The Opposite of Loneliness Essays and Stories(23)

The fact that I had to watch it a third time was almost comical. The approach this time ended up as a complex and detailed imagining of exactly what Danny and Olivia did together offstage. Wishing each other luck before their first entrance. Squeezing hands behind thick black curtains on the side of the theater. Rapidly changing costumes at intermission and catching glimpses of each other’s underwear.

When the show was over, I acted extremely cool. Involving myself in the standing ovation and congratulating Olivia when she came out the side of the theater. I even winked at Danny, which he thought was funny, or pretended to. The cast and crew were hopped up on nostalgia—and the whole thing felt a lot like the last night of camp. We grouped up in cars and headed to the Beachcomber, where the local alcoholics and bad bands were as prominent as promised. I actually got a bit drunk off gin and tonics and Danny must have been listening at the dunes because he paid a lot of attention to me. The morning hovered over all our actions with a kind of euphoria. I decided I hated Cape Cod as much as I hated its summer heroine, and the hours until I could cross back over its metallic bridge ticked down with each exceedingly dizzy hour.

The six of us ended up at Ricky’s just like the night before. Danny, the bearded Noah, the delicate Eric, Olivia, and me. We had to do the whole ordeal with the square penis again, running up the stairs and kneeling before Ricky lumbered up to kick us down. Everything felt very exciting and very immature at the same time and I genuinely fluctuated between resenting my hidden worship of their rural hipsterdom and declaring (internally) that their fun was a little too intentional. Eric forced us into the kitchen, where we were supposed to engage in “slap shots”—a game he insisted was hilarious but involved taking a shot and promptly getting slapped. Ricky didn’t understand and the rest of us were too tired for that kind of thing so we ended up sort of loitering and looking in cabinets.

“Game,” said Noah, opening and shutting the refrigerator for no reason. “Game!”

“Yes!” Olivia agreed. And it was settled. Danny and Noah went to set something up and Ricky pulled Eric out to clear the table and assemble some kind of smoking situation. I went to place my wineglass in the sink but stopped when I realized Olivia was still standing there and we were alone together for the first time. I looked at her.

“Do you want another drink?” she asked, casual.

“No thank you,” I said. Still standing in place. It was silent, awkward.

“Did you like that wine?” she said finally, twisting a ring.

“It was fine.”

“Really? I thought it was kind of sweet.” We looked at each other for a beat and I walked over to the sink to place my glass in its wet bottom.

“Here,” she said, and I placed hers next to mine. It was all very intentional, very clean. And I knew in that instant that Olivia cared deeply about Danny, or she would have left the room. I’d been watching her all weekend but I realized she’d been watching me too. The understanding was empowering.

“You were very good in the play, you know.” We circled. “Your physicality was really spot-on.”

“Thank you,” she said. “Danny told me you used to act.”

“I did, yes. It just wasn’t that fulfilling in the end. I needed something more . . . permanent. That’s not the right word.” We looked at each other again and Olivia’s face broke into a massive smile. The fullest smile I’d seen her make all weekend.

“What?” I’d been going for condescension.

“Nothing. Just—there’s a lot of Danny in you. The way you talk. Your expressions.” For some reason it felt like an insult and I had the desire to smash her face into a wall again. “I mean, you were probably smart to do something else. It’s stupidly hard, especially these days. And let’s be honest, none of us would be up here if we were actually going to make it.” It was a strange thing to say.

“Danny’s going to.” My response was immediate. “I know Danny’s going to.”

I’d surprised her. She looked at me sideways because she could tell that I meant it. “I mean, he’s really talented, don’t you think?”

“Of course,” she said. Still trying to figure me out. “He’s fantastic.”

“Isn’t he?”

I smiled. And it seemed like things were shifting. Danny was on my team all along, he had to be, and looking for proof was not the point. Maybe it was the wine or the exhaustion, but for some reason I believed in Danny in that moment like I’d never believed in him before. I raised my eyebrows and left the kitchen.

When we came out, they were setting up Yahtzee. Eric had taken out the pieces and Ricky was scrambling around for pens. Noah was rolling a spliff.

“You know when I was in Taiwan, those monks I was staying with played this game like all the time where they had these dice and these cups and I never really understood how it all worked but they would bet all this crazy shit, like bags of rice or like chickens,” he said, licking the joint as he rotated it between his fingers.

“Dude, you gotta stop talking about Taiwan. You’re becoming the kid who went to India.” Danny tore off a scorecard and placed it in front of him.

“I didn’t go to India.”

“That’s not the point.” He looked toward Olivia and they shared a smile.