In Reverse Pt. 01

Halfway through the shower I heard her shriek. Panic rising in my throat, I leaped out of the tub and wrapped the towel around me haphazardly before I darted into her room. She was sitting on her bed with her computer open on her lap. I'd never seen her eyes so frantic.

"What's the matter?" I asked, fearing the worst.

"I forgot," she said weakly. "I changed the time of the party to today."

I balked. "What?"

"My girlfriends from the sorority were having a party for a mutual friend last night, so I changed the party to tonight instead of yesterday."

I hadn't checked the status of the event since Monday, which had read that the party was on Friday night by that point. Mike must have read the same thing without receiving the update. "So no one really ditched your party."

She guffawed. "I guess not!"

So instead of going home, I helped Laura prepare for a second party. She showered and I did her hair for her while she did her makeup, then she did the same for me, despite my protesting. "We'll make you look gorgeous for Mike, for when he comes back," she said, carefully tracing my eye with liquid liner. "Then he simply can't resist your charm!" Laura had sent him two text messages, but he replied to neither. I kept my fingers crossed, however.

By the time Laura had finished my makeover, I was utterly transformed. My hair, which I usually kept back in a ponytail, was flowing freely about my shoulders, straighter and tamer than I had ever seen it. My eyes popped; they looked brighter and wider with the mascara and the green eyeshadow, and my cheeks were light and rosy from the blush she had applied. She lent me a glittering gold top with a scooped neckline and a skirt that wasn't too short but not too modest, either. I had never felt prettier my entire life.

We ran to the grocery store to pick up a few more fresh snacks and mixers, then ordered a few pizzas to be delivered by the time the guests would be arriving. Her and I sat on the couch and watched more reruns while sharing a mickey of spiced rum. For the first shot, we giggled and toasted one another, cheering, "Titty booze!" and downing our poison. Last night's events did not repeat themselves. But we certainly talked about it fondly.

Finally guest after guest flooded in, none of whom I knew and none of whom seemed interested in knowing me. Laura made sure her guests were entertained and taken care of, and soon a sizable enough group had gathered for music to start. More people kept coming, and the more alcohol that I had consumed, the friendlier people seemed to be. But I was becoming more and more anxious every time someone who wasn't Mike showed up at the door.

I had stopped drinking around ten at night, fretting too much over the fact that we were missing the most important guest. Time ticked on painfully. People were no longer friendly, they were abrasive, loud, childish. I isolated myself mostly, resorting to people watching, hoping at any moment I would turn to find Mike joining me. He did not, however.

Suddenly the night was over. When the last of Laura's friends had either left or crashed, it was nearly four in the morning. I sat on the stairs, staring at the front door, looking more haggard and glum than I should have. Laura slowly walked down the steps, sat down gently next to me, and rested her head on my shoulder.

"I wouldn't worry too much about it, sweetie," she said soothingly. "Wrong place, wrong time."

That didn't make me feel any better.

On Laura's last day, I accompanied her everywhere. I helped her pack her suitcase, make an inventory of her things, and ensure she had all the appropriate documents for when she arrived on UK soil. She was distraught and disorganized, unable to put two thoughts together long enough to accomplish a given task. Everything she said was incoherent. At first I thought it was lack of sleep; then I recognized it as apprehension. I never knew Laura to ever be nervous.

We were sprawled out on her bedroom floor, getting things together. She was trying to sort out her registration papers for school and separate them from her loan documents when suddenly she just broke down and cried.

I sat up and put a hand on her shoulder. "Laura...."

She sidled next to me and buried her face in my shoulder. As I wrapped her in a hug, I tried not to cry. But there were those tears sneaking out the corners of my eyes. I didn't ask her what was wrong and she didn't volunteer the information. I thought it was pretty self-explanatory. As she wallowed in grief about leaving everything she knew behind, I thought about my own misery. Try as I might, I could not get over it. I barely knew him, but I knew that Iwantedto. He was all I thought about over the past few days. I kept playing scenes out over and over in my head, his voice ringing in my ears, his touch tingling on my skin. I missed him more than I ought have, and I was torn up over the fact that I probably would never see him again.

Just as my chin quivered I told myself to snap out of it. No point in feeling sorry for myself. Besides, crying over my troubles while my friend was crying into my shoulder over her own seemed selfish and ridiculous. I wiped away my tears and turned my attention to her, realizing that I was going to miss Laura terribly too. We should have spent more time together.

Eventually she resurfaced and dried her tears. "I shouldn't be like this. This is supposed to be exciting."

"That doesn't mean it's not scary as hell," I said as if I held wisdom on the subject. "I think you're pretty brave, Laura."

She smiled at me sadly. Her eyes were twice as bright from crying. "I'm going to miss you, Audi."

"I'll miss you too. But it's not like I'll never see you again." I swallowed hard when I inevitably thought about Mike again.

She nodded, sniffed, and went back to her paperwork.

By the time we drove her to the airport, everyone was cried out—me, her mother, her father (following in the car behind—for all I know he could have been crying in there)—but it didn't mean we stopped being miserable. No one said a word during the car ride. It was the most silent I'd ever seen Laura's mom, the woman that was so chatty she could get a conversation going with the dead. And Laura... no one had known what it was to be forlorn before her. She stared off into the distance as if she was on a different plane of existence from the rest of us. I held her hand, and she squeezed me to let me know she was still with me.

The four of us stood in line with her to check her baggage and print her boarding pass. Despite the long lineup, we flew through it quickly. Then we stood to the side in a silent circle.

Laura first gave her father a hug, then her mother. When she got to me, she held me tight, pressing her mouth to my ear. "Don't lose touch, 'kay, Audi?"

"As long as you don't," I said. With a sigh she pulled away.

"Bye, everybody," she said.

We watched her disappear in the crowd, absorbed like a drop of water into the ocean. Her dad turned and left without saying a word. That was the most heart-wrenching part of it.

"Okay," her mom said, "okay." Like she was answering her own question.

I followed her out to the parking lot without another word. She drove me home, just as silent as before. I thanked her for the ride and she politely declined my offer to pay for gas. No one else was home; I took the blessing as an opportunity to lock myself in my room, bury myself under the covers, and cry myself to sleep.

That marked the end of my happy, content, Average Audrey life.

End Part One