Mirrored Cuts

Chapter 15

One Friday, Ruby and I learned that there was to be a fraternity party where the entire first floor was covered in a foot of sand. It was already getting colder and we decided on one last taste of summer, despite the fact that it would probably be mixed with the taste of cheap beer. I had been warned about Pittsburgh winters; they were so cold that it people could get frostbite if they weren't dressed appropriately (as in covered head to toe in wool). It was also the kind of winter that brought people together, through having something to complain about, a shared enemy. Ruby pulled out all of her cutoff jean shorts and laid them on her desk, which, I had discovered, is what she believed her desk to be for.

"America tube top or tie dye tank top?" she asked me.

"Don't you think the American flag is a little much for this party?"

"But tie dye is childish..."

It was funny to me the way that people always asked me for advice and then fought against it. They would seem like they were genuine about their desire to be guided. And then, once guided, they would realize that they actually did have strong feelings and I would feel like an idiot for not anticipating what they actually wanted me to say. Perhaps I should have stopped giving advice all together. But that kind of idea about giving advice was hard to explain. And you couldn't just say no if someone asked you a question. Well, you could, but then you'd be a jerk and no one would ask you for advice...and it was nice to be asked.

I borrowed a pair of Ruby's cutoff shorts because I had nothing even remotely summery.My mother would never have approved of how short they were. I tried on her shirts but we were different sizes so I wore my bathing suit and one of the tank tops I wanted to care about, but couldn't. Ruby and I stared at ourselves in the mirror. Ruby admired herself while I wished I was more comfortable with my body. I looked like I was heading out to do yard work, not go to a fraternity beach party.

Ruby was in a bubbling champagne-like mood. "Shots."

I hesitated, as I was not known for the amount I was able to drink.

Ruby poured me one anyway, a shot of something pink that tasted like it looked.

Flint pushed open the door we had left dead bolted.

"Oh, wow. Where are you two going?"

"A "Minding Your Own" Anonymous meeting," Ruby said.

I winced. "There's a party down the street."

"Aren't you going to be cold? It's like 50 degrees out there," Flint said.

I faltered, running through the female empowerment mantras I had heard all my life about how I should be able to dress the way I wanted to without being judged, without my appearance being commented on. But I just felt bad. When Ruby handed me the shot of pink, I drank it to forget that Flint disapproved of what I was doing.

"I was going to ask if you wanted to watch another episode of West Wing," Flint said.

"Now's not really a good time. Maybe tomorrow?"

He nodded, accepting my scrap offering, and walked out of the room.

I probably should have run after him, given him a hug, apologized for not carrying my weight in our friendship for the last few weeks, perhaps even to try to get him to understand what EMS meant to me. I did another pink shot and followed Ruby out of the room, already feeling like my brain was fuzzy and numb.

When we arrived, it was chaos. When we stepped into the fraternity house, we were immediately assaulted by the stale smell of beer. The sand between our toes was fun to play with and we spent some time adjusting to the party vibe and attempting to build castles with our feet, because God forbid we touch the sand with our hands at this point in the night. No one knew what it could be hiding. The DJ was standing on a table, pumping his fist in the air and screaming the lyrics to every song. The group on the dance floor was gyrating their partners into the wall. In the corner, a group of men with large torsos and scrawny legs played beer pong. Ruby and I called the next game and settled in to watch the team before us get drunker and less coordinated with every cup they lost.