With the combination of snow arriving early that year, the short notice, and the intimidating theme, especially for my MIT friends, only about seven people came to the party, all artists except Richard, who I pestered until he reassured me he would be there even though there was no way I could get him into a dress. He borrowed spandex pants and a shiny gold lamé blouse from me instead, too tight for him to button so he wore it open and, as I suspected, he had a six-pack without even trying. I hadn’t seen Richard and Lenora together since the summer, so it was fun to talk and dance, while I took pictures to show for class. For once, I didn’t have that nagging feeling that Ralph was waiting for me at home while I was out having fun. People ended up sleeping over that night, a couple of friends on the couch, Lenora next to me on my bed, Richard next to her.

My phone rang while I was working in the lab the following Monday afternoon, and when I saw on caller ID that it was Richard, I figured he just wanted to do lunch.

“Hi, I already ate,” I answered.

“There’s something I want to talk to you about.”

My hand quivered at the dread of what I knew he was about to say, even though the conscious part of my brain still denied it.

“Lenora and I started seeing each other,” he continued, and, as if to absolve her: “I was the one who initiated.”

An image flashed in my head of the two of them leaving my party together, and my mind picked up from after they were out of my sight, how they probably had brunch somewhere and wanted to continue their bed-sharing from the night before, so they went to the closest apartment—Lenora’s—with its red-and-orange flower-print sheets and raw wood floor I knew so well. Then they took off each other’s clothes, not the party ones, the ones they changed into before they left, button-down for Richard and that geometric shift for her, and I didn’t want to imagine their naked bodies but I did, Lenora getting to experience what I’d fantasized about for months, even though she had expressly said she wouldn’t see him because of how I felt, even though that meant she’d considered it, which should have been a sign.

“I need time to think,” I told Richard before I hung up.