The Costume Party

"Of course I'll be there. I wouldn't miss your party for the world."

She did not answer and something made me probe further.

"Is it because you don't want me to come alone this year? Is that it?"

The reluctant nod over her endive salad told me that I had struck a minor chord.

"Well don't worry. I won't be."

I winced at the thought of my chubby neighbor, Stanley Drake, who rather than stay home and cry because his wife had left him for a saxophone player, agreed to accompany me to Nora and Don's party. Still I felt there was something unspoken lurking behind those pastel lips of hers. Suddenly she looked at me strangely, her long, well-manicured fingers playing absently with a blonde curl at the nape of her neck.

"It's more than that, Sara," she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. "Don is bringing some new people from the office. And Ziggy Doyle is coming this year too. I'm, I'm- well- a little nervous about it."

"Oh really! I would love to see Ziggy again. He was a good friend. I…"

"I don't want to talk about him," she said sharply. "You know that we're always the same people and that makes our parties more like reunions, don't you think? And, Sara, you brought us together, Don and I. How could we not have you there?" Biting her lip and reaching into a mesh case for a cigarette, she added quickly: "Of course, in your case, now it's- it's different, isn't it?"