I Hear You

21- The Christmas Party

<Matthew Erwin>

After frantically helping set up the food for the party, 7 PM drew near on the clock. Instead of being ten minutes late, we were about fifty minutes early. I'd like to applaud Lewis for kind of listening what we supposed to do.

That was sarcasm by the way. I'm not mad at him though. Just lightly annoyed when he kept crying in my head that I was late.

One by one, couples and singles began to arrive. Most of the men wore fat boy sweaters or dress shirts with Christmas ties. All of the women wore a somewhat Christmas-related dress. It was a typical Christmas party.

My job has a Christmas party every year as well, but I don't think it gets this classy. Mine is probably just a bunch of drunk co-workers groaning about their failed marriages or their kids wanting to take soccer for another season. Being a grownup sounds boring and expensive. Too bad I'm a slowly becoming grownup.

I continued holding the bouquet for that pregnant lady. I feel bad for not remembering her name. I think it started with a B?

Lewis handed me a glass (like I said, classy!) of eggnog. He snickered as I sipped on it. I squinted at him suspiciously, "you didn't drug this, did you?" I said jokingly.

"No, but it looks like you're drinking seed," he giggled, gesturing at me.

Wh-what? What the hell? Is-is he drunk?

"Are you," I stared at him skeptically, lowering my voice, "are you drunk?"

He chortled, swinging his head back, laughing hard as if I told him a funny story. "Possibly, now what is this milk-seed stuff?" He swayed, eyeing the glass of eggnog.

How the hell did he get drunk? He's nineteen! Do they just let him drink champagne whenever he wants? I mean, I know he's from the UK, but damn!

I wrapped an arm around his shoulder to keep him from swaying, "Lewis, it's called eggnog, it has eggs and cream in it," I told him. There's no point in telling him anything, he probably won't remember if he's hammered.

I set my drink down, realizing there's probably alcohol in it. I took his glass away before he could inhale it. He doesn't need any more alcohol. For the way he drinks, I'm surprised he doesn't need his stomach pumped all the goddamn time.

I guided him to a table with no one sitting at. Hopefully, I can hide that he's drunk.

"There's my favorite couple!" The pregnant woman shouted as she approached us. She had a woman standing next to her. Her baby bump gets bigger and bigger every time I see her.

I laughed awkwardly. Why is she so loud?

She pulled me out of my chair and embraced me harshly. 

My god, she's squeezing me to death.

"It's nice to see you again," I squeaked out.

"Oh look at you, Mr. Manners," she cackled.

I handed her the flowers and she cried. 

Yes, that's right. She cried. What I've learned about pregnant women is that they have mood swings. They are remarkably emotional.

The girl that tailed behind her patted her back, reassuring her.

"Would you like me to get you some eggnog?" I said sympathetically.

The woman next to her, "no, Belka can't have any, there's a crapload of vodka in it," she gently sat Belka down into a seat next to drunk Lewis.