Oh dear. Yes. That’s right. Oh. Dear. Tonight was the end of season party for our department of the ski company. I work with a particularly jovial, if not slightly alcoholic, crowd and so the promise of free booze, ribs and cake was enough to bring every single employee out. Our department numbers at about 25, all but two of them females. The line up changes from year to year, but there is a core group that has been there for many a season. The others tend to be young, hip Aussies, Argentinans or South Africans on break from college. But all in all, we grow to be a close knit group over the duration of a season of screaming kids and even louder screaming parents. So why not have a party to celebrate the end of coldness and the arrival of warm, green grass? Well, because I am a freak with issues, that is why.
It started when the work day ended and I realized I had actually committed to this party and had no way in hell of getting out of it. There had been a bigger, crazier party early in the season to which I had promised to attend. But at the last minute? No could do. The thought of all those people, the noise, the fact that I would have to interact and hold a conversation? Nuh-huh. I caught quite a bit of shit for it since one of my co-workers had planned for me to spend the night and she had put on clean linens for me, bought my favorite cereal for breakfast, etc. So she made me promise, promise, promise that I go tonight. Today it took me over 30 minutes to talk myself into actually entering the party. And if I am being fair I have to ‘fess up that I was an hour early and ended up with just a few of us chatting and cutting up cheese and arranging crackers. It was fun and relaxing, we even had a giggle over the fact that I admitted my fear of attending the party. One of my co-workers was surprised at this and asked, “Heather, do you have stress about things? You seem so calm and even keeled?” Oh, honey if you only knew, I wanted to tell her. But I just smiled and said something about stress, three kids, single motherhood, blah, blah, blah.
After we got it all set up the bulk of the girls arrived, the iPod got hooked up and the booze began to flow. The younger girls stepped out for a smoke and the cameras began to flash. I felt myself slowly edging away from the core of the action and participating in smaller and smaller conversations. I felt my mouth begin to freeze in a permanent dumb fuck sort of smile and I hoped nobody else was noticing that I had switched from actual words to merely nodding like some kind of dumb ass. Then the food arrived, the delivery boy did a small jig, everybody cheered and began to line up for food. And I saw my escape. I ran for the bathroom and wondered how the hell I could go back into that room. The room that now felt as though it was filled with hundreds of people. And all that food that I could smell even in the bathroom. I forced myself to return. I grabbed my bag and then ran smack into my boss. My sweet, motherly boss. She saw the look of what must have been pure terror on my face and said, “Oh, honey. You gotta go, huh?” I could only nod and she gave me one of the best hugs I have had in months. And then I fled.
I made it to the car before I managed to suck a full breath into my lungs; it felt as though I hadn’t breathed in days. I got in the seat and began the heaving and gagging that accompany full out panic attacks. And then I cried. All those people and the conversing slammed me right back to the receiving line at my dad’s funeral. We stood in a row, we family members, and shook hands and hugged hugs for what seemed like hours. It was the reversal of the joy in wedding lines. It was a seemingly endless line of reminders of how many people would be missing him. And we stood there with calm, serene mouths that really wanted to scream and yell. And the food in the background, steaming and congealing on the long tables. All those people who lovingly prepared so many dishes in order to comfort us; I just wanted to hurl them all at the walls and scream. It was all too much tonight.
And so instead of celebrating, tonight I scuttled away in my car. I drove to the grassy knoll of the athletic field where I watched Loren’s soccer practice. I sat and watched the clouds pass by the mountains. I felt the setting sun warm my back. I sought the comfort of the familiar and pushed away the outside world for just a little while longer.