“Lots of people.” My smile widens as Max points between us as the best examples.
“Not in this city,” Lorna smirks, “and not happily.”
Barry calls over, “Lorna!”
Oh no.
We look at Max’s best friend since childhood. I can feel my stomach tightening as I notice he’s behind the bar, of course, where booze is ample and free, his favorite combo. My heart sinks, and Max’s hand slides down my arm to silently reassure me, hang on, it won’t be that bad.
Poor Barry.
He’s crazy about her.
It’s just sad.
My father-in-law is with him, sophisticated in a suit, his hand on a glass of bourbon. But Henry’s drinks don’t disappear the way Barry’s do. Henry carries a glass in his hand because it feels close to a pipe, or cigar, his preference. But if he had one of those, Alice would remove it, out of love, not control. So Henry drinks from the glass wishing it billowed smoke and smelled of Cuba.
Barry finishes, “I could make you happy if you'd give me the chance.”
Lorna calls back, “For one night maybe.”
His smile disappears. “For one more night you mean?”
Lorna smirks with contempt, “You wish!”
All eyes turn for Barry’s retort.
Breathing isn’t possible.
Not after the gasp the party swallowed.
Did they sleep together?
I’m staring at my sister wondering if that’s even possible. She loathes Barry, always makes it clear.
Our eyes lock and she shakes her head — C’mon, you know me better than that.
Barry decides his pride is made of the stuff of Shakespeare and announces, walking over to join us, bringing the entire party with him to hear what he’s about to say. “Henry, she doesn't remember it but one traumatically romantic evening,” Barry’s fingers dance through the air, “Lorna walked with me under a blanket of glittering stars on the aptly named 'Sandy Beach' in Honolulu, Oahu.” He stops beside where my sister is seated and appalled. “That's Hawaii.”
Lorna dryly asks, “Oh, is that where Honolulu is?”
“I pointed out the constellations—”
“—Yeah right!”
“I carried her flip flops for her.”
She jumps up, tells everyone, “That never happened!”
Max thinks it’s way too fun to tease my sister — especially since she gives me a hard time any chance she gets — so he tells the audience, “The four of us did go to Oahu two years ago!”
Lorna glares at Max.
Fuck it.
I mean, she brings this on herself.
And it’s our anniversary.
I join in, “Max and I did go to bed earlier than you two!”
Arthur calls out, “I'm sure it wasn't to sleep!”
The party bursts into laughter.
Except for Lorna who rarely thinks anything is funny unless it hurts. “If you all think for one second that I seriously hooked up with this schmoe—”
Barry’s ego grabs his zipper, shouting, “Hey, hey hey, this schmoe's got a really big reason to hook up with him!”
We all shout, “No!” “Stop!” averting our eyes and Alice, my mother-in-law, and a second mother to Barry since he was a fucked-up teen searching for answer, deflates the situation by jumping out. “Whoa whoa!” she laughs. “Hold on! You better calm down and be careful, or I might just leave my husband for you!”
Barry drops his hand as everyone laughs, deflection successful.
“I dare you, Barry.” Henry smirks, “She's a wildcat.”
Alice cries out, “Oh God!” and tucks herself into her husband’s embrace. “You say the nicest things!”
I whisper to my sister, “And them.”
If Alice and Henry hadn’t taken the place of our parents over the last decade, and stepped up in so many ways, for both of us, Lorna would be jaded about them, just like every other human being besides me.
But she can’t be.
They’re kind, authentically good people who have never let anybody down when they were needed.
Her eyelashes drop. “Mmhmm.”
I smile, knowing that’s the best my baby sister can do.
“See, that's what I'm talking about, Henry! Screw ten years! I'm going for forty-three! And I'm gonna start right now.” Barry strolls in front of Max and I, and gets down on one knee!
I lean into my husband with a silent plea — help, oh please make him stop. This will not end well.
“Lorna, you tight ass snob, would you please…”
Max waves him up. “Alright Barry. Pull it back.”
From his knee, Barry looks up, confused, even innocent. “What? I'm proposing!” His head swings back to my sister, innocence gone. “God help if I know why! Look at that judgment just staring back at me. Like you're better than me. Like you're better than everybody else here!”
Lorna bends at the waist, green eyes cold, face dangerously close to his, and her middle finger jumps between them, inviting him to stick it.
I close my eyes.
Why can’t we have one party with these two where it doesn’t blow up in our faces?
The audience dissipates, fun over.
I hear Jennifer say, “Abby, we've gotta get going. Open your gift!”
Great.
Chapter 4
Max
Well, that got out of hand.
Melted with disappointment, Abby asks her best friend, trying to keep her voice down since Barry is right behind her, his hand on the brick wall as he glares at where Lorna exited. “Oh no, is it because of…” subtly motioning to him and trailing off.
The Millers emphatically shake their heads, taking turns and saying in rapid succession, “No!” “No!” “No.” “No.” “No.”
Which means yes.
Tom finally puts an end to their cover-up, leans forward to smirk, “Are you kidding? It’s not a party without Barry acting like a jackass.”
I wince.
Here we go.
“Jackass?” Barry pushes off the wall.
Abs touches my chest, another silent plea for help.
There’s a competition between Tom and Barry, because Tom knows my best friend doesn’t like him and thinks he’s a douche. Which he’s not. Abby and I spend a lot of time with Tom and Jennifer doing couples-things. We like them, they’re good people. Jen’s a peach. Or maybe a strawberry.
Sure, Tom’s not as fun to hang out with as Barry is, but he’s a good guy. Normally a passive type, but he would punch Barry in order to look good in front of his own wife, like most men would. Especially with the undeniable undercurrent of chemistry between Barry and Jen — mostly on her side — that Tom tries to pretend isn’t there, but fucking is.
It just is.
That’s why he had her on his lap while they listened to Arthur. So he could keep an eye on her.
I’ve gotta get moving.
“What did you call me, Tom? You're going to wear that vest, and call me a jackass?”
I slide between them, gracefully push them apart. “C’mon, Barry. Let's get you some coffee.”