Everyone had broken into clusters. Abe and Omar hunched over one corner of the table. Omar’s sleeves were rolled, and he raised his clenched fist to knock it once, twice, three times in the air—like he was raging against the dark night beyond our skylight. Abe grinned. I heard him say, “Kay La Styma?” and Omar put his head in his hands, his whole body shaking with laughter. He raised his head and said, “Qué lá-stima!” This was a phrase he’d already taught me. They were talking about everything going wrong.

Ted was flirting with Stella on the couch and she was letting him. He pointed at his mouth and then the bottom of his foot. I heard him say, “For absolutely fucking real,” and then she laughed so loudly that I knew she’d forced it. I saw Abe turn to look at her. Stan and April sat at the other end of the table. Stan was holding his belly and April was taking small forkfuls of turkey and stuffing from his plate. So she was that kind of vegetarian. I watched without anyone watching me.

Ted got up from his seat and started to impersonate a mechanical bull he’d once ridden. “Patrick Swayze was there,” he said. “Cheering me on like crazy.” Stella sat with her legs crossed and a smirk on her face.

April took Omar’s rum back to the couch and set it down in front of Ted. “Looks like you might need this,” she said.

“I need it,” said Stella, reaching.

They took a round of shots, and then Ted said he would show us a magic trick. He fetched his pan of brownies and set them on the coffee table. I sat down slowly, careful not to lose my balance or show how hard I was trying not to lose it.

“For this particular trick,” Ted said, “I will need an assistant.”

“Oh, Lord,” said Stella. “Anybody want a smoke?”

“What’s that?” he said. “You want the job?”

“Stella’s playing assistant?” Abe said. “I wouldn’t mind seeing this.”

“Oh, fuck you,” Stella said. “Pour me another shot.”

“I’ll also need some kind of cape,” Ted said. “Or any kind of fabric.”

I leaned over to whisper in Abe’s ear: “I knew a woman who made capes.” I covered my mouth with my hand, but he smelled it. I could see his face fall. His eyes went wide. “You’re drunk,” he said.

“Don’t worry,” I said, shaking my head. “You shouldn’t worry.”

He touched my wrist, but I didn’t look up. I kept shaking my head. I kept my face down. I could feel my eyes getting wet, and I didn’t want him to see. I didn’t want to see him.

“Hey,” he said. His voice was hard. “Look at me.”

I looked at him.

“This is a problem.”