A Different Blue(125)

obnoxiously. But I didn't want his sympathy. And I definitely didn't want space. I wanted him. I

didn't want him to kiss my forehead. I wanted to kiss his mouth. I wanted to kiss him with my

hands fisted in his hair and my body wrapped around him. I wanted to confess my feelings and

demonstrate my devotion. And if I didn't leave right that second, I might do something that

would push him away forever. I pulled away almost frantically, afraid of myself, afraid for

myself. Wilson let me go immediately.

“Some people are destined to be alone. Jimmy seemed to be one of those people. Maybe I am too,

whether I like it or not.”

Wilson did not respond as I turned and walked to my work bench. I snagged my keys and headed for

the stairs leading to my apartment. Neither of us offered words of farewell, and the distance

between us was reestablished as if I had never stood in his arms.





Chapter Twenty-Three





I had refused Thanksgiving and Christmas and all the trappings that went with the holidays, but

when Tiffa called and begged me to come to her annual New Year's party and told me her mother

would be watching Alice's boys and Melody somewhere else, I relented. I told myself it had

nothing to do with the fact that she had arranged for Wilson to be my date because Pamela was in

England for the New Year.

[page]I imagined a classy party with a live orchestra and cocktail dress and heels. But Tiffa

surprised me by saying, “Wear something comfortable! And colorful! We have a contest who can

wear the most color, and we Wilsons like our New Year's parties raucous. Don't wear anything

that will show your knickers if you bend over in case we end up playing the brown bag game.

Alice complains about it every year, but it wouldn't be New Year's without it.”

I thought I was colorful enough in hot pink skinny jeans and a spangled bright blue blousy top.

I even had purple feathered earrings in my ears and attached in my hair and glittery eye shadow

and red lips, but Tiffa had me easily beat with tie-dyed leggings, a blinding neon-striped

shirt, high-heeled orange platforms, and a rainbow clown wig. Wilson even got into the spirit of

things with a shirt that wasn't blue, grey, or black. It was a long sleeved v-neck in a soft

pale green. Not very loud, but at least he tried. He wore black jeans and black boots, and

looked very un-professorish.

It wasn't a huge party – maybe thirty people – but everyone seemed to know each other well.

There were ten or twelve other couples, in addition to Tiffa and Jack, Alice and Peter, and

Wilson and me. Most of the others were Tiffa's British associates from The Sheffield. I would

have expected all of them to drink their champagne with their pinkies raised, considering how

proper they sounded in conversation. But they were all quite boisterous and easy-going,

especially after a few drinks.

The night started with a game called Ha Ha Ha – that's what Tiffa called it. Every party-goer

had been given a bracelet, which was made of a roll of stickers in all different colors. The

goal was to make people laugh using a big fake “ha ha ha.” If you were successful in making a

person laugh, that person had to reward you with a kiss and a sticker. If a girl made another

girl laugh, she could give her a sloppy smooch, or choose a boy for that girl to kiss, or vice