Eyes Wide Open

Story Sent in by Nate:

Julianne and I had been dating for a few months when a friend of mine invited us to a costume party, in which everyone was required to wear a mask.

"This sounds stupid," Julianne told me when I asked her if she wanted to go. "Sounds like a great idea for bunch of little kids."

"It could be fun. It's different," I said to her.

"Then you go. I'll do something else."

This wasn't her putting a guilt trip on me. We did separate things on a regular basis. She'd go out with her friends, I'd go out with my pals, and so on. It was important to me that she have fun with and without me, so although I'd miss her at the party, I didn't feel very guilty about going.

My friend's apartment was not nearly big enough for the scores of people, bumping and sliding against each other, in every corner of every room. It was dark, music blasted, and it was impossible to be heard without yelling your words at the person right next to you. It was great. I thought, "It's a good thing that Julianne didn't come. Where would she have fit?"

There were a lot of people there who I hadn't seen in a long time. We did our best to catch up, but after a few hours, alcohol made that more and more difficult to accomplish. I didn't drink much, but the soon devolved into a rowdy blur.

There was a messy conga line filled with people dancing forwards and backwards. There was a bobbing-for-oranges contest. There was a strobe light that flashed different colors. There were three people in a corner: a girl in a hooded cloak and a swan-like, feathered mask, a guy in black and red face paint, and another guy in a white mask with a black handprint on it. The swan girl made out with face paint guy while handprint mask man kissed the back of her neck. It was, without a doubt, the craziest party I had ever been to.

I made it home close to 3:30 in the morning, and collapsed onto my bed.

A little after four, I woke up. Someone was opening my apartment door. My first thoughts were that it was Julianne. We had keys to each other's places.

"You're here late," I somehow mumbled out, "Had a good night?" She stumbled into my room and turned the light on.

Her face was smeared with makeup. Or face paint. In her hand was a swan mask.

I sat up on the bed. She sat next to me and cried her eyes out. I didn't say anything until she quieted down. Then, I said, "You can stay the night on my couch. We'll gather up your things in the morning and that'll be that."

"You're breaking up with me?" she asked, incredulous.

I replied, "What did you expect?"

She cried more, and I eventually set her up on the couch. She must have repeated, "I love you," about fifty times, but I didn't hear any of them. In the morning, I woke up first, bagged up all of her things that she had at my place in a trash bag, and set it by the door.

When she woke up, she asked if we could talk, and I told her to leave. We haven't spoken since.