The Christmas Party

I woke up late, just because I didn’t want to get up yet. I didn’t want to face the day. I didn’t want to tolerate Dana for hours on end, listening to her consistent prattling about how she just bought some ridiculously expensive piece of art or whatever. I toyed with the idea of calling in sick, but that would just make it seem like I was avoiding Dana. She would think she actually got to me, which she did but there was no way she needed to know that. She would think that her words mattered in some way. I rolled out of bed just under an hour late and padded into the bathroom, preparing myself for yet another long, boring day. I loved my job, okay, I didn’t. At all. It was boring, and simplistic. A trained chimp could do my job.

Dragging my feet, I showered and dressed in appropriate office clothes, and sat down at my kitchen table with a breakfast of Cheerios and toast. It was so quiet in our house without Kellin and his band traipsing through with heavy steps and loud, obnoxious laughing. I loved the rest of Sleeping With Sirens, they were like brothers to me. They cared about me, and kept an eye on Kellin for me while they were on the road. I didn’t like when Kellin was gone, sure, but it wasn’t just him that I missed. I missed all of them.

Obviously, I missed my fiancé. Even more so when he doesn’t call me back. Kellin hadn’t called once, and I didn’t want to seem like one of those needy girlfriends who called consistently when their boyfriends were away. But I really needed a pick-me-up. I needed to hear from him, and I needed him to tell me that he was going to be home soon. I needed him to promise he’d see me tomorrow.

I wanted to call him, or for him to call me.

I didn’t, however, want to wake him up since he probably partied pretty hard the night before. Yesterday was the last day of his tour, the last show of the year, and he was more than likely suffering from the “Hangover Of The Year.”

“Why does my boyfriend have to be a goddamn rockstar?” I growled, throwing my toast and the rest of my milk-logged Cheerios into the trash angrily. I wasn’t hungry anymore, which happened when I over-thought. I over-thought a lot. When I overthink, I lose track of what’s happening around me. Kellin often gets irritated with me, when I miss meals or when I zone out when he’s talking. Especially when he’s talking.

I packed all of my stuff for work and left the empty house behind, locking up and praying that when I got home at 5, Kellin’s stuff would be left in the front hall and he’d be showering, singing at the top of his lungs or making a mess of my perfectly clean kitchen. Unlikely, but a good dream nonetheless.

Once inside the air-conditioned office, Dana already was waiting for me at her desk, new pumps on her dainty feet and a skirt too short to be appropriate riding up her thighs. She was so gorgeous, her eyes bright and her hair pristine. She was just giving me that look, that wonderfully pompous look that she wore so well. I knew just by looking at her that she knew I was late. She’d probably been counting the seconds since when I was supposed to clock in. She probably had a tally sheet somewhere of all the times I’d been late.

“Leyla, Leyla, Leyla,” she shook her head, as if I’d disappointed her somehow.

“Yes, Dana?”

“You’re late, and you know I have to let the boss know that you’re late,” she said with what sounded like triumph in her voice. I laughed, tossing my head back and standing up. I left her, striding over to “the boss,” who was lounged against the wall beside the water cooler, nursing a cup of coffee.

“Hey Mathias, I just wanted to let you know I was a little bit late today. You know how it is, had a late start and then everything went wrong from there. Dana thought I should let you know,” I informed him, nudging him with gently with my elbow. He chuckled.

“Thank you for your honesty, Leyla,” he replied, nodding at Dana. I skipped back and fell into my computer chair, rolling backwards a few inches.

“Anything else?”

“Why do you always have to be such a bitch?” she asked, sounding genuinely offended. I shook my head.

“You know, Dana, I tried to like you. I really did. But you’ve done nothing but insult me and hit on Kellin since we met, so maybe that’s why I’m a bitch,” I finally snapped, glaring at her.

“Someone as gorgeous and talented as Kellin deserves a lot better than you. You’re a mess, you’re constantly late, you have no idea what a nail file is. You have no significant skills or talents. You have no friends, except for that whiny bitch, Sydney. Kellin always looks so miserable when you’re together. Besides that, he’s way out of your league, Leyla!” she spat. “He’s a god, and you’re just a fat, sniveling peasant. You should treat him like the prince he is, but you’re so needy that he has to attend to your every desire when he’s home. He deserves someone like me. I would treat him how he needs to be treated. I would please him how you’ve never pleased him before!”

I couldn’t come up with a response, her words sinking into my skin while she stood abruptly and marched away from the cubicle. I stared at my trainers and scuffed them back and forth over the worn carpet beneath me. I wanted her to be wrong. I wanted to scream that she was wrong, that Kellin and I were perfect for each other, that we were made for one another. But the worst part of all was that she was right for the most part. I always believed deep down that he was too good for me.

Dana didn’t return to her desk for half an hour, and I didn’t do any work for that whole time. My hands were shaking too much to even attempt to type. As she returned, I stood and picked up my stuff. I hated that she had affected me but I couldn’t do anything about it now. I just had to get away from her. I rushed away, finding Mathias two feet from the spot he’d been earlier.

“I don’t feel good, Mathias. Female problems, you know, and I think I’m gonna have to take a sick day.”

He wrinkled his nose at the mention of “female problems” and ushered me towards the elevators. I waved as I stepped onto it and he waved back as the doors slid shut. I let out a sigh, a single tear escaping and rolling down my cheek out of frustration. I hated Dana. I hated her so fucking much. If she were to get mauled by a pack of rabid wolves and then tossed to sea, I would never mourn her.

I drove home slowly, angrily fighting off tears that welled unexpectedly and threatened to fall, chasing each other down my cheeks like a game of tag. I hated crying almost as much as I hated Dana. I was taught that crying was a weakness. When you have big brothers, like I do, you can’t show emotions or else you’re PMSing. You can’t be weak, not in my family. It’s not an option. You’re either strong or you get out.

Once home, just an hour after I left, I stripped down to my tank top and underwear and crawled into my bed, laptop open with the sleep playlist Kellin made me before he left for tour the year I’d moved in. I closed iTunes, and opened Netflix. I scrolled through all of the recently added lists until I found their new additions of classic Disney movies, like Pocahontas and Dumbo. I smiled into my pillows with the blanket pulled up over my head, and started up Pocahontas first.

Four movies, three naps, one short venture out into the kitchen for a snack, and a pee break later, I was curled up in the same position, blanket up over my head while I cuddled Kellin’s pillow, watching The Tigger Movie. It was nearing midnight, which meant Kellin would be home in a few hours. I watched as Tigger tried to find his family, tears reappearing as he told his friends “TTFE, Ta Ta For EVER!” and stormed out of his home.

The door opened and I lifted my head just enough to see the doorway, where a ragged, tired looking Kellin Quinn stood.

“Hey baby.”