“Not that kind of Special K. I’m talking Klonopin, not Ketamine or the cereal. Klonopin is the only thing my psychiatrist has found that helps me keep the anxiety down and hamsters quiet so I can get some sleep.”
“I can attest to that,” Damian said. “Before he got on Special K—it’s our little nickname for it—he would stay up for 24 hours straight because his brain wouldn’t shut up.”
“I blame my parents. They raised me to be a neurotic New Yorker. This,” he said with a wide motion to himself, “is the result of their neuroses combined with my own.”
Kevin and Damian started laughing, so Kirk and I joined in, but I don’t think Kirk and I got the joke. Not really.
“So, honey, if this keeps up, talk to your psychiatrist. Maybe Special K is right for you?”
“Yeah,” Damian chimed in. “I’m a lightweight. I only take Wellbutrin for mild anxiety and depression. I wasn’t sure it was working until one day Sarah, she works in the library. She’s around here somewhere…” Damian looked around the party to see if he could find her. He finally pointed out a woman wearing a lime-green Christmas tree sweater. “Well, Sarah, she comes up to me and is like, ‘Damian, has something changed? You’ve been so happy lately. You haven’t gone off on anyone in days.’ And I was like, you know what, it’s true. That’s when I knew it was working.”
There was something so normal and yet so odd listening to two men discuss their therapists, psychiatrists, and which drugs they were taking. Kirk and I got an impromptu lecture on the benefits of modern psychopharmacology in between courses.
Once dinner was over, it was time for games. I wasn’t much in the mood for games, but I got dragged into them. Of course, everyone wanted to play charades. I’ve been with too many theater companies who take charades way too seriously. Thankfully, this group didn’t seem like the type that would critique your acting abilities if you couldn’t figure out how to get everyone to guessThe Assassination of Jesse James by the Coward Robert Fordin thirty seconds using no words.
All the topics were holiday songs, so they weren’t too difficult. When it was my turn, I stepped up and took a slip of paper from the Santa hat. I unfolded it and silently read, “Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer.”
Bethany shouted, “Go!” as she flipped over the one-minute sand timer.
I pointed to my nose.
A half dozen people yelled out the answer. I took my bow and sat back on the couch.
“That wasn’t fair,” Kirk said as I nuzzled beside him. “You get Rudolph, and I got ‘Children, Go Where I Send Thee.’”
“Quit your griping,” Damian said from the other team. “I’m still surprised you don’t know your good old Christmas spirituals.”
Kevin was next. He drew a slip of paper, scrunched up his nose and he said, “This will be fun.”
“No talking,” Leslie barked, which garnered a laugh from the room.
“Go!” Bethany yelled again.
Kevin started doing something that looked vaguely like YMCA. People on his team shouted out song titles, and he got more and more confused and aggravated.
“Time!” Bethany yelled. “The other team gets a chance to guess for the point.”
They looked to our team captain, a history teacher I honestly hadn’t talked to. He looked to the rest of us before saying, “We have no idea.”
Kevin stared at us and let out a slight huff. “Hanukkah, Oh Hanukkah!”
“Are you kidding me?” Damian said. “How was that Hanukkah?”
“I was trying to be a menorah,” Kevin replied. The entire room busted out laughing. Thankfully, Kevin took it well and laughed along. Before long, the game was called a tie, and both sides won. It was a holiday party, after all. Everyone got small goodie bags to go for winning. Clearly, Leslie and Bethany had planned this outcome from the beginning.
We retrieved our coats, said our goodbyes, and headed back into the frosty night air. It was almost midnight. I shivered against the cold.
“Let’s huddle together, conserve heat,” Kirk suggested.
I snuggled close. I had to take three steps for every one of Kirk’s. He was tall. You don’t realize how tall someone is until you try to keep up with them. December had blown in, and the wind was howling through the streets. Whenever we came to one of the west-to-east cross streets, the wind would barrel down on us from the Hudson. We sped through intersections to get to the cover of buildings again along the sidewalks.
I pushed the door open to the Manhattan Plaza and held it for Kirk.
“Brr,“ I said with a shake as I stepped into the heated building. “It’s elf-ing cold out there.”
“I know,” Kirk said. “I always forget how cold it can get when the winter winds wind their way through the city.”
We headed to the elevator and made our way upstairs.
