Jack & Tammy: The Party

Jack and Tammy are at a party. But they don’t know each other yet.

Tammy knows half of the people there and a quarter of them have fucked off somewhere to different parts of the house to smoke different things, meet different people and order new drinks.

The other half arrived in couples and they are in fights, small ones, which are cured with coded conversations and more alcohol.

Before arriving at the party, Tammy took her time in getting ready. She wore the turquoise dress, the one she found on sale a year ago and had stashed it at the very end of her closet. It has a holographic quality to it and it fits her body like a friend.

So even if she was alone within a party of familiar faces, her dress stuck by her side as she drank ginger and vodka

At first she stayed pasted to the wall, but noticed that there was a space in the corner that was free. The thought of propping her buzzing head against the wall where she could see everything from both sides was irresistible.

She wobbled over towards the corner spot, looking down at her toes with each step. They were strapped in by her sandals and for a moment the jewels matched the color of the soft ice cubes in her cup.

Translucent chunks of beige magic, she thought, and took another sip from the rim of her cup before meeting the epicenter where both sides of tall converged. Satisfied, she turned around and tipped more of the drink into her mouth.

Carbonation and the ginger stung the back of her throat, and she closed her eyes.

Now, Tammy is comfortable.

A few people pass by her at her spot on the wall and raise their glasses to cheer. The ginger is so good. So refreshing.

Across the room about 15 feet is Jack. He’s knee deep in a large engrossing conversation with a gentleman called Paul. Something about UFOs. He’s mostly listening and sometimes he thinks about leaving to go and refresh his drink, but Paul will every once in a while say something so intriguing that Jack lingers in place to hear him complete a thought.

Jack is drinking ice water and thinking about being abducted.

It can’t be that bad. Can it?

Paul says he has to go to the bathroom, which snaps Jack back into reality. He nods “Sure” and lets his friend pass as he makes a beeline for the bathroom down the hall.

Left alone with his thoughts and water at the bottom of his glass, Jack spaces out. He’s standing in front of the fireplace, which is decorated with all sorts of beautiful oddities:

Miniature jukeboxes, taxidermied animals, scattered candy canes in cellophane, and out of print lurid paperbacks hollowed out and filled with bite sized candy bars.

Jack rolls the glass around in his large grasp, rocking slightly on his heels. He notices someone in his peripheral vision staring at him. Or near him.

Tammy is riding the tail end of a 15 minute buzz. It would have lasted longer had she skipped the ginger, but it was fresh and hard-bitter ginger beer from Jamaica.

She breathes in deep and shifts her weight between each heeled sandal.

Her eyes scan both sides of the room until she settles near the fireplace.

“There’s a lot of cool shit on that fireplace,” she mumbles to herself.

Her eyes leisurely follow the mantelpiece, observing a petrified stuffed fox near the center, it’s mouth frozen open as though time stopped and a muskrat or chicken was stolen from its mouth.

She sees Jack’s hand set down an empty glass tumbler next to the frozen fox.

His silver jacket looks like an old one, from the 1960s, and it contrasts stylishly against the rest of his outfit--a black button down shirt, black tapered slacks and polished black shoes. She looks back at the fox briefly, and then back to Jack. He waves a big-handed wave to her from across the room.

She returns the wave and the two share a smile.