“You okay?” Siobhán asked that evening in the yard. It was almost twilight, the days getting shorter. And then in a lower voice, she asked, “Do the supplements still make you feel sick?”
“No, we stopped all that,” she said lightly, as if she hadn’t owed her friend that news for a whole year by then. She spun her car key on her finger and pretended not to notice how closely Siobhán was looking at her. She let herself into the house, lined the shoes along the floor. When Siobhán joined her she described which ones were most comfortable, which were best for dancing, all the while keeping track of where exactly Neil was standing in Siobhán’s yard.
“Jessie,” Siobhán said, her eyes soft with concern. “Want a quick glass of wine? The kids won’t bother us for at least twenty minutes.” She held up a bottle of Sancerre she knew Jess liked.
Jess was tempted. Staying meant the men would come in, maybe. Maybe join them. She’d get to see him, sit near him.
“Or a cup of tea? It’s been a long time since we’ve hung out just the two of us,” Siobhán added. “Come on.”
“I wish I could, Bon-Bon,” Jess said. “But I have to go.”
“Malcolm’s at work!”
“My mother. I’m taking her to dinner.”
“You’re acting kind of odd.”
“I know.”
“What’s up?”
“Nothing. I don’t know.”
“Okay. But soon, please? I feel like we haven’t had a good chat in a long time.”
She called out a goodbye to Patrick and Neil as she all but jogged to her car. As soon as she drove around the corner, out of their line of sight, she pulled over and parked, tried to make her body stop trembling. Nothing happened. You stopped by your friend’s house. You dropped off shoes. Nothing happened. But she couldn’t make her bones hear a different tune.
She was sure she’d get a text, but nothing came. When she was invited to a party where she assumed he’d be, she declined.
* * *
She saw him here and there over the next few months, but always kept the conversations light and quick. It was good to see him but she was on her way somewhere. Dr. Hanley was starting to help a little. The Half Moon’s balance sheet made gentle swings back and forth between red and black each month, but never too widely, never too far. Jess started to wonder if maybe it was possible to dance at the edge of a precipice and keep dancing for the rest of your life. By the time they got their invitation to Amanda and Toby’s annual New Year’s party, she told herself that she was cured of whatever feeling had come over her the previous summer. Hormones. Grief. Boredom. The growing sense that life was passing her by and if she didn’t do something she’d leave nothing behind to prove she was even there.
Malcolm always said that New Year’s was the one night a year when normal people turn completely feral, so he wanted to be at the bar. He’d hired a DJ, had cleared out the low-tops. He sold tickets in advance and would sell more at the door. The cops would be all over town, giving Breathalyzers. He suggested their friends have New Year’s at the Half Moon but they didn’t want to, the crowd would be too young there, they said, the music too loud. Jess knew he’d never push the idea on anyone, so he didn’t ask twice. Between just the two of them, they compromised. They’d both go over to Toby’s for a while, and then when the time came for Malcolm to head to the bar, Jess could either go with him or stay at the party.
“I really will be working though,” he warned her. “You might want to rope a few people into coming to hang out.” But Jess knew no one would want to change locations, not if they were having fun.
Neil was the first person Jess saw when she walked into Amanda and Toby’s kitchen. He was leaning against the counter with his arms folded across his chest, and she saw his eyes jump from her to Malcolm and then back to his conversation in one split second. Malcolm walked right up to him and shook his hand. Jess followed and he said hello to her, kissed her cheek just like he would any other woman on New Year’s Eve. Every conversation Jess had, every circle she stood in, she knew where Neil was and she knew where Malcolm was, without even looking. Malcolm kept stepping outside to call the bar, and every time he returned Jess expected him to say he was leaving, but he stayed. Toby’s daughter came stomping up from the basement in a swivet about how the kids were supposed to know when it was midnight since there was no TV downstairs.
And then the power went out. Someone shouted at Toby in the dark, asked if he’d paid his electric. Everyone laughed. It was only around ten o’clock. Malcolm made for the porch to call the bar, to find out if the power outage was all over town. The rest of them held perfectly still, afraid to bang a leg against a chair, afraid to bump against someone’s glass, and then she felt it: a hand pushing aside her hair, the warm press of a kiss on her neck. She was so surprised that she barely registered it in the moment, but after, a minute after and a week, she conjured up that press and release over and over and over, his breath on her skin.
“You look pale,” Malcolm said when the lights came back on.
“Just tired,” she said. Used to be that every time she said she was tired, they both wondered if she was pregnant.
Malcolm blew a party horn, and the thin plastic unfurled by her ear. “Party pooper,” he said. “I guess that means you won’t come to the bar.”
“No,” she said. “But will you drop me at home on your way?”
“You’re sure? I could give you Hugh’s old throne. Free cocktails all night?”
“But then I’ll be stuck there until closing.”
“I’ll call you a cab!”
“Nah,” she said. “It’ll be impossible to get one tonight. Home, please.”
“Heading out?” Neil asked a moment later, appearing in the doorway of the spare bedroom where everyone tossed their coats. “It’s so early.” Malcolm was still making his way around the living room, saying his goodbyes.
“Yes,” Jess said, without looking at him. She pretended to search for something in her purse. The sound of glass shattering came from the other room, a scurry for a broom and dustpan, peals of laughter.
“Hey I’m sorry about that,” he said. “Before, I mean. I just…”
He took a step and staggered. He held the back of a chair to steady himself.
Oh, Jess thought. There you go.
“I’d like to talk to you,” he said.
“Neil,” she said, and they locked eyes.
“All set?” Malcolm came up behind Neil and clapped him on the back one final time. Neil wished them goodnight, returned to the party, to the endless circling about of stories and old jokes and drinks poured with a heavy hand as the night wore on. Amanda was handing out beaded necklaces and plastic glasses with frames that made the numbers 2018. Out on Toby’s porch, Jess pulled the collar of her coat tight and looked up at Malcolm, caught a frown pass across his face. He patted his jacket pockets as if searching for something.
“What?” Jess asked.
“I don’t know,” Malcolm said. “I just got the weirdest feeling.”
* * *
She kept going over it. She kept putting her hand to the place on her neck. What a prude she was turning out to be. Everyone knew boundaries shifted on New Year’s. He’d had too much to drink.