"My Heartstrings Come Undone"

Last night was probably one of the worst nights that I have had in a long time. It started out innocently enough, with a missed phone call. I was home late last night from work, because I had to run up to the local Wal-Mart for some bread and other necessities. When I returned, there was a small message written on a post-it that said “Call Mel”.


Well, I called Mel, and got her voice mail and left her a message. Then I called Nikki because we had decided that we would keep each other company since Melanie was busy with her boyfriend on leave from Iraq. Nikki informed me that Mel had also called her and that we were to get over to her house A.S.A.P.


Now, usually every Monday is movie night for our small group, and I just assumed that we would be sitting around watching a movie. I was tempted to try to call Mel again to see if she wanted me to bring a DVD, but I figured that if she called, they probably had something in mind.


When I arrived, I saw three young men slowly meandering down the sidewalk. One of them had a rather large, bright yellow cooler in his hands. I was peering at them intently trying to discern where it is they were going when a thunderous bass beat assaulted my ears. Momentarily slowing my stride, I came to the rather slow realization that Melanie and Co. were having a party.

“Hey, do you know who lives here?” asked the short boy with the cooler in his hands.


“Yeeeaaahh,” I said slowly drawing out the word. “My friends Mel and Eric live here. Why?”


“I don’t know. We were just told to come here, that’s all.” said the boy, plainly looking as confused as I felt.


“Oh.” I really didn’t know what else to say, so I made my way to the door and walked inside leaving it open behind me.


I was greeted immediately by a very drunk Melanie. She stood in the archway of the living room, standing with her silver corduroy clad legs wide apart. Her neon green halter top was cinched close underneath her petite breasts where the fabric then widened and billowed out like a dress, hanging down over her stomach.

“We’re having a party, Carissa!” She gleefully proclaimed waving her hands in the air.


If I had known that there was going to be a party, I never would have shown up.


Nothing against Melanie, she’s one of my best friends. I love her to death. I just don’t do well in a house party setting. It’s definitely not the type of environment in which I thrive, and something bad always seems to happen. I listened to Melanie chatter on about her new friend Hannah that she was trying to get her roommate Eric to take an interest to, while looking anxiously about the room for my other friend Nikki. I knew that she would be sober also. Nikki and I tend to anchor each other in certain situations, and this was one of them.


Inexplicably, I had beaten her to Melanie’s house, which never, EVER, happens.


Fortunately, I didn’t have to wait too long as Nikki showed up about five minutes later, bottle of water in tow.


“How the hell did that happen?” she asked me, half laughing. “You beat me here!”


“I know.” I answered her, laughing uneasily.


Nikki, Melanie, and I stuck close together most of the night. Melanie was plainly drunk, but extremely talkative, and mostly articulate. She began a detailed report on all the people that were there that I hadn’t met, telling a brief anecdote about each one. Amanda with the ghetto booty fighting with her boyfriend while quietly mooning over an ex of hers that was there. The ever intoxicated Jessica, with a near anorexic frame, reliving her days in the womb along with Melanie as their mother’s were pregnant at the same time. The newly buff, but highly promiscuous Dan, best-friend to Melanie’s boyfriend, also named Dan. The bisexual X-boyfriend named Dave (I think) of our friend Lindsay, who gave off a decidedly feminine vibe despite the loose t-shirt and ultra saggy pants. And the list went on…

I listened patiently, speaking when appropriate, laughing when needed. Soon our little trio was approached by Mel’s roommate Eric. A calm annoyance took lodge in my mind. Eric and I were in a bit of a debate, which should have stayed strictly impassive, but somehow ended up getting slightly personal (see previous blogs).


I stood there next to Eric listening to he and Nikki discuss the finer points of Texas Hold ‘Em. Determined not to be overly bitchy, but stay decidedly unaffected, I opted to keep my mouth shut. Three days ago, Eric had been very callous in an argument towards me, and I was going to speak to him as little as possible until he apologized.


It’s a curious trait among men, that if they find themselves in an argument where they know that they have gone wrong, he will try to simply smooth things over by not acknowledging it. Now, there are those men that will never bring themselves to apologize for their actions (except in the direst circumstances) and try to pick everything up as it was exactly before the argument took place. Then there are those men, which will attempt to get by doing that at first, but then either because of the other person, their own guilt, and an unrelenting sense of right and wrong-they realize what’s important and ultimately apologize.


Eventually, Eric realized that he was getting nowhere with me, and I believed that my silent discontentment was making him uncomfortable. But, I would not force him to give me an apology. He could give it willingly or not at all. If he chose never to give it, well, we would never be friends again. I would never outwardly mistreat him, it wasn’t worth that. I would merely continue on the way that I was with an ice cold demeanor underlying every word that passed between us, despite the smile on my face.

“Alright, Carissa.” Eric said, interrupting my thoughts. His tone was resigned yet somewhat resolute. I turned to face him, a little annoyed, slightly expectant, not sure what was coming. I inclined my head forward, a little to the side with a bitchy smile on my face. Damn, hadn’t meant to do that.

“I’m sorry.”


My heart turned over faintly, and I could feel my eyebrows rising in surprise. For a moment I simply stared at him. At his shaggy hair, his cozy looking red pullover, his uncomfortable smile, the beads of moisture collecting on the outside of the beer can in his right hand.


“I never meant to -“ I started stupidly, throwing up my hands.


“I know you didn’t. You just hurt my pride. There’s not a lot of people who can do that.” Eric finished, cutting me off.


“Okay, Eric.” I said, dropping my eyes, not quite sure how I felt, knowing that the admission had cost him something.


Nikki rose from her chair, grinning broadly, arms extended.


“Awww, you guys are so cute. Did you read the last comment I wrote in your blog, Carissa? I win. Group hug, you guys. I win.”


I wondered vaguely if Nikki was on drugs, before I reluctantly allowed myself to be enveloped by their arms. Nikki’s around my shoulder, Eric’s around my waist. Both of them squeezing hard enough to cut off my air supply. I found myself smiling despite myself. I didn’t realize quite how committed I was to my surliness. Damn them. Inwardly, I smiled too, broader than I allowed anyone else to see.


As soon as our hug ended, we were approached by Melanie and her boyfriend Dan.


“Look who’s here, honey.” She beamed.


“Hi, Carissa.” Dan greeted me, leaning down for a hug.


“Hello, Daniel” I said, leaning up on the balls of my feet, returning the hug.


He thanked me again and apologized profusely for my having had to sign his friend out of the emergency room the other night after he drunkenly passed out somewhere. For someone that doesn’t really drink, I always seem to be surrounded by people that do. I assured him once again, that it was no problem, and Melanie pointed out to us how “buff” Dan was getting. I watched while he and Nikki compared biceps.


“Uhh, I think he’s got you beat there, Nikki.” I said eyeing a bicep that was bigger than my head. We all laughed.


Eric sidled up to us, and Dan threw his arm around his shoulders.


“Carisa, you have got to find this guy a great girlfriend.”


Three different girls that I knew came to my mind, along with this new girl, Hannah.


“Hey, I’ve tried. He’s too picky.” I said, pointedly looking into his eyes.


“I am not picky” Eric protested, bending under Dan’s arm.


“Yes, you are.” I shot back without hesitation.


“Well, I may be picky, but I’m not too picky.” He said, sullenly.


Yeah, and my bra size is a double A. It seemed to me, and to a lot of us other girls, that Eric wanted a specific type of girl in appearance, and in thought. I thought of Hannah again, so typically small, and blond. How conventional of our society. I sighed inwardly. Whatever happened to being unique?


“Well, what about Hannah?” I asked, watching Dan and Melanie kiss each other. Eric explained that since everyone was hell bent on them hooking up, the whole thing seemed a little contrived, which was making the whole thing feel awkward. I shrugged my shoulders. I understood, but there really wasn’t a lot I could say. Or rather there was a lot that I wanted to say to him about his preferences, but decided that remaining silent was probably the best course of action.


Melanie took me aside and introduced me to her friend Chris whom she had affectionately nicknamed “Goose” and who consequently started calling her “Maverick” because neither of us had ever seen “Top Gun”. This was a veritable sin, as far as the American movie going population was concerned, and every promised to remedy the situation as soon as possible.


Our friend Lindsay of the multicolored hair approached Melanie and whispered something in her ear.


“No.” Melanie said. Then eyeing the ceiling, as if she was making a decision she said; “Well, maybe. Yes.”


Linds went to her purse by the entertainment center, got out a small container, and shook what looked like pills into her pale hand. She grabbed an ATM card and started crushing them up. I felt my heart sinking into my stomach as a terrible knowledge lodged itself in my gut.


For whatever reason, this night was not going to end well.



TO BE CONTINUED…..