“Of course not, dearest. I’d already arranged my schedules to be clear throughout the month of Kattar’s due date. I wasn’t going to risk my water breaking during a meeting or any such nonsense.”

“Woah, Kat, like, when was the last time you got your hair cut? You’re starting to look like emo Rapunzel.”

I drink a cup of punch that tastes like shaved chocolate and coffee ice cream.

Kitty Kat’s favorite, of course.

I mull over hints of vanilla and wonder if this tingling on my tongue is an extract or Kahlua, hoping there’s nothing in here to keep me from being able to excuse myself and drive home as soon as I possibly can without offending anyone.

…Or Mrs. Moon anyway. 

Kattar can deal with it.

1 more hour and then it will be acceptable to make my escape.

What I wouldn’t give for enough shamelessness to take French leave.

“You’re just jealous because you look like you’re homeless every time you miss a cut,” Kattar teases, running his fingers through the end of his luxurious mane with a laugh so glittering it hurts.

I want to disappear.

Today feels familiar.

This must be the third cookie I’ve eaten and for the life of me, I’m still not sure what it tastes like. 

The only difference is that today, Holy Star is back from Panama.

What a waste of money I am. 

The only difference is that today, no one cares about my presence. I’m not a topic of conversation, or even a passing thought.

Each of these artisan savoiardi costs as much as a gallon of gas, someone jokes, and I pretend I think tonight is funny.

Not like anyone can hear me anyway.

I prefer it…I prefer it that way.

At least three different conversations are going on at the same time, and I feel a million miles away, though I’m just two feet from where the guys are talking. 5 feet away from where Mrs. Moon and her friends are simultaneously discussing their children and tonight's menu-

Don’t tell me there’s gonna be a dinner too…

And from the sounds of it, we’ll be doing nothing less than eating gold. Actual literal gold.

I should feel more shocked than I do, but I don’t.

What could possibly surprise me now?

It must be nice to know someone thinks you’re this special. Worth this much.

I’m staring blankly at Mrs. Moon’s gigantic TV so people will assume I’m doing something. The screen bleeds home videos of my Kitty Kat as a toddler, looking up at the camera his mother is holding so much more steadily than anyone in my family ever seemed to.

Andrew still has shaky tapes of our birthday parties in his bedroom closet…

“So what did Mommy’s Kitty Kat tell his teacher then?” the video is saying.

“I told her, ‘It is true. I’m not making it up! You can find it. My mommy’s magazine is listed in the phone book.’ Because Mrs. Alan thought I was lying when I read my report on ‘What My Parents Do.’ Because I said you were lady Tony Stark and owned a big company and talked to super famous people every day.”

His eyes are shining like he’s going to cry.

In the video I mean.

Tonight he’s laughing so vibrantly…

You’d think he didn’t care that we were supposed to be together, right now. Not here laughing a lie…

Or maybe he really is enjoying himself.

Maybe this is good enough for him - better even - than what he expected from me.

That works too, I guess. If he’s happy. If he doesn’t care…

Sorry.

It feels a million miles away.

“Alicia is so dressed up tonight you’d think it was her party,” Ryan is laughing. Not at me. It’s not at me.

The only one making me into a mockery tonight is my ‘boyfriend.’ My  ‘love.’ 

I see him glance over his shoulder at me with a raise of his eyebrows, chuckling to Ryan, “Huh, I guess you’re right.”

My cheeks hurt from suppressing the fire.

I want to boil over, and that angry cry works its way to my eyes again as I avoid looking in Kattar’s direction as if that’ll make a difference. As if he’ll see me or feel guilty - anything-

It’s one thing to keep secrets, sir…

“You know Kat…if you two for real aren’t going out, I might know a guy…,” Ryan is smiling mischievously.

It’s one thing to ignore me…

“Don’t you dare try to set her up with somebody,” Utkarsh interjects quickly, frowning big-brother-ishly, and glancing in my direction like he’s worried about me.

“What do you mean somebody? I was talking about myself,” Ryan laughs again, shaking his head, as Holy Star sighs:

“Seriously, Ryan.”

But it’s another thing altogether…

“-Hey, Kat may be immune to beauty but I’m sure not.” Ryan sticks his tongue out at the rest of them as if daring them to make him feel shame. “Going once, going twice? Okay, I’m gonna go talk to her.”

He stands up ostentatiously, though I think he’s just joking, just to get a reaction out of Kat, but Utkarsh yanks him straight back down and puts him in a headlock.

“Go ahead and try. You’ll just set yourself up for disappointment,” Kattar laughs with a casual wave of his hand.

To do that.

To care this little. About me. Or to pretend to-

-Does this even count as pretending, or just heartlessness?-

-Whatever the reason. Like I’m some throw-away. Like I’m something he can pass off to the first person who’s curious about trying their luck.

“Is this advice given from experience?” Ryan is teasing, grinning roguishly as Kattar rolls his eyes.

“Lise rejects a lot of numbers, and you don’t exactly have the best track record with her if you remember 2014…”

“Dude, I was like 19,” Ryan crosses his arms with legitimate exasperation this time, leaning back in his seat like a pouty grade schooler. “I’m not that tactless anymore.”

“No one is a good judge of their own tactlessness,” Utkarsh razzes him, eyes laughing. “And you are apparently a worse judge than most.”

“I mean, you're not exactly ‘maxed out’ in social discretion,” Kattar grins, as Ryan rolls his eyes, “Especially not when it comes to talking to girls.”

I guess it takes one to know one.

“Did your teacher check the phone book?” Mrs. Moon is saying on the screen, changing the camera angle so she can squat down next to Kattar now, and he debates whether to look at the lens or at her.

“Yeah, and then I told her she could ask you to prove it when you came to pick me up, but she said she didn’t want to ask you to prove it!”

“Well, she certainly didn’t ask Mommy any questions,” Mrs. Moon grins wryly, almost sarcastically. “I wonder why. It must be because my smart little boy is so good at explaining things.”

She kisses Kattar’s face, and he clings to her like he’s holding on for dear life and will never let go.

I guess some things never change.

He can let go of a lot of things, give away, or throw away a lot of things, but I guess his mother comes first.

Maybe that’s normal. I don’t know at this point.

I try to tune out that thought - the TV- the guys joking and laughing.

I just want to go home. Just 35 minutes and then I can go home.

And scream into my pillow. 

Imagine all the harsh things, and the angry things, the bitter things, and the honest things that I’ll never say to Kattar’s face.

Because he’s…

What?

Delicate, just like me.

But it seems he’s decided to protect himself by swelling up into this persona like a poisonous pufferfish.

Careless that I’m right here and it hurts.

Fine. Bleed me out.

See how much of me is left to love you when tonight is over.

The noise is starting to make me feel almost dizzy, all in moderate tones and murmurs, like an ocean of festivity and false fronts seeping disrespectfully into my skin and burning me from the inside out.

My head is pounding. But I’m not drunk. Almost wish I was.

Glancing over at the kitchen, I can hear Mrs. Moon laughingly repeating Kattar’s birth story that I’ve heard at least a dozen times, as Jun listens with genuine interest and Daphne continues to be…herself.

“And then he was born with all that black hair and those eyes. I said to my nurse, ‘13 hours of labor, and I’ve birthed a black cat! Isn’t this some strange luck?’ My little star has always liked to play dress up, and he was born masquerading as a bad omen.’”

Mrs. Moon’s laughter is almost more musical than usual, as Kattar and his friends look over in the direction of the older women and roll their eyes like a bunch of high schoolers. I hear Utkarsh muttering, “Why do moms always think birthdays are a good time to repeat all the nitty-gritty details of your birth?”

Holy Star shakes his hair sagely, his face accented by the wry smile standing out in the middle of his blondy-brown five-o’clock shadow, “There are much more uncomfortable portions of your creation they could be discussing, man. I think you should count yourself lucky.”

Kattar and Ryan both cringe, but Utkarsh rolls his eyes again, waving one hand, “IVF. I’m what you would call an ‘immaculate conception.’”

“You’re far below my expectations for the second coming,” Kattar jabs and Utkarsh tosses his head, diva-ishly.

“That’s really more of your problem than mine, isn’t it? I did not come to bring peace but something something something…,” He motions for everyone to fill in the blanks as he forgets the rest of the bible verse, but Ryan interjects, finally finding a chance to get his own back after being the butt of most of tonight’s joking thus far.

“Is that your way of trying to justify the chaos you create every time you sing, or drive?” 

“I’m not supposed to be good at driving! I’m Asian!” Utkarsh laughs.

“So is Kattar!” Ryan counters, motioning to Kat with a vehemence as an almost nervous expression overtakes Kattar’s face.

I see just the tail of Mrs. Moon’s gaze glancing over in the guys’ direction so quickly that I’d almost think I imagined it.

But there’s something in the somehow multiplied perfection and poise of her smile, the saccharine swing of her voice and graceful elegance that says it wasn’t just-

Some kind of malevolent fantasy-

And I know that I shouldn’t- I really shouldn’t-

Read into it.

But it feels like a haunted image. So pretty when I look at it from the angle I’ve always seen it from, but when I start to look at it from Kattar’s point of view…

She becomes a fallen angel.