The Party (Part 3)

So, shit had hit the fan with Jim’s parents at this point and there was one more significant event that took place before I moved to my next host family. Jim and I had attempted some semblance of a non-physical relationship, but it didn’t go very well. We were both confused and angry and exhausted. This one afternoon I was working on some school work in the dining room, listening to “Breathe Again” by Toni Braxton on continuous repeat (horribly depressing break-up song). Jim was leaning up against the side of the staircase, watching me. He was there for almost an hour – I pretended that I didn’t know he was there. After about an hour he finally came into the room, slammed the off button on the stereo, paused for a split second to glare at me with puffy, tear-soaked eyes, said nothing and then stormed up to his room.

That night, his best mate was having a party and surprisingly, his parents encouraged me to go, much to Jim’s disapproval. I invited a good mate of mine from school to come with me; I got along with a lot of Jim’s mates, but I still wanted someone there that was 100% on my team. We had arrived separately, and a bit later than Jim; he had probably been there for at least an hour already, and I could see he was already drunk. He was pretty moody even on a good day, so adding alcohol and depression wasn’t a good look for him; he was rude and tempestuous, especially towards me. I was annoyed with him, to say the least.

Before my placement, not only was I a virgin, I also had never drank or smoked in my life... until that night. I wanted to stick it to Jim by that point after I witnessed his behaviour – and conveniently they had just begun a drinking contest. How hard could it be? I’m in! Well... not only was I good at it, but after downing the first couple beers, my tongue was numbed to the disgusting taste. I won by a long shot – I chugged 7 beers in approximately 30 minutes. I was the latest hero of the party... and to top it off, Jim was livid with me. Everyone was cheering and high-fiving me while he sat in the corner and simmered in disapproval.

But hold on... I didn’t stop there... what about smoking? Why the hell not? Jim was smoking that night; he didn’t normally! My common sense was totally thrown away that night, just so I could spit some gas on to our already raging fire of a relationship. I had turned into a crazy stupid girl that night, one that I barely recognized. My mate wasn’t helping at all – from her perspective I was finally coming out of my shell and letting loose.

“You gotta try a ciggie! It’s an essential when yer drinkin! Camm’on, live a little!”

I think that’s what they call peer pressure... ya think? I was a willing victim of it; I folded easily and took a drag. I don’t think I inhaled the first couple times, but then I did. I coughed a bit and got a super head rush – which could have also been due to the immense alcohol I already had in my system. By the end of the night, I was rather enjoying it – look at me – a pro smoker! If Jim was a cartoon, he would have been emitting fire from his ears and nostrils by this point. I was completely enjoying watching him being so protective of my well being. It was delicious.

Jim had made his way on to the couch, semi-conscious. One of his mates approached me on the dance floor and proceeded to shove his tongue down my throat. I’m still not exactly sure how that had all come about, but I kissed him back. It was like a natural reflex, but then I quickly pulled away. I was still trying to wrap my head around the feelings of being totally intoxicated as well; it was nothing like I had experienced before. Dizzy, horny, sad, happy, angry, drowsy, confused... all at the same time. His mate knew that Jim and I had some kind of un-definable relationship going on, so I have no idea what possessed him to do what he did. Jim saw the entire ordeal – the ONE thing I wished he didn’t see me do that night!

He managed to prop himself up on the couch, like a corpse rising from his grave. “Fuck you. How could you do this to me? Fuck off!” The words were like a knife stabbing me in the chest after every slurred phrase. I started to feel sick to my stomach, but surprisingly not from the alcohol. We started to have one of those monumental alcohol-fuelled couple’s fights, but then he quickly realized that not everyone was entirely privy to our situation. He escorted me into his mate’s bedroom and we garbled intoxicated insults at each other for some time, like we both had frontal lobotomies; it was way too much drama, even for us! It was ridiculous. We were hurling hurtful words back and forth, he called me a slut at one point, and I rebutted by calling him a spineless bastard.

The next thing I knew, we were in his mate’s bed, having sex – drunken clumsy make-up sex, in which we exchanged mutual proclamations of undying affection throughout. I said it already and I’ll say it again... that entire day was thoroughly ridiculous.