Apparently, we’re just going rounds here.
“Green,” Marcy says quickly, a flush of red coating her cheeks with realizing she’s just up and said that. “I’m sorry. I should’ve given you guys a chance.”
Colton chuckles with a shake of his head. “It’s all right. That’s the point of this game. Say it if you know it.”
“Nobody established what happens with who loses,” Devon interrupts, appearing at the end of the table.
I look up at him. Devon’s face is twisted in amusement as he clutches the back of the head table’s chair.
“I know,” Marcy chirps. “What if the losers have to go to goodwill and wear whatever the winners buy?”
Everyone laughs, even Devon. I watch as Devon pulls out the chair and sits down, his foot brushing against mine with how close he is now. I pull my leg away, pretending I hadn’t felt his. Acknowledging anything like that is a bad thing. Mostly because if I do, my mind tends to wander and allow myself to daydream of things that can’t possibly happen. I have to remind myself constantly that he has a girlfriend, and I have to be okay with that. I’m the one who fucked our relationship up, after all. He has every right to have moved on. I have to be okay with that, even if it fucking sucks.
“I’m playing,” Devon says and reaches for the piece of paper Colton is still holding onto so he can write his own name. “Losers get to be clowns.”
I smile while the other three laugh and then look at the couch. But Owen is nowhere in sight. I don’t remember hearing a door shut, so that means he’s on the couch. Is he passed out?
“All right, what’s my favorite color?” Devon asks.
I look up at him and catch his eyes. I feel my heart skip a beat, and then I turn away. The last I knew, he wasn’t one to change his favorite color very often. “Green,” I say automatically.
“Yes. Gracie, it’s your turn.”
I look at Marcy. She’s staring right at me. I can’t tell what she’s thinking but the guilt twists again. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I know Devon’s favorite color and not hers. I am a shitty friend.
I don’t stop looking at Marcy while I speak. “What’s my favorite color?”
“Black,” Marcy states flatly without even blinking.
Correct. I don’t say it. I don’t know. That’s not fair. If I don’t know shit, she shouldn’t either to make this fair.
“What’s my middle name?” Marcy questions, her eyes not leaving mine.
I should know this. I used to. I don’t, though. It’s not coming, and all I can do is sit in silence as we stare at one another.
“It’s Martha,” Landon finally says, breaking the tense silence between Marcy and me.
“What’s mine?” I ask, my voice cracking just slightly.
“Hilary,” Marcy replies without missing a beat. “How old was I when I first smoked a cigarette?”
We did that together, but the ages blur together in my mind. I know we did it together in middle school. That, I know because I stood behind the school in a little alcove to keep hidden from any onlookers who would rat us out. But I don’t know the age. The numbers are molded together.
“Thirteen,” Landon pipes up.
“We did it together,” Marcy points out, reminding me of exactly what I knew and didn’t know simultaneously. “Who would I invite to my fantasy dinner party?”
“All right, enough,” Devon interjects. “We’re supposed to be playing together. Not just the two of you.”
Marcy glowers at me for a moment before raising her head, shoulders tensing as she pulls her eyes away from me. “Devon’s right. I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. Let’s play you guys.”
They do. They laugh. All I can do is sit here. I don’t even answer Devon’s questions. Surprisingly, Landon knows quite a bit about Devon. Then again, I don’t know why that’s really surprising. Landon hung out in our circle for the longest time in high school. Of course, he’d learn about Devon. It also helped that Devon was practically family, the same as Owen. You get to know people when they spend nearly every single day at a house you’re constantly at. Because for Landon, my parents’ house was the go-to house. They are Landon’s grandparents, after all.
The next couple of hours tick away, and I barely say a word. I don’t know shit, and it’s pretty damn obvious. I barely even know anything about my own nephew. I know more about Devon than I do Marcy, and with the game, I learn that I’ve also lost a lot of knowledge about him. His favorite color and food are one thing, but there’s so much different then what I used to know.
The stupid game makes me realize just how useless I am. Nine months sober, I haven’t even bothered trying to learn about them and how I should have been. I’ve been focused on my sobriety, sticking to it. I’ve been told that’s all I need to worry about.
I see more of the picture now, though. About the fact that alongside my sobriety, I should’ve been getting to know my best friend better and relearning who Devon is and probably even Owen too. What about my parents?