? Did I just call him
all mine
? Now I really am rambling.
“I’m not going anywhere,” Axel whispers softly to me.
I realize that I’m squeezing his hand much harder than necessary. The little princess has gone. He didn’t introduce me, but there was no need—I didn’t want to meet her, either.
Is he even more handsome than usual, or does it just seem that way to me? Dissie, try not to drool. I look around: so many pretty girls! And the outfits they’re wearing! It’s like we somehow slipped into the pages of a fashion magazine. Axel should have warned me. Here I am in one of my extra-large t-shirts—not like there’s much else in my closet. It’s like night and day: high heels, minidresses, makeup, and me in my jeans and t-shirt. Are they staring at me because of that, or because I’m with him? I guess it’s both: because I’m dressed like this
and
I’m with him. Wait a second, why didn’t he introduce me to the last girl? A million different far-fetched explanations occur to me, none of them good. I drop Axel’s hand and start fidgeting with my fingers again. I shouldn’t have come. Axel puts an arm around me.
“Having a good time?”
I nod and smile.
“I’ve never seen you smile like that.”
Special message for all you harpies: he’s with me. Who could say how long it must have taken the three giggling chatterboxes in front of us to do their hair? Blonde number three thousand walks over, goes up to Axel, and kisses him on the cheek before he even realizes she’s there.
“Hey, handsome,” she says, sounding like a femme fatale.
She walks off before he can even react. Once she’s a little distance away she looks back at him and smiles. Axel waves, his hand moving like a puppet’s. I hate her already.
“Do you want anything to drink?” Axel asks, but before I can answer we’re interrupted again.
“Axel, man! What’s going on?” shouts a guy with shaggy hair who walks toward us with the careless, even gait of a camel.
“Dissie, David,” says Axel, by way of introduction.
“Nice to meet you,” says David, but he only looks at me for half a second. “So how’s the novel going, man?” he asks Axel.
“Well, you know... not too bad, I guess. That’s something, right?”
“It sure is!” David gives Axel a slap on the back.
They both start laughing so loudly that several other guests turn and stare at us.
“I’m so jealous, man!” exclaims David.
“Let’s see if I can finish the draft by the end of the month, and then I can spend the rest of the summer on editing,” says Axel.
“You’re a machine! You already have a first draft?”
What draft? Great, now it’s not just the other guests whose conversations I can’t follow. I have no idea what Axel’s talking about, either.
“Yeah, the draft’s done... Just about, man.”
Axel is strutting like a peacock. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him look so proud. Or happy—is he happy? Suddenly I don’t recognize him. In fact, ever since we got to this party he’s been looking more like a stranger to me. I didn’t know he hung out with this kind of crowd, and I definitely didn’t know he had a draft of anything.
“Well, yours is going better than mine, then,” says David. “I’m blocked, man, I can’t even get my protagonist right...”
“Man,” “man,” “man”—that’s all I understand. What about me? Doesn’t he care whether I want something to drink or not? What about everything he told me yesterday, what he told me just this morning? Axel gestures wildly; he won’t stop talking about things I don’t understand, things that exclude me completely. What novel are they talking about? What draft? Since when does he like literature so much? He let go of my hand the moment he saw his friend. Okay, fine. I guess I should have known how much he likes literature, he made it clear enough at the beach when he knew how my parents had come up with the twins’ names. It’s obvious his friend has written something, or is writing it, right? But it seems like Axel is writing something, too.
I hear raucous laughter coming from the blond girl from earlier, the one with the awful femme fatale voice. She’s done her disappearing kiss on the cheek routine with a few other boys. The three standing next to her right now are about to slip and fall in puddles of their own drool. Not one glass but three—the queen of the party has three different boys offering her a drink. Meanwhile Axel has forgotten me entirely. The girl is shameless. I didn’t even know it was possible to bat your eyelashes like that. She doesn’t care for any of the three drinks being offered to her, no sir. The blonde puts her hand on the waist of a boy passing by. No, she doesn’t just put her hand there, she
poses
it. I realize that she has an elegance I’ll never have, not even if I died and was born again. That’s just how it goes. Now the blonde has lost interest in her three gallant suitors, and instead decided to take the drink right out of the hand of the boy who was walking by. He doesn’t get angry, he just joins the court of drooling admirers.
Axel and his friend go on talking about revisions and plots and I don’t even know what else. They’ve moved so close together that I’m totally left out. Axel has almost turned his back on me, and he doesn’t even realize it, which it turns out is worse than if he’d done it on purpose.
A girl comes over with glasses of all different colors on a tray and I pick one at random, without even bothering to ask what they are. I take a drink and the warm taste of alcohol suggests my next wrong move to me. From experience I know that whenever I decide to do something, it’s inevitably a wrong move that will end in one of three things: a regrettable error, something ridiculous, or both. But I’ve decided, and there’s no going back. I have to learn from the blonde goddess if I want to survive college. That’s my mission. Don’t laugh at yourself, Dissie, you can do it. Don’t take your eyes off her. I’m not going to ask Axel to pay attention to me; it has to be his own idea. It would seem, from watching my new teacher, that that’s the technique.
I pout at nothing even though it makes me feel truly ridiculous. I let my eyes wander a little and see a boy on the other side of the living room watching me. Quickly I look back down at my drink, cringing. Yeah, right, I’m just one step away from mastering the graces of the blond princess... It’s my fault. I never should have tried.
I hadn’t realized that the glasses were actually crystal. The rim of my glass is coated with blue sugar and garnished with a cherry. I pop it in my mouth and then stop, wondering if it was only supposed to be a decoration. Did I just demonstrate how vulgar I am by actually eating it? I miss Marion and Laura so much! They always came with me to the few parties I ever went to. I never thought I’d miss red plastic cups, people sitting on the floor, music so loud you couldn’t even talk. The posters that always had mustaches or some funny saying scrawled on them by the end of the night.
“Excuse me, I don’t believe we’ve met.”
There’s a boy in a tweed jacket standing in front of me.
“I’m Carl.”
“Dissie,” I hold out my hand but tuck it quickly behind my back when I realize my fingers are covered in sugar. “Eurydice,” I explain.
“What a charming name, Dissie.”
The boy takes my arm so he can get to my hand. He kisses my closed fist. I feel sticky sugar between my palm and the tips of my fingers.
“May I call you Dissie?” I nod. “I didn’t want to leave a girl like you all alone. It would be a sin.” I try my best to smile, but I’m not sure I’m pulling it off. “It would be a sin if you believed in sin, I mean.”
The boy lets out a guffaw that sounds like a pig snorting.
“What did you say your name was?” I ask, trying to ignore the nasal echo.
“Carl. What school are you in, beautiful?”
“What?”
Beautiful?
Where did that come from?
“Yes, what department? You know—school, department... Here we call them schools.”
“Oh, I’m starting in Math this year.”
“Interesting. The world is pure mathematics, no matter how much it pains us to admit it.” He traces pretentious circles in the air with the glass of red wine in his hand. “Numbers gave rise to the universe, that’s what some people say. I, on the other hand, think that they were the first sick joke the gods played on us humans. They get bored, you know, they like to see us suffer.” The nasal laughter erupts again, more loudly this time. There’s an uncomfortable silence. “The gods, I mean. Life on Olympus must be pretty boring.”
Carl stares at me while I try to sneak a glance at Axel. It would be nice to know that he was keeping an eye on me. Is he pretending that he doesn’t know me, like he said we could? I know that was only a joke to convince me to come with him. But why does he even want me here? I glance over at his profile and it’s like I’m seeing him for the first time.
“I’m in my last year of post-grad,” Carl’s voice pulls me roughly away from my thoughts. “Theology Department, better known as the School of Divinity—I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”
How is it possible to have such a pompous accent? Carl’s vowels are so round they seem like soap bubbles about to burst.
“Sorry, I got distracted,” I say, shaking my head. I’m feeling a bit dazed.
“I’m a history of religion major. I’m interested in religions as anthropological phenomena, you know? My thesis is on ancient eastern religion, the interrelation between...”
I can’t keep myself from looking over at Axel again, but he doesn’t even know I’m watching him. I guess this just proves what I’ve been afraid of for months now. What I describe to my friends as
the big crash
. That moment when you realize that everything you’ve gone through with someone has been nothing but overtime, not even part of the real game. To avoid the big crashes you have to know how to enjoy things a little bit, but only a little bit. You can’t get too attached, because then you want more and more until one day you’re singing with your arms outstretched and the Ferris wheel screeches to a halt and you go flying... Axel is ignoring me. I think I’m already in mid-air.