A Perfect Night

“Oh!” Followed by a crash as pieces scatter across the table and floor. I wince, clutching my cup against the sudden loud noise. Everyone else clustered around the table throws their arms up as Travis jumps up. “Mystery shot!” he announces over the blasting pop music coming from the TV mounted to the wall behind him.

Mirel walks over. “Who did it?” They ask. Travis points at Josh. “Coming right up.” Mirel disappears into the kitchen.

“Should someone supervise?” Kira asks from where she lays on the couch opposite me. I get up and wave off any further comment as I walk around the couch and follow Mirel into the kitchen.

“Need a refill?” they ask, rifling through the fridge. I look at the assortment on the counter with a raised eyebrow.

“No…just here to make sure no one ends up in the hospital tonight.”

“I’m not making them too strong.” They protest.

“It’s not that.” I say pointedly, picking up a bag of coffee grounds and a bottle of ketchup. “Some things don’t go in shots.”

“It won’t curdle this time.”

“Mirel…” I warn. “Go easy.”

“Alright, alright, I will.” They hug me quickly. “Go on.”

I move out of the kitchen, in the direction of the living room, but once out of sight, I step to the side and make my way to my room instead, nudging the door closed behind me. I set my drink on my desk and snatch a fluffy pillow from my bed, curling up with it clutched to my chest atop the covers. I stare at the starry sky through the window with a sigh.

The perfect night in college, right? Friends, games, music, drinks. A party. Everyone’s having fun…except me. Movie theater perfection. But there’s still a hole inside, an all-consuming darkness that I don’t know at all how to deal with.

I know they’re sick of me always feeling like this, so now I just keep it quiet. Keep my distance. Always smile and say I’m fine. Step out when I just can’t take it anymore. They won’t notice my absence for several hours yet. Won’t come looking. I squeeze the pillow tighter, my gaze tracing over the pictures scattered across my walls. Looks like a happy life. So where did I go wrong? Why can’t I feel the happiness I should? Am I just ungrateful? Am I broken?

Hot liquid runs down my cheek, but I don’t move. Moving seems heavy. Breathing seems weighted, too important to tackle. If all I do is fail, then why bother trying anymore?

All the things I can never say out loud run in circles through my mind as my friends chatter loudly in the room next to mine. Laughter drifts in through the window, too, other groups of friends dressed up and on their way to the bar down the street. We’ll be joining them soon. Or…everyone else will. Maybe I’ll just say I’m tired. I won’t have to explain more than that. They’ll be too busy getting out the door to interrogate me.

How many people spend their lives wishing and waiting for moments like these? And here I am, with everything they want, and I’m hiding from it.

Guilt gnawing at my stomach, I slip off the bed and straighten my crop top. I step into the bathroom and touch up my eye shadow and lipstick, fix my necklace, rotate my earrings so the design lines up just right. I grab my leather jacket and slip on my heeled boots over my leggings. I check my appearance one last time in the mirror, avoiding the eyes of the girl looking back at me. If I don’t look at her eyes, she looks like a happy college kid ready for a night of fun.

I put a smile on my face and walk over to my bedroom door, hand resting on the handle for a moment. Once my internal battle ends, I pick up my drink, drain it in one gulp, and open the door.