I found a chair in the corner. Placing my bag near the sliding glass door that led to the backyard, I eased myself into the recliner and tried to not look guilty or out of place. I hadn’t been to any social events for weeks but I couldn’t let Roger down on his twenty-first. He didn’t need me to be there but I knew my presence was important to him.

It was early and the dozen or so people, more family than friends, mingled freely. Was I supposed to be doing something? The clusters of conversation seemed to exist behind invisible walls. I could picture myself shouting and screaming—all the while being completely unnoticed. The rest of the guests were smiling and laughing and I desperately wanted to feel what they were feeling but instead I felt isolated and alone on a very sad, very small, island.

Sinking back further into the cushions, I wondered if anyone would get mad if I started to read.

Roger appeared like a jack shooting out of his box, all energy and drunken happiness. “Great party, huh?”

“Yeah.”