The Party

It was almost exactly a year ago.

We had just reconnected after a few weeks apart.
The distance came from another party.
A rupture.
One where he had been inappropriate with another woman in front of me.

Still, I was hopeful.

It was his younger daughter’s party.
I arrived early, at his house first. A small pre-gathering before the main event.

His older daughter’s friend was there.
When we were introduced, the first thing she said was how messed up she was.
Just said it. Flat. Like a fact.

I drank.
I ate.
I had fun.

I let him host. I sat back.

Then he disappeared to have a shower.

Then she disappeared.

I thought nothing of it.
Until she came back some time later and sat down.

My body told me immediately.
A clear signal.
I brushed it aside as ridiculous.

A young girl.
An older man.
Don’t be dramatic.

At the function,

I drank.
I ate.
I had fun.

But his eyes followed her.
The movement of her body as she walked past.
Her buttocks.
Not subtle. Not brief.

I noticed.
I told myself it was nothing.

I drank.
I ate.
I had fun.

At the end of the night, he offered to get her a drink.
Left me standing there.

He came back with both drinks.
Did the familiar flirtatious move he usually reserved for me.

Their eyes locked as they drank.
They did not look away.

He finished his drink.
Still holding her gaze.
Put the glass down.
Gave a small nod.

Then he went to the toilets.

She followed.

I followed her.

If something was going to happen, I wanted to see it.

As we walked in, he came out of the cubicle.

“Oh. Two of you.”

I went into the toilet and waited.

I thought, if I go back out and they aren’t there, I will come back and wait for them.

I believe I interrupted something that night.
But I did not interrupt what had already happened earlier at his house.

The betrayal landed fully then.
Frozen.
Watching.
Unable to move.

That moment left a scar.

It hasn’t gone.
But it has softened.

Another mark of survival.
Another warrior woman scar.