Holiday Party

“What?! Are you fuckin’ kidding me?”

“George, I swear to you. I saw it clear as day with my own two eyes.”

“Richard? With a hooker?!” George asked Danny, exhibiting his shock with an overly dramatic facial expression.

“Hey, keep your voice down… I know, I couldn’t believe it myself and I was standing right there watchin’ it.” Danny took a swig of his Stella.

“Well where was it anyway? I mean, where’d you see him?”

George and Danny were whispering to each other in a corner next to the fire place in the very large and spaciously furnished living room that was Rob and Carroll Nelson’s. They were two of the thirty or so guests (which included their own wives and children) in attendance for the Nelson’s holiday party, most of whom (the adults, that is) were either in the living room as George and Danny were, or in the dining room hovering around the large spread of assorted seafood, chicken and pork dishes set out on the long oak wood dining table. Almost all of the guests were jovially conversing, with drinks in hand, about their holiday vacation plans and how much they spent on gifts for their spouses and children. The children of the Nelson’s guests, all ten of them, were split up among the two bedrooms of the Nelson’s son and daughter.

“Coming out of that strip club, I forget the name of it - on 23^rd and 10^th”

“What were you doing outside a strip club on 23^rd street?” George asked, mocking Danny.

“I was waiting for the bus across the street. I’d just had a game at the Sky Rink.”

“Oh man, you still play at the Sky Rink? Why didn’t you tell me, man? I’ve been dyin’ to play some hockey.”

“I thought I did tell you. I could’ve sworn I told you and then you said something about - “

“No man, you -”

“Privilege! That’s what it’s called. He was coming out of Privilege and he had his arm around this little Asian chick in hot pants and they went around the corner into that motel right around the corner. Real seedy looking joint. You’ve seen it, right?” Danny took another long swig of his beer.

“I can’t believe Richard cheats on his wife, with prostitutes at that. Jesus Christ, man.” George said, sounding disturbed and judgmental all at once.

“Wait, you’re saying you never… I mean, I’m not condoning hookers or anything – God no, of course not. But, you’ve really never cheated on your wife? Ever? Not even - like, you know - a hand job or something?” Danny asked sheepishly and then took another swig of his Stella, finishing it off.

There was a slight pause after the question was posed in which George looked at Danny quizzically before he stammered into the words,

“What? I’m sorry, what did you say?”

“Okay, Okay. Hey, forget it. Hey, why don’t you grab a beer or something? You’re a little uptight tonight.”

“What the hell is wrong with you man?! Are you telling me you cheat on Becca?”

George was rather animated at this point and he caught the eyes and ears of two of the party -goers nearby that they happened to not know.

“Would you keep your fucking voice down please?” Danny whispered.

“No, I’m sorry. You gotta be kidding me… you’ve got a fucking family, man.”

“It’s not like it’s on my daily checklist or something. It just happens. It happened; a couple of times. Jesus fuckin Christ! What are you a Mormon now or something?”

Danny was still whispering but only vocally. Even though at this point he was thirty minutes into drunkenness, he noticed that the two of them were attracting some not so subtle glances and glares from all around the room.

“Come on; let’s go out on the terrace.” Danny suggested as he put his right hand on George’s left arm and with his left hand, tilted his bottle toward the clear fiberglass doors behind George that led out to the terrace.

“Yeah, I’ll pass. Besides, you should go find your wife… and your kids too. You know; your family?”

At about that same time in another section of the apartment, there was someone else who had grown frustrated enough with their current company to the point that they were ready to exit, stage left.

****

In the very pink bedroom of Ariel Nelson there were six little girls varying in age from four to seven years old. They had spent the majority of their version of the holiday party playing with six year old Ariel’s two snapping turtles: Raphael and Michelangelo, Guinea pig named Sasha and all the Barbie, Hello Kitty, Little Mermaid and Power Puff Girl dolls and accessories their hearts could possibly desire. That is until Ariel’s big brother Charles and five of his buddies decided to crash the scene, flashing their socks in the girls’ faces, making armpit farts and saying things about their penises that to anyone else wouldn’t make the slightest bit of sense. The girls all screamed for the boys to leave, but of course, the boys didn’t see the fun in that and kept at their antics.

Emma, the youngest of the girls in the room, was so annoyed that she decided she was done with this party altogether. She stood up off of Ariel’s Hello Kitty toy chest very nonchalantly and quietly walked out of the room while the rest of the boys and girls screamed and squealed feverishly. She made a right down the long hall and slowly headed toward the dining room which was the closest place that she could hear adults talking. As she walked she let the fingertips on her right hand drag along behind her and above her head, skimming the wall. Just before she made it out into the foyer she accidentally tilted the lower right corner of a large framed painting in the hallway. Once she felt the frame touch her fingers it startled her and she froze. When she realized she’d moved the painting she started to run until she ran smack into a pair of long legs in grey slacks and felt something cold and wet on top of her head.

“Hey there, Emma. Where ya goin’?”

It was Eileen’s mom and she was holding a little glass with ice in it.

“I’m looking for my mom.” Emma said as she wiped the wetness from her hair.

“Oh yeah? Um, I think I saw your mom in the living… oh… Um… why don’t you go back to Ariel’s room Sweetie, is everything okay in there?”

“Uh huh.”

There were too many grown ups in the foyer blocking the entrance to the kitchen so she went through the dining room where there were only a few less bodies for her to weave through. Once she made her way into the kitchen she couldn’t see all the faces of the bodies around her and she started to feel scared. Long legs in pants and jeans kept brushing up against her, barely noticing she was there. The faces that she could see, she didn’t know, or didn’t know well enough to talk to. Then she heard someone behind her say her name and she turned around before she could register whether or not she recognized the voice.

“Hey Emma, were those boys bothering you in there?” It was Ariel’s mom.

“Yah huh.” Emma answered, feeling a little less scared now.

“Don’t worry about that. I went in there and had a talk with those knuckleheads. It’s safe to go back.” Carroll put her hand on Emma’s head and retracted after feeling the wetness but decided not to mention it.

“No. I’m looking for my mom.”

“Oh ok. You sure you don’t wanna go back and play with the girls?”

“No, I just wanna go home. Do you know where my mom is?”

“Yeah she’s over in the living room… sorry those boys made you wanna leave.”

“It’s okay.” Emma said as she walked away from Carroll.

Emma walked toward the living room as fast as she could without running and without bumping into any grown up’s. For a quick second she saw her mom from a profile angle and it looked as though she was talking to her dad. She moved even faster toward the living room, almost running. Two people called out her name as she made her way through the dining room but she didn’t stop or look. The second person who called her name tried again, the second time significantly louder than the first time.

“Emma! You’re gonna knock somebody down!” Said the voice with no face.

A woman had briefly gotten in the way of Emma’s view of her mother. She was gone after a second but by the time she was, it appeared as though her mother was standing alone and her dad had left. Emma was only a few feet away by then so she decided to run the few remaining steps and once she reached her mom she grabbed at her pant leg.

“Mom, where’d Dad go?”

“Your father’s upstairs, Emma. At home. You know that.” Her mom said in the same voice she used when Emma would ask where she’s supposed to put her dirty socks.

“I thought you were just talking to Dad.” Emma said as if she were also asking herself.

“No Emma. Why aren’t you in the room with the kids?” Her mom picked a drink up off of the mantle by the window (which held at least fifty framed pictures of The Nelsons in all sizes) and took one long sip, then a short one.

“I’m tired, Mommy.” She was still holding on to her mother’s leg.

“Emma…”

“Mommy, I wanna go home.” She was starting to whine.

“Okay Emma, you don’t have to cry.” She said angrily.

“I’m not crying.”

“Come on, I’ll take you upstairs.” She took another sip of the drink, put it down on the coffee table, and started taking slow and calculated steps out of the living room with Emma’s hand in hers.

Just before they made it out of the living room and into the foyer they were stopped. A man who looked slightly familiar to Emma had reached out to grab her mother from behind by the arm.

“You’re leaving? You said you’d be right back.” The man said.

“I’m sorry, I - um, I’ve gotta take my daughter home. It’s getting a little, you know?” She said, smiling.

“Oh, I see,” He looked down at Emma and smiled at her, then looked back up at her mother, “sorry to hear that. I was enjoying our conversation.”

“Yeah I know. I really -” She cleared her throat and took a quick glance at Emma. “Excuse me for just a moment. I’ll be right back, okay? Really.”

She walked Emma out of the living room, through the foyer and out of the apartment into the hallway. She picked her up and held her against her left breast so that Emma’s sleepy head peaked out over her shoulder as she carried her to the elevator. She pressed the up button and rocked her as they waited for the elevator to arrive. When it came she put Emma down but had to hold her up because she had already fallen asleep. She shook her a bit to get her to come to and Emma’s eyes opened but she was far from fully conscience. She started to cry and put her arms out to be picked up again.

“You have to stand up, Honey. Wake up.”

“No. I’m tired.”

The elevator door started to close so Emma’s mom stood up against it and pulled Emma in.

“Listen to me, Honey. I’m gonna send you upstairs by yourself okay? Okay?”

“No, I don’t wanna go.” Her crying became more emphasized though it was still soft being that she was only half awake.

“You’ll be fine Sweetie. I’m gonna press the button for you and you just get off when the door opens. You go to our apartment and ring the bell and Daddy will let you in, okay?” She burped a little and she could smell the alcohol on her own breath. “We live on the tenth floor, right? You know what floor we’re on now? We’re on the third floor, Honey, okay?”

“No. I want you to come with me.” She was whimpering now.

“I can’t Honey but Daddy will be right there as soon as you ring the bell, okay? I’m pressing the button right now, see?”

She pressed the number ten button, bent down and gave Emma a kiss on her lips, assured her one more time that she would be fine and stepped out of the elevator.

*****

The elevator stopped and Emma started to get off when someone stepped in front of her and paused before she got on. She looked hard at her, looked around the elevator and then looked back at Emma who was trying to stop crying but was actually crying even harder than before. Emma looked at the panel of buttons to her left and saw that the number eight was now lit up. The elevator door began to close until the woman put her hand out and pushed it back.

“Where’s your mother, little girl?”

Emma didn’t respond.

“Stop crying, okay? Are you lost? Are you looking for your mother?”

Emma shook her head. She thought the woman looked a little like her grandmother, her Dad’s mom, but without the glasses.

“Okay, then where is your mother? Why are you on this elevator by yourself?” The woman waited for a second. “I just wanna help you, Sweetie.”

“She’s on the third floor.” Her crying had tapered off a little.

“Is that where you live?”

“No. I live on the tenth floor. My dad is there.”

“I’m gonna go with you okay? I just wanna make sure you get home safely. My name is Theresa. You don’t have to tell me your name if you don’t want to, it‘s okay, Sweetie.”

When the elevator stopped at ten the woman got off first and then waited for her companion to exit behind her. Emma led the way to her apartment door and the woman followed closely. Once they were standing in front of the door the woman shook her head in disappointment and looked down at Emma before she rang the bell.

“You can’t even reach this doorbell can you?”

Emma didn’t respond.

The woman rang the doorbell and no more than three seconds later, began to knock, which then turned into banging. Soon they heard the clicking of locks unlocking and Emma could hear her father’s voice but she wasn’t sure what he was saying. When the door finally opened, Emma squeezed by her father and ran as fast as she could to her room. Her father had obviously been sleeping and after he watched Emma run into her room he turned to the woman.

“What the hell is going on here? Where’s Janis?”

“I don’t know whom you’re referring to sir but if this goddamn Janis is the same person who left that little girl on the elevator by herself then someone oughta lock her ass up and throw the goddamn - “

Emma’s dad slammed the door in the woman’s face. She stood there face to face with the door for a moment and listened to him bang on the walls inside the apartment.

*****

When Janis entered her apartment at a little after 2 am that morning, with her high heeled shoes in hand, she had only gotten five or so steps in before she stepped on a hunk of glass. She screamed out an obscenity though the glass barely penetrated the skin of her heel since it was not a sharp edged piece. She turned the light on in the living room, which instantly gave her eyes the sharpest pain and made her head throb. Immediately she turned the light back off but not before noticing that the glass center table they had gotten as a wedding gift eight years ago had been smashed to pieces. She threw her shoes down and walked as quickly as she could, without causing her head any more pain, to her bedroom. She almost made it out of the living room until she stepped on another shard of glass, this time it did pierce her flesh and she yelped at the pain. She knew better than to try and stand on her good foot to pull the glass out so she sat down on the carpet, cross legged, and tended to her wound. It hurt more when she took it out than when it first went in and it hurt even more when she tried to take a step on the injured foot so she walked on her toes instead. When she got to the door of her bedroom it was closed and when she turned the knob it was locked.

“Open this fucking door, now!” she yelled as she leaned against the door, holding her throbbing head.

The door opened and she fell into her husband’s chest as he barely made any attempt to catch her. She sloppily brought herself to her feet and tried to get past him into the room. He pushed her back into the hallway and she stumbled into the wall behind her.

“I just took a piece of our coffee table out of my foot you, asshole. Now let me in the goddamned room.” She said drowsily.

“I want you out.” His voice was stern and even. “You don’t even deserve to stay here. You don’t deserve to live with us.” Had she been sober she would’ve noticed that he was holding back tears.

“Oh Jesus Christ, just save it.”

“That’s your fucking daughter. Our daughter! What the hell is the matter with you?! What kind of a mother would -”

“Oh save it Richard. Please just save it for the morning. I can’t do this right now. My head is killing me.”