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“I fucking knew it.” Chugging my glass of wine, not tasting a single drop until the awful sourness hits and I regret my actions.
“What was that, dear?” Emily hears my voice and thinks we are destined to be besties.
“I said my perfume is from fertile newts. When they go into heat, they expel aromas.” Everyone stares at me as I try to come up with something and I don’t know anything about newts. “It’s organic.”
“Oh, how nice, dear. You will have to show me the bottle. I love trying new fragrances.” Emily comes by and fills up my glass again and leaves to the other side of the room.
“It isn’t even fun; she doesn’t know I am insulting her.” I lean my head on Bambi’s shoulder and close my eyes, hoping this wine makes me forget how good Aladden’s body glistened in his swimmer shorts.
“Poor thing, how dare she.” Bambi taps my head.
Julian’s brother Markus is sitting with his wife, who is an exact replica of his mother, just a newer model. I shake my head. I am not helping the feminist movement by degrading these women who think their husbands shine the sun out of their assholes.
Everyone has the same shit hole under there.
Julian is the youngest, Markus is the oldest. Then there are two others between them, another boy and one daughter. I don’t remember their names, but they don’t speak to me, so they aren’t my problem.
“Dinner is ready, come and find your seats.” Emily widens her arms to show us the dining room. She would have done great things on the Price is Right.
“Bob Barker would have hired her on the spot.” I whisper one last jab before heading into the room to sit by the girls; luckily, there is no kid table.
Bambi laughs out loud, a true laugh and I hug her, because it’s the first real smile I show tonight.
Plates are placed in front of us and I promise myself I won’t make fun of the food, because it is delicious. But Emily didn’t make it; she brags about some personal chef she found on social media.
Bambi gets off her chair and gets on the ground and she must have dropped something, because she is down there for a minute. But when I start thinking she is giving Julian an undercover blowjob, she fucking proposes.
“Julian Crawford, would you marry me?” My God I can’t believe what I am witnessing. My cousin and her daughters are surrounding Julian.
“Get off your fucking knees, this is my moment.” But Julian is shocked and there are tears in his eyes, because he loves my cousin more than I know.
“Julian! Language,” Emily shouts from the end of the table.
“Always trying to steal my thunder, baby.” Julian pushes his chair back and gets on his knees to level with her as he kisses her, bringing an arm around each of his daughters. “Of course I’ll fucking marry you. I’ve always been yours.”
I think something is in my eye because I am getting emotional and feel happiness bubbling in my tummy. I hope it wasn’t bad fish.
“Oh my God! Bambi, you must feel like a princess, a dream come true.” Emily is clapping, Julian’s siblings are congratulating them. Julian’s dad shakes his hand, then Bambi’s.
“Welcome to the family.” His dad’s words are supposed to be nice, but make me twitch. See, Libby is seven, and Ruby is almost four. So do those years not count without a ring on her finger?
But I don’t say a thing. I hug Bambi and she looks so happy I am so glad I was here to see it. I brush a curl out of her face and stare at her. She deserves every bit of the good in this world; they both do.
Cake is served and I am so happy I came, if this is my reward. I don’t care, this benefits me and is delightful until Markus speaks during dessert.
Julian’s oldest brother begins to tell us an intended joke but it falls flat. One second, we are celebrating Bambi’s engagement and the next he is talking about out-of-control kids.
“And then I say to them, I don’t hit my kids, but I can see why some parents do.” Markus leans back and rubs his belly.
Everyone in the room laughs, at least the adults do, minus Bambi, Julian, and me.
“Because child abuse is funny?” I place my fork down; the chocolate cake is ruined.
“No, that’s not what I meant.” Markus shakes his head and snorts. “Clearly.”
“It wasn’t clear. You specifically said you can see why some parents hit their children. Probably coming from a man who never had to beg for their parents’ love or affection. Or to be fed or tucked in at night. Entitled has a whole new meaning when you have the room to joke about abuse all because it doesn’t apply to you.” I clear my throat and adjust my shoulders.
“No one thinks child abuse is a laughing matter, darling.” Emily sure knows how to throw back a glass.
