The Party - Part 2

The last few weeks have been more stressful than any I can remember in recent years, outside of a work situation. Finally the night of the party has arrived though. The venue has been booked and paid for, the food has been ordered, and the guest list finalised – which has been quite a work in itself. My brother has phoned me earlier in day. He knows I’m bound to be stressed, but has told me just to try to relax and just enjoy the evening. Standing in front of the mirror, I hear his words in my head as I look at my reflection. I down the vodka and tonic by the bedside table and stretch my neck from side to side. I’m wearing a black suit, a white shirt and slim black tie ‘not bad’.

The buzzer of my front door sounds and I hear the blare as the taxi driver sounds the horn outside. My good friend A is waiting with the driver and a couple of other friends. “Looking good” she says as I step out of the entrance to my building. I smile and climb in to the back of the cab, and moments later we are on our way.

No sooner have we arrived at the venue, and spoken to the event manager and bar staff, than the guests start arriving, starting with a number of family members. G arrives shortly after and gives me a big hug, telling me to relax and enjoy the evening. There is then a seemingly endless period where the door is continually open with people arriving, including some who I hadn't the least idea would be able to make it.

I have been on a number of dates over the past year, and whilst things may not have worked out in the romantic sense, I now at least have a number of new friends that I didn’t have a year ago. A few of them have turned up this evening for the party. However, this also gives way to awkward introductions as people meet one another and ask the inevitable question about how they know me. “So, you’ve got a lot of ex’s here tonight” says a recent date, with her arms folded and wearing a frown. I smile sheepishly.

A friend of mine walks over to me. “Hey where’s G?" she says "I’ve read so much about her in your blogs but never met her.” G happens to be standing right behind her, overhears the conversation and turns around to catch my eye over the girls shoulder. Regular readers will know that G is the most frequent reoccurrence in this blog. “Just keep me anonymous” she regularly tells me. I shrug my shoulders at my friend “G doesn’t exist” I say “she’s based on a different person every time.” “Oh really?” says my friend disappointedly. G winks at me and reverts back to her conversation.

As more people arrive, I find it difficult to hold conversations with people for more than a few minutes at a time. I flit between different groups and try to ensure that I haven’t ignored or forgotten anyone. “People are enjoying themselves, relax and do the same” says A as she tops up my glass. I nod in agreement take a look around the room at the increasing numbers of people and smile inwardly. Just then another friend walks over to me and puts his arm around my shoulder. “Are you enjoying yourself mate?” “I am” I tell him “I’m a bit overwhelmed actually. I mean it’s one thing to see a long list of names on a guest list, but quite another to see them all in the same room together”. “Well to be honest,” he says, “the fact that you’ve managed to get this many people out, the week before Christmas, says a lot about you”. I feel a glow inside and we clink glasses.

I’m standing, facing the bar when someone taps me on the shoulder. I turn around to find myself face to face with the SA. “Hello” she smiles. I have history with this girl and a couple of years ago she broke my heart, although she probably isn’t aware of this fact. We’re good and close friends now though. My desire to remain cool and aloof is betrayed by the smile on my face. She looks terrific and over the next couple of hours we talk, we drink, I introduce her to friends, we dance and we kiss in the middle of the dance floor, oblivious to anyone who might be watching. She has said that she has to go to a leaving do elsewhere later, although I have put this out of my mind as we kiss. A short while later though and I am talking to someone else as she taps me on the shoulder and tells me that she has to leave. I’ve forgotten that she was going. “Stay” I say, “I can’t, I said I’d go to my friend’s do”. I sigh inwardly and with a heavy heart, I help her get her coat and walk her to the top of the stairs. We face each other in the short corridor leading from the top of the stairs to the entrance. I don't want her to go. I press her against the wall and we kiss again. After a few minutes I break the kiss. “Stay” I whisper. “I’m sorry, I can’t” she says. I look into her eyes and I realise that I’m still in love with her. ‘You’re breaking my heart’. I watch her leave as she looks back before disappearing out of the entrance.

My eyes feel hot and there’s a lump in my throat as I walk back downstairs to rejoin the party, which is now beginning to thin out. I get myself a drink from the bar, where G joins me. “You ok?” she asks. I look at her and she can see that I’m not. We take our drinks to a sofa and I tell her about what has just happened and open up about some of the history. I haven’t spoken to G about the SA before. Opening up like this isn't something that comes naturally to me. She rests her hand on mine though, and her eyes are so warm and kind that it feels so simple to talk about something so personal. It also brings an unexpectly cathartic element which lifts my mood. She hugs me warmly, her cheek against mine and reminds me that this, after all, is my birthday party. “You ok now?” she says after a while. I shrug my shoulders and smile at her. “Yes – thanks”. She stands up, taking my hand in hers as we rejoin the party.

It’s gone 2am now, and the party is a hardcore of just over half a dozen close friends. People have stopped dancing. The champagne has finished, the shots have been drunk and people are now swirling Baileys and late night Brandy. Looking around the group, there is a mutual recognition of tiredness, achy feet and a feeling that the evening is coming to a close. “Time for taxis?” says G. I nod and smile “Yes, I think so”. “Have you had a good night?” says A. I ponder - I have eaten well and drunk more than my fair share of champagne and vodka. I have been overwhelmed at the turnout, some of whom I had no idea would come. I have felt loved by close friends and my family. I have felt both deliriously happy and intensely sad, but right now I am feeling content. “Yes, a very good night”. I thank the bar staff and follow the others out into the cold December air.

Outside on the pavement, I see that A has hailed a taxi for a few of us to head back to East London and is holding the door open. I am about to get in, when I look across to see G getting into a silver taxi to head in a different direction. She looks across and we catch one another’s eye. “Thank you” I mouth at her. She blows a kiss and puts a finger and thumb to her ear as she indicates and mouths "call me". I nod before getting into the cab next to A and I close the door. “Anything you want to tell me about there?” she asks, nodding over to G. I shrug my shoulders “No, we’re just friends.” I look out of the back window and watch the silver taxi as it drives away.