“We are so fucked.” Jonesy sags.
“I thought this was going to be the party house,” Bramms complains. “It’s like the sad and depressing house.”
“Eat some turkey,” I sigh. “We need to bulk up for the games.”
5
ELLIE
“Snickerdoodle! You’re home!” My mom sweeps me up into her arms and kisses my face. “Ooh, I’m so happy to have my little girl here with me. What time do you get off work tomorrow? You’re not going to work as late as you did today, are you? We need to get the Christmas decorations up. Your brothers are going to be in town tomorrow! I’m trying to convince them to stay here. They can bring all of their friends. I can make wolves in a blanket.”
“Wolves in a what?”
“It’s just pigs in a blanket with some spicy dipping sauce and yellow food coloring and everything-bagel seasoning.” My mom beams at me.
“You made those for my bingo night.” Granny Murray stomps by, copy ofSports Betting Weeklyunder her arm. “They look like uncircumcised penises with an STD. You can’t be serving those to people. Certainly not millionaire hockey players, especially not if you’re trying to marry your daughters off to one of them. Kathy practically had an orgasm then a heart attack when she saw one. Slapped the dementia right out of Candice too.” Gran flicks on a sausage.
“No one’s marrying any NHL players,” I say desperately.
And definitely not coaching them, right?I think hysterically.
I feel sick. I must have dreamed it, right? Right. I’m not going to coach a bunch of NHL players. I can’t. I won’t. I shan’t.
“I’m just going to go wash my face, then I’ll help you with dinner,” I tell my mom.
And scream into a pillow and seriously contemplate my life choices.
Too bad in the Clarke household you are never, ever alone.
“You sleep with one of them yet?” Granny Murray whispers as she follows me upstairs. It’s the same question every time I come home from work.
“I’m not sleeping with them—they’re… coworkers…”Technically my employees now…
I need a pretzel with beer cheese and a Benadryl and some wine.
“Your cousin Dakota is engaged to that Ryder fellow. You come from these same loins.” Gran slaps her thigh. “You got the right stuff, girlie! Get you a hot NHL player with a big dick. You’re better looking than any of those puck bunnies that hang around the practices. And your tits and ass are real.”
“I don’t have time for dating, Granny Murray. I need to save money, probably get a second job.”
Oh god, how am I going to coach the men’s and my girls’ team?We’re not going to be an NHL coach.
My eye is twitching. I press my finger on it.
“You ought to get that looked at.” Granny Murray follows me down the hall past my siblings’ bedrooms.
My mom has kept each one like a shrine for my siblings when they come home to visit. My dad’s big NHL-goalie payday afforded them a very nice house. Me and each of my five siblings got to have our own room, and there’s still space for a guestroom. Where you’d think Granny Murray would be living, right? In her time of need?
Wrong.
We are roommates.
Sometimes bedmates if she comes home drunk from the bingo hall and crawls into bed with me.
“You’re twenty-three. You have to live.” Granny Murray pulls up my pants, which are sliding down. It’s hard to shop for clothes when you have a hockey butt. Also, yes, my extended family is enmeshed and codependent. Thank you for noticing. “Enjoy life. You’re only young once.”
“I can’t wait to be middle-aged. I’m going to sit under a mound of quilts and read books and drink fancy tea blends.”
“Boo, boring!” She blows a raspberry. “We need to go to the horse tracks.”
