“It’s a goddamn Rhinestone Jesus!” she shrieks.
It is, in all its freakish glory. I can hardly believe it. How Sabin managed to find a framed Jesus image done entirely in rhinestones is beyond me.
“I fucking love it!” Estelle is beside herself. “RJ’s in the house, baby!”
She sets it down, and James catches it just as Estelle jumps into Sabin’s arms and wraps her legs around his waist. It’s a good thing her nightgown has such a high slit on the side.
“And I fucking love you!” Repeatedly, she noisily kisses him on the cheek until Sabin is rolling his eyes and trying to detach her from his body.
“If I’d known you’d freak out like this, I would have left it at the flea market.” But he’s still grinning.
The scene before me is what I was hoping for—well, maybe not the Rhinestone Jesus part—and I scan the room to take it all in.
Chris and Sabin found the most massive tree, which I’m still surprised fits in the room, and we decorated it very simply with white lights, red bows, and a few handmade ornaments that we bought at a local shop. Not that a tree is the most important thing about this holiday, but it’s a nice backdrop for being with the people I love most in the world. I feel settled and complete when we’re all together.
Eric retreats from Estelle’s continued whooping and comes with me to the kitchen to help cook. I’ve mapped out a rather elaborate meal. I might have gone overboard with how much food we’ll have, but the college students have been eating dorm food for months, and Sabin’s clearly been gorging on fast food. Granted, the tacos we had the other day were delicious, but I’m afraid he hasn’t eaten anything healthy in months.
Opening the oven, I check on the standing rib roast that I started a while ago, and then I start peeling and thinly slicing potatoes for the gratin. Eric fills me in on his classes while he simultaneously starts a chocolate mousse and assembles a giant salad. If I find a green pepper in my dessert, I’m going to be annoyed, but he seems to have a handle on things.
“So, one more semester, and you’re done. You ready for it to be over?” I ask.
“For sure. I’m really glad I took this extra year, but I’m pretty over studying all the time.” Eric does look tired, but he is also as bubbly as always about his academics. “I’ve been doing an independent study. Did I tell you that? My professor is so great. She lets me pick out all my own reading materials, and I can write about whatever I want. My room has been filled with thick books on ancient Greece. It’s so fun. The Internet only gets me so far, and you know that I kinda dig the library.”
“What are you going to do after graduation?”
“Well,” he says, “I actually wanted to talk to you about that.”
For a second, I have some silly fantasy that he wants to move to Maine, but that can’t possibly be on his agenda. Then, I know. “Oh! You and Zach?”
He smiles but keeps his head down as he adds freshly washed arugula to the salad. “Yeah. I’m thinking about asking him to live together.”
“Okay, I love that you’re all Martha Stewart while focusing on your salad when there’s a more pressing issue, but stop salading, and give me details! Where do you want to live? What’s he doing next year? Tell me!”
Eric sets his hands on the counter and looks at me. “I had a feeling you’d like this idea. Zach is looking at a few job possibilities in Chicago, and we could be happy there. We haven’t talked about plans too much, and I think he’s being cautious, not wanting to push me or anything. But here’s the thing…” He lowers his voice a bit. “I don’t know if I can leave Estelle. I don’t know what she’s doing next year, and…Blythe, you know, she switched majors before me. Do you really think she had a burning need to study sociology, and that was worth an extra year of college? What’s she going to do? Become a sociologist?”
“I don’t understand.”
“She didn’t want to leave Matthews. I think she feels safe there.”
“Oh, Eric. Did you switch your major to stay with her?”
He starts chopping a cucumber. “Yeah. Kind of.”
“Why?”
He shrugs. “She got kind of messed up for a while. You know that. I didn’t want to leave her. But now, I’m going to have to—unless she wants to come to Chicago or wherever I end up. But there’s James now, and…I’m just not sure what to do.”
“Eric, listen to me. Estelle is a tough chick. Don’t forget that. Let her work out her stuff, but you have to talk to her about this.”
“You know Estelle. She doesn’t make that easy. Our bond is a little more unspoken,” he says, laughing lightly.
“I know. But if you push her a little, she’ll open up. Okay?”
He nods. “Okay. Thanks, Blythe.”
We spend another hour cooking and listening to the raucous noise from the other room. Every single sound is exhilarating to me. We eventually lure in everyone’s help with the promise of an outstanding dinner. Chris turns on loud music and stands next to me, occasionally leaning in for a kiss, while we cook. The bustle of activity now reminds me so much of the bliss we all had last summer, and I am extremely grateful that we’re able to recapture that.
Dinner goes off smoothly, and it turns out that I did not radically over shop. I forgot how much James could put away. When we’ve polished off a shocking amount of food, Sabin, Chris, Eric, and Estelle move to the living room while I sit with James and pick from the salad bowl.
