Watch Me Disappear

the table in the foyer. It is subtle enough that you barely notice it. The only other decorations to speak of are the wreath on the door and the red and green table setting. My dad didn’t manage to string up any lights outside, and I’ve noticed that up and down our street, very few houses have any. I feel that old familiar gnawing jealousy in the pit of my stomach. This is Missy’s life—warm, welcoming, joyous. My family looks like a pack of freeze pops by comparison. Standing there, watching Paul lace his fingers in Missy’s, seeing her mother come down the stairs with the baby in her arms, I don’t think I’ve ever felt more lonely. I may as well be watching through the frosty windows.
    “Lizzie!” Anna says, leaning around the baby at her hip to give me a kiss on the cheek. “Merry Christmas! We haven’t seen you in ages. Say hi to Lizzie, Lucas.” She moves the baby’s arm to wave at me.
    “Come in,” Missy says, urging us away from the door. “I think we should stake out a place in the front room.” She leads us that way.
    Missy takes us to the far corner of the room near the windows where the lights are dim and a loveseat and chair are arranged into a cozy nook. Paul and Missy settle into the loveseat and I sit in the big wing chair. I feel the draft from the window over my shoulder and try to suppress a shiver. I am wearing the outfit my mother bought me for just such holiday occasions. A black knit top with satin trim along the neckline that ties in a little bow, and a pleated, knee-length wool skirt that is apparently the style of the season. She tried to talk me into a pair of tights that shimmered, but that was a bit much for me, so I wear regular opaque black tights and black Mary Jane shoes. The outfit is cute but not warm. I wish I had worn pants and a heavy sweater, something that would allow me to curl up and keep warm. I hadn’t even thought about how Missy’s house is old and drafty. Paul has his arm around Missy and she nestles into him.
    “Don’t you think, Lizzie?” Missy asks, snapping me from my reverie. I haven’t been listening at all. I’m just trying to keep a pleasant expression on my face.
    “I’m sorry, what was that?” I say.
    “I was just saying how great it is that there’s snow on the ground,” she repeats. “Most of the places my dad has been stationed have been in the southwest, and I don’t know if I’ve ever really had a white Christmas before.”
    “Oh,” I say. We have been reduced to talking about the weather. “Yeah, it is nice.”
    “I’m going to go make sure my mom doesn’t need any more help,” Missy says, untangling herself from Paul’s grasp. “You two talk amongst yourselves.”
    I move as if to follow her, but she waves me off. “Don’t be silly!” she says. “You’re our guest.”
    I slide back down into the big chair and look at the floor.
    “You were right,” Paul says after a minute.
    I look up.
    “Missy’s mom is a better cook.”
    Is he trying to start a fight? Why did I agree to come to this stupid party? “Why don’t you come by one afternoon and tell my mom that, and while you’re at it you can reassure her that I was telling the truth all along when I told her that all you really wanted with me was to get to Missy,” I say.
    “Hey, I was just kidding.”
    “Uh huh.”
    “I’m sorry I haven’t been around more.”
    “Whatever.” Oh how I wish I were anywhere else. And I know that if he doesn’t shut up soon this conversation is going to end with me in tears no matter how hard I try to fight it.
    “Missy and I are both really glad you came tonight,” he says.
    Like that makes a difference.
    “I have missed you, Lizzie,” he says. “You know I think of you as one of the guys, and if it makes you feel any better, I haven’t seen much of them lately either.” He flashes his sly smile. I am supposed to be happy for him.
    “Yeah, but I’m not one of the guys, am I? I’m just your girlfriend’s friend.”
    “I’m sorry if I hurt you,” he says without looking at me.
    “Don’t flatter yourself,” I say getting up. I can feel a sob rising in my throat and tears balancing on the edges of my eye lashes. “I need to borrow a sweater.”
    I run straight up the stairs to the bathroom and lock the door behind me. It is going to be a long night.
     
    *          *          *
     
    It is a small party, small enough that we all sit at the dining room table for dinner. Anna has