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“How much weed does she smoke?”
“She grows her own,” he says in a flat voice.
“And I thought my family was kooky.”
Fifteen minutes later we’re escorted to a large dining room that holds a very long table. It’s lavishly decorated with heirloom quality crystal and china. The flower arrangements alone probably cost as much as my rent. Ethan pulls out the chair next to his for me.
Jake and Hope who walked in only minutes prior take the seats directly in front of us. This should be all sorts of fun. Hope’s eyes dart back and forth between me and Ethan. After the quick examination, she’s done with us, not sparing us another glance. Jake says his hellos, his eyes turning to familiar crescents when he addresses me.
Norma taps her glass with her fork and the entire room grows quiet. Raising a wine glass, she thanks everyone for coming and in return everybody wishes her a happy eighty-fifth birthday. Everything’s groovy––until this.
“We’re pregnant!” Hope gushes. Jake smiles. The congratulations start. Cousins and long time family friends get up and start slapping backs and kissing cheeks. At some point they all direct awkward, tight lipped smiles our way coupled with shifty eye contact. Impulsively, I reach under the table and take Ethan’s hand and squeeze.
I don’t know if he’s still in love with her, and frankly I don’t want to know. Because if he is, that would mean that while I’ve been fostering the world’s dumbest crush on the sweet guy sitting next to me, he’s been pining after his brother’s wife. Which would also mean that I’ve made the same mistake yet again, that I haven’t learned a damn thing.
One glass of hemlock coming right up.
My gaze slides over, and finds him watching me with a gentle smile on his face and what is indisputably affection in his eyes. Although I’ve caught glimpses of it before, I’ve never seen it living out in the open like this. The fire breathing dragon yawns and goes back to sleep.
He lets go of my hand. Except he doesn’t really. Instead of dropping it, he places it on his thigh and covers it with his own. My heart gets a little bit bigger, swelling inside my chest ’til it hurts.
The good times don’t stop with the baby announcement. No siree. The baby announcement serves as a springboard for all kinds of jokes at Ethan’s expense.
“Remember when E took Jake’s fishing pole without telling him,” cousin number one serves up as fodder.
“Yeah, E, remember the ass kicking you got for that,” cousin two adds, his inflection riddled with delight.
“How ‘bout when E crawled through poison sumac to spy on us in the woods,” family friend number one feels the need to insert.
“I nailed Pam Simmons that night. That was a great fucking party,” cousin number two cheerfully responds.
Classy. This is a classy bunch.
And all the while, I can feel Ethan stiffen, the muscle under my hand rock hard with tension, his grip on me tightening with every jab spoken.
“What about the Christmas party in Sun Valley when Ethan brought Hope and she dumped him the minute she got a load of Jake?”
The last one came from cousin number two, Brett, I believe this joker’s called, who happens to be conveniently sitting next to me. I’m ready to stab this dude in the throat with my dessert spoon. On the edge of my vision, Ethan remains as stoic as ever, noble in the face of all the asinine ridicule directed at him.
“Brett, stop. That’s enough,” his wife, Jennifer, chimes in. The voice of reason. Although I am this close to asking her if she needs me to alert the authorities because there’s no chance anyone would willingly marry Brett.
I excuse myself for fear of shedding blood all over the Irish linen tablecloth and go in search of a bathroom. On the way I find the french doors that open onto a patio and decide that a little fresh air may be in order, more helpful in calming the firestorm that’s brewing. I would love nothing more than to wipe the floors with this merry band of douchbags. The only reason I don’t is that I wouldn’t want to embarrass Ethan in any way.
Outside the air is crisp, winter making a last stand. There’s a full moon out, the clear night sky littered with stars. I get a whiff of cigarette smoke and glance to my left. In the dark there’s a shadowy figure taking a drag. He blows out the smoke, shifts under a slash of moonlight and reveals his face.
“I promised my wife I’d quit.” Lying sack of shit. “Can I count on you not to rat me out?”
“Absolutely not. I’d love to rat you out, but she’ll smell it on you first.”
“Probably.” He follows that with a crooked grin that’s almost identical to his younger brother’s…not nearly as beautiful, though. “I’m ready to pay the consequences,” he says, flippantly.
