Stars
by Casady McEvoy
Cynthia’s apartment was too small for the party. She lived in a modest one bedroom, a single couch across a wide-screen television she won in a random competition.
She closed her bedroom door for the party, but this was promptly ignored by the guests. Cynthia was a private person. Only a few of us were offered insight on how she laid in bed; what she wore and what she didn’t; how she tossed and turned in her sleep. How her black hair tickled her nose in the middle of the night; how she muttered random phrases from her dreams. But now random people lied where she once lied. Robbed her of privacy, stole her solitude by leaving their rancid smell and sweat on her sheets.
Cynthia’s birthday party was supposed to be a few friends. We would get gloriously drunk, watch bad movies, play awful games, consummate, or just dance around. All would become a circle of worship, joining hands and filling the apartment with chants and laughter.
I got there fifteen minutes later than intended because Eddy borrowed my car to join the party without me. I paid for a ride. The parking lot was filled with cars. Guests spilled out of Cynthia’s one bedroom. I pushed my way through, people shoved their red cups in my face.
I had a cookie cake that had an inside joke about Cynthia on it. Something about numbers and knives, I don’t remember it. Guests clawed at the box. I swatted their hands away like flies.
I squeezed my way in to see Cynthia’s actual friends on the couch. Luke dangled his head back. Marsha was beside him and calling me over, tempting me with whatever cup she had in her hand. She offered my favorite social lubricant. Cynthia’s boyfriend was on the couch too. but I don’t remember his name or if they were actually dating or just talking to one another. I never understood the rituals beyond the stripping of clothes and the shedding of skins.
“Have you seen Cynthia?” Marsha asked.
“No, I just got here.”
“You didn’t come with Eddy?”
“No.” In truth, Eddy was upset with me. I think he was hoping I would be out of his apartment by now. I didn’t pay enough rent. He started looking for me to be the scapegoat to his life. He was a drunk because I was a drunk. He didn’t go to school because he had to work to support the pair of us. Marsha was outgrowing him because I was holding him back from growing with her.
A night before he woke me up blind drunk. He slapped me and sat down on my abdomen.
“You ruin everything, you know that?” Eddy couldn’t see me.
“Alright, yeah, I know.”
I closed my eyes to go back to sleep, but he shook me awake. “No, no, you’re not going to bed. You’re staying up.”
“C’mon, Eddy,” I remember saying. “I got school later.”
He twisted his upper lip. He almost stared at me. “I don’t want to see your smug face. Your arrogant, smug, little face.”
He got up and went to his room. There was something eating at his soul to make him hate me. My bones felt the same need as his.
But at the party, I told Marsha, “He must have forgot me.”
“Well, Eddy’s outside by the beer pong table,” Marsha rolled her eyes.
“Beer pong?”
“Yeah,” Luke struggled to lift his head. “Eddy had someone bring it.”
“What’s going on?” I looked around at all the drunk faces I didn’t know.
“Hell if I know,” Luke slurred, and Marsha laughed a little too loud. “Eddy apparently went crazy and invited everyone here.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” Marsha tapped Luke’s head. Luke laughed and shoved her hand off. “We all got a little too sloshed and then more and more people kept coming.”
“We lost Cynthia in the crowd,” Cynthia’s possible boyfriend said.
Years ago, I would have settled down next to them, taking their inaction as permission for my own. Sometimes, other people gave us an excuse to just exist and not help. But sadly, my heart wouldn’t let me be that person anymore.
“I’m going to find Cynthia.”
“Good luck,” Marsha kissed me on my forehead. “We just resolved to clean up this mess after.”
I walked past everyone and went through the shallow hallway. I bumped into warm bodies slumped against the wall, numb to everything. I held the cake closer to me to make sure no one knocked it out of my hands. I made it to Cynthia’s room.
Two bodies were engaged in the act of four arms and four legs. But it wasn’t Cynthia. I pushed the guy over and he stopped mid-movement and looked up from his fellow combatant.
“Screw off, yeah?” He didn’t remove himself from the other person.
“You can do whatever you want, but not on the bed.” I placed the cake on the bed stand, in case the male wanted to engage in violence.
“You didn’t want a turn?” All eyes were on me, complete strangers offering forbidden fruit on hallowed ground. I took longer than I should have, and he started to claw at my pants.
“No,” I pulled away. “My friend wouldn’t like you in her bed.”
“Piss off then,” he said. But the girl gave him a look, one of those if-you-want-to-finish-then-you-better-stop kind of looks. He got up and put on his pants and the girl covered herself.
“We’ll just go to the bathroom,” she said, as if this was better. “We can wash ourselves off.”
They walked out of the room.
“I’m glad they left; I’ve never fought a naked asshole before,” I said to the guy who was watching in the closet. He laughed, pulled up his pants, and left. I locked the door behind me.
I decided Cynthia had to be outside. The backyard was just as claustrophobic, a single ping pong table had been adopted for beer pong.
Eddy was on one end of the table, his open shirt revealed his hairy stomach and chest, he had sunglasses on and a flat bill. It was as if he was wearing a costume.
“Eddy, where’s Cynthia?”
“Screw off,” he shouted. I don’t know if he knew it was me.
I looked at the bodies around me; none of them had Cynthia’s face or eyes. They were casualties to the liquor they drank, and the party was their battlefield. The bodies would collapse and sleep wherever they fell. Victims to the war of loud music, liquor, and boredom. Eddy was their general in drunkenness, maybe a few years earlier I would have joined him as field general or an admiral leading the many to the closed pools to swim and drown ourselves. But I was surprisingly sober and the look of everyone disgusted me.
Eddy kept playing and I left.
I made my way into the kitchen and found a bottle of Jameson on the counter. I poured myself a healthy amount in a red cup in consolation for failing in my task. It made everything seem easier. Then I was back on my search.
Cynthia was in the parking lot, watching a tow truck picking off her unwanted visitors one by one. None of them knew where to park like her actual friends had.
“Hey, I was looking for you,” I took a seat next to Cynthia.
“I told everyone to leave me alone.” She sounded painfully sober for someone turning twenty-three. It was a party for everyone but her.
“They probably forgot.”
“I love them but they kinda screwed up on this one,” Cynthia laughed then cried.
“They follow instructions well.”
“Everything’s ruined,” Cynthia held her legs to her chest. She looked up at the few stars we could see burning through the light pollution.
“Yeah, Eddy shouldn’t have invited all these assholes.”
Cynthia laughed again. I reached down for her hand, and she squeezed my fingers.
“Not that,” she stopped and thought for a second. “No actually, that was screwed up. Something must be up with him but that’s his problem.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“My mom called me today,” Cynthia’s mother was never a good presence in her life. Parents can be the source of great pains, the first fulfilled promise of suffering.
“How’d it go?”
“She just told me I was a waste. I don’t even know if she realized it was my birthday. I think she just felt the urge to call me and say she didn’t love me.”
“I’m sorry.” I said it but it didn’t help anything.
“It’s fine, it’s just another wasted day, huh?” Cynthia rubbed her eyes with her other hand; she kept one on my hand. “No matter how old I get, I’m still just a child with a ruined birthday.”
“Do you want to go back inside?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
And we watched the stars blink, hidden by street lamps. The moon illuminated the people who chased tow trucks down the street. People started to leave, stumbling over themselves and vomiting into the grass. But Cynthia didn’t seem to mind anymore. We were just two souls watching everything drift into the heat of night.
She closed her bedroom door for the party, but this was promptly ignored by the guests. Cynthia was a private person. Only a few of us were offered insight on how she laid in bed; what she wore and what she didn’t; how she tossed and turned in her sleep. How her black hair tickled her nose in the middle of the night; how she muttered random phrases from her dreams. But now random people lied where she once lied. Robbed her of privacy, stole her solitude by leaving their rancid smell and sweat on her sheets.
Cynthia’s birthday party was supposed to be a few friends. We would get gloriously drunk, watch bad movies, play awful games, consummate, or just dance around. All would become a circle of worship, joining hands and filling the apartment with chants and laughter.
I got there fifteen minutes later than intended because Eddy borrowed my car to join the party without me. I paid for a ride. The parking lot was filled with cars. Guests spilled out of Cynthia’s one bedroom. I pushed my way through, people shoved their red cups in my face.
I had a cookie cake that had an inside joke about Cynthia on it. Something about numbers and knives, I don’t remember it. Guests clawed at the box. I swatted their hands away like flies.
I squeezed my way in to see Cynthia’s actual friends on the couch. Luke dangled his head back. Marsha was beside him and calling me over, tempting me with whatever cup she had in her hand. She offered my favorite social lubricant. Cynthia’s boyfriend was on the couch too. but I don’t remember his name or if they were actually dating or just talking to one another. I never understood the rituals beyond the stripping of clothes and the shedding of skins.
“Have you seen Cynthia?” Marsha asked.
“No, I just got here.”
“You didn’t come with Eddy?”
“No.” In truth, Eddy was upset with me. I think he was hoping I would be out of his apartment by now. I didn’t pay enough rent. He started looking for me to be the scapegoat to his life. He was a drunk because I was a drunk. He didn’t go to school because he had to work to support the pair of us. Marsha was outgrowing him because I was holding him back from growing with her.
A night before he woke me up blind drunk. He slapped me and sat down on my abdomen.
“You ruin everything, you know that?” Eddy couldn’t see me.
“Alright, yeah, I know.”
I closed my eyes to go back to sleep, but he shook me awake. “No, no, you’re not going to bed. You’re staying up.”
“C’mon, Eddy,” I remember saying. “I got school later.”
He twisted his upper lip. He almost stared at me. “I don’t want to see your smug face. Your arrogant, smug, little face.”
He got up and went to his room. There was something eating at his soul to make him hate me. My bones felt the same need as his.
But at the party, I told Marsha, “He must have forgot me.”
“Well, Eddy’s outside by the beer pong table,” Marsha rolled her eyes.
“Beer pong?”
“Yeah,” Luke struggled to lift his head. “Eddy had someone bring it.”
“What’s going on?” I looked around at all the drunk faces I didn’t know.
“Hell if I know,” Luke slurred, and Marsha laughed a little too loud. “Eddy apparently went crazy and invited everyone here.”
“What?”
“Yeah,” Marsha tapped Luke’s head. Luke laughed and shoved her hand off. “We all got a little too sloshed and then more and more people kept coming.”
“We lost Cynthia in the crowd,” Cynthia’s possible boyfriend said.
Years ago, I would have settled down next to them, taking their inaction as permission for my own. Sometimes, other people gave us an excuse to just exist and not help. But sadly, my heart wouldn’t let me be that person anymore.
“I’m going to find Cynthia.”
“Good luck,” Marsha kissed me on my forehead. “We just resolved to clean up this mess after.”
I walked past everyone and went through the shallow hallway. I bumped into warm bodies slumped against the wall, numb to everything. I held the cake closer to me to make sure no one knocked it out of my hands. I made it to Cynthia’s room.
Two bodies were engaged in the act of four arms and four legs. But it wasn’t Cynthia. I pushed the guy over and he stopped mid-movement and looked up from his fellow combatant.
“Screw off, yeah?” He didn’t remove himself from the other person.
“You can do whatever you want, but not on the bed.” I placed the cake on the bed stand, in case the male wanted to engage in violence.
“You didn’t want a turn?” All eyes were on me, complete strangers offering forbidden fruit on hallowed ground. I took longer than I should have, and he started to claw at my pants.
“No,” I pulled away. “My friend wouldn’t like you in her bed.”
“Piss off then,” he said. But the girl gave him a look, one of those if-you-want-to-finish-then-you-better-stop kind of looks. He got up and put on his pants and the girl covered herself.
“We’ll just go to the bathroom,” she said, as if this was better. “We can wash ourselves off.”
They walked out of the room.
“I’m glad they left; I’ve never fought a naked asshole before,” I said to the guy who was watching in the closet. He laughed, pulled up his pants, and left. I locked the door behind me.
I decided Cynthia had to be outside. The backyard was just as claustrophobic, a single ping pong table had been adopted for beer pong.
Eddy was on one end of the table, his open shirt revealed his hairy stomach and chest, he had sunglasses on and a flat bill. It was as if he was wearing a costume.
“Eddy, where’s Cynthia?”
“Screw off,” he shouted. I don’t know if he knew it was me.
I looked at the bodies around me; none of them had Cynthia’s face or eyes. They were casualties to the liquor they drank, and the party was their battlefield. The bodies would collapse and sleep wherever they fell. Victims to the war of loud music, liquor, and boredom. Eddy was their general in drunkenness, maybe a few years earlier I would have joined him as field general or an admiral leading the many to the closed pools to swim and drown ourselves. But I was surprisingly sober and the look of everyone disgusted me.
Eddy kept playing and I left.
I made my way into the kitchen and found a bottle of Jameson on the counter. I poured myself a healthy amount in a red cup in consolation for failing in my task. It made everything seem easier. Then I was back on my search.
Cynthia was in the parking lot, watching a tow truck picking off her unwanted visitors one by one. None of them knew where to park like her actual friends had.
“Hey, I was looking for you,” I took a seat next to Cynthia.
“I told everyone to leave me alone.” She sounded painfully sober for someone turning twenty-three. It was a party for everyone but her.
“They probably forgot.”
“I love them but they kinda screwed up on this one,” Cynthia laughed then cried.
“They follow instructions well.”
“Everything’s ruined,” Cynthia held her legs to her chest. She looked up at the few stars we could see burning through the light pollution.
“Yeah, Eddy shouldn’t have invited all these assholes.”
Cynthia laughed again. I reached down for her hand, and she squeezed my fingers.
“Not that,” she stopped and thought for a second. “No actually, that was screwed up. Something must be up with him but that’s his problem.”
“Then what’s wrong?”
“My mom called me today,” Cynthia’s mother was never a good presence in her life. Parents can be the source of great pains, the first fulfilled promise of suffering.
“How’d it go?”
“She just told me I was a waste. I don’t even know if she realized it was my birthday. I think she just felt the urge to call me and say she didn’t love me.”
“I’m sorry.” I said it but it didn’t help anything.
“It’s fine, it’s just another wasted day, huh?” Cynthia rubbed her eyes with her other hand; she kept one on my hand. “No matter how old I get, I’m still just a child with a ruined birthday.”
“Do you want to go back inside?”
“No.”
“Do you want me to stay?”
“Yes.”
And we watched the stars blink, hidden by street lamps. The moon illuminated the people who chased tow trucks down the street. People started to leave, stumbling over themselves and vomiting into the grass. But Cynthia didn’t seem to mind anymore. We were just two souls watching everything drift into the heat of night.
Casady McEvoy (they/them) is a Los Angeles based writer who has done multiple local readings in Louisiana and California. They graduated from University of Louisiana at Lafayette and are currently enrolled in an MFA program at Anitoch University of Los Angeles.