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A Tale for Thanksgiving Eve
The biggest party night of the year was a critical moment in my toxic relationship.
Before opening my sticky eyes I tasted the dryness of my mouth and felt the tenderness of my palms. The heat of my boyfriend’s body pressed against my rigid back and my neck tightened as I took in the unfamiliar space — a living room, its walls lined with bookshelves sagging under the weight of vinyl records. Weak winter sunlight grazed the windows as I fumbled for my cell phone, which rested on the coffee table next to the sofa I was on.
A torrent of scenes from the previous night played across my memory. We had eaten dinner at a pizza place, where I chewed silently as my boyfriend, Collin, talked to his sister and his brother-in-law. The night moved on to a grungy dive bar in his hometown. I perched on a bar stool, playing photo hunt by myself while the trio ignored me. Downing drinks to quiet the discomfort in my mind. Gradually being included in the conversation as our group became more intoxicated. My boyfriend’s sister — a former close friend — continuously lobbed vicious insults in my direction. Facing her with a quiet reserve and saying, “I’m not here for you. I’m here for your brother.”
Outside, approaching the car we arrived in, her verbal attacks escalated to physical. She swung at me, her tiny…
