Pineapple Street(56)
“George, it’s me, buzz me up.” It was Lena.
“Hey, I’m sleeping.”
“Buzz me up, dude,” Lena insisted. Georgiana sighed and pressed the button, unlocking the front door and leaving it ajar before walking back to her bedroom and climbing into bed. Two minutes later Lena appeared looking impossibly tan and healthy.
“Honey, what’s going on with you?” she asked, peering around in obvious distress. Georgiana searched her room for signs of alarm. It wasn’t like she was living in total squalor; Berta had come and vacuumed while she was at work, but the blinds were drawn, there was an empty box of crackers in her bed, a glass of water had knocked over on the floor and she’d left it there, and the pile of love notes was scattered across her pillow. Georgiana snatched them up and put them in her nightstand.
“I had the stomach flu. It really fucked me up.”
“The stomach flu lasts twenty-four hours. You’ve been MIA for two weeks. You look rough.”
“I had my cousin’s wedding.”
“You had a wedding that lasted for two weeks?”
“Sorry. I just wasn’t up for anything.”
“You’re becoming a hermit, and this is an intervention. Not only are you hurting yourself, but you’re hurting me. Kristin and I are bored with each other and we need your dry wit and slight air of judgment. Now take a shower and get dressed because we’re going to dinner and then Sam’s birthday party.”
“I’ll come to dinner, but I don’t feel like going to a party.”
“We’ll see about that.”
In the shower Georgiana felt a wave of anxiety in her stomach. When she got out she took another half a Valium and then dried her hair and put on makeup.
* * *
—
At dinner Georgiana drank two margaritas and for the first time in weeks a lightness came over her body. She felt the sugar and alcohol thrum through her chest, and she laughed as Kristin told them about the girl from their high school who had fallen in love with an Argentinean polo player and spent all her family’s money on horses. They talked about Lena’s boss’s wife, who had taken out the swimming pool in the bottom floor of their brownstone because she got so sick of lifeguarding playdates for her children seven days a week. Georgiana picked at a salad with slices of mango and licked the salt off the rim of her glass. Her friends asked so little of her. They didn’t need to pry or have her fill the silences, they just made her laugh and told stories and ordered another round of sugary drinks.
They paid the bill and called an Uber and rode to Sam’s apartment, where they fixed their makeup in the mirrored elevator. There were maybe fifty people crowded into the kitchen and living room, and music was blasting and the dining-room table was covered in bottles of wine and booze and mixers. Kristin poured them all tequila and soda—the ice bucket was empty and the bowl of limes had been knocked over—and they melted into the throng. When Georgiana saw Curtis McCoy standing in the doorway to the kitchen, it was like she had known he would be there. A puzzle piece had been missing ever since that night at the Russian dance hall, and now it clicked into place. She strode up to him and, smiling coldly, bumped her plastic cup against his, startling him and sloshing a small amount of his beer on the floor. “Curtis, I’m surprised you’re here. I didn’t realize your strict moral code allowed you to go to birthday parties.”
“Georgiana, hi.” Curtis winced and wiped some of his beer from his sleeve. “I was actually hoping to run into you one of these days.”
“Oh, why? Are you having trouble finding people who will let you shit on them from a great height?”
“Actually, I wanted to apologize. I was in a weird mood and I was uncomfortable in the situation and I took it out on you, and that was wrong.”
Georgiana paused. He looked genuinely distressed. “You were also very rude about my sunglasses,” she said, frowning.
“I’m sorry. They were nice sunglasses,” he said contritely. He looked so guilty and flustered. Georgiana relented.
“I’m just fucking with you. They’re cheesy sunglasses. I borrowed them from my mom.” She laughed.
“Oh, okay.” Curtis smiled uncertainly. He had a lovely mouth, straight white teeth, pillowy lips, a dimple in his chin. People edged past them, moving from the kitchen to the dining room, and Georgiana bumped gently into Curtis’s chest. She put her hand on his shoulder. The room was hot and spinning slightly, and Georgiana leaned forward and kissed Curtis on the lips. He held back at first, but she pushed her mouth into his until he gave and kissed her back.
“Hey, hey, hey, George, what the fuck?” Lena was suddenly at her shoulder. “We’re in the middle of a party.”
Georgiana stumbled back, and her face felt tingly and she realized with a jolt of shame how very drunk she was. She grabbed Lena’s hand and pulled her through the dining room. “I need to go home.”
* * *
—
The next morning she woke awash in self-loathing. Her head ached, her stomach was tender, her memories of the night were patchy and incomplete. She looked down and saw she was still wearing her jeans and blouse. Her hair was in a braid. In the kitchen, the microwave yawned open, the light on, a frozen pizza sitting on its cardboard sleeve, thawed but uncooked.