Just Friends With Benefits (11 page)

From out my window, I observed a couple walking down my street holding hands. Since they couldn’t see me, I flipped them the bird and cursed their happiness. “So, onto another subject! What else is new with you? How’s Claires?” I asked.

“Same ‘ole: chock full of accessories! Can’t wait to be an Occupational Therapist and get out of the retail biz for good.”

“Only one more year until you graduate!”

“Yup.”

“So, did Paul say anything about me and Hille?” I asked.

“Not to me.”

My stomach felt queasy as I imagined Paul and Hille laughing about me and comparing notes on my sexual aptitude. Not that they’d ever do that to me. Some random chick they both picked up, maybe, but not me.
Or would they?
“Promise you’re not lying?”

“I promise! Are you okay about this Steph?”

“Aside from feeling stupid, yeah, I’m okay,” I said.

“Why do you feel stupid?”

“Uh—I don’t make a habit of throwing myself at guys.”

Hope laughed but didn’t comment.

“Anyway, what’s done is done. The sex was great, but I don’t think we’ll be triple dating with you, Paul, Jess and Eric anytime soon.”

“Is that what you want?” Hope asked.

“Kind of. He’s so damn sexy, not to mention how convenient it would be since we’re already friends.” Paranoid again, I got up from the table and started pacing my kitchen floor. “Hope, don’t say a word to Paul. I mean it! If you even talk in your sleep about it while sharing his bed, I’ll kill you.”

“I won’t breathe a word. I promise.”

“I mean, it’s not like he promised to love me till the end of time or anything. But I’m disappointed. And totally embarrassed.”

“Don’t be! You were two consenting adults. There’s nothing to be embarrassed about.” Hope giggled and said, “You didn’t ask him to go steady, did you?”

“Haha. No. But I did pin him!”

“You crack me up. So, you’ll still be there on New Year’s Eve, right?”

“I’m gonna need to grow some serious balls to deal with the endless teasing which will undoubtedly come at my expense for doing the nasty with Hille. Good thing I have a month to prepare, but yes, I’ll be there with balls on.”

Hope chuckled. “I just need to sleep with Hille, or you with Eric and we can start our own reality show—‘Incestuous friends!’”

“That’s gross, Hope. Anyway, about Paul. I wouldn’t worry about it. He’s totally into you. And he should be! You’re a hot, twenty-five-year-old chick with a kick ass body, your partying skills could rival Lindsay Lohan’s, minus the DUIs and lesbian tendencies, and you have a heart of gold—no, platinum! He’d be hard-pressed to find better than you and he knows it. If anything, you’ll find a hotter, younger, richer guy and dump
his
ass!”

“Doubt it, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

Kind of hoping she’d return the favor, I said, “Anytime.”

“And by the way, you’re way too cool for Hille anyway.”

Smiling, I said, “Thanks, Hope. I sort of hoped for someone to kiss under the mistletoe this year, though.”

Her tone gentle, Hope said, “I know. But look on the bright side.”

“What bright side?”

“You’re a Jew. And Jews don’t have mistletoe!”

“Oh. That bright side,” I said, laughing.

Hope was right. Being a member of the tribe, I could probably avoid the mistletoe.

But I couldn’t avoid my Jewish mother.

As we were finishing Chanukah dinner, our coffee cups drained and mere remnants of my mom’s homemade chocolate rugelach left on our plates, my mom asked, “So, have you been out on any dates lately?”

Since I was the only single person at the table of ‘dating’ age, I knew the question was directed at me. “Yeah, Mom. I was out on 12/13, 12/18 and 12/23. Are those dates okay with you?” I asked.

My mom rolled her eyes. “Hardy har har,” she said.

“You walked into that one, Mom,” Sam said.

My mom said, “Why don’t you try one of those speed dating events?”

“How do you know I haven’t?”

My mom smiled brightly, her sky blue eyes twinkling with hope. “Have you?”

“Nope.”

“Will you?”

“Probably not,” I said.

I looked away before I could witness my mother’s smile fade and her eyes go dull. I figured she was silently lamenting her only daughter’s failure to graduate college and beyond without earning her ‘MRS.’ Sam had done his job getting married nine years ago at the socially acceptable age of 27. “As much as I love talking about my love life, it’s really not fair of me to hog the spotlight.” I turned towards my stepfather and said, “So, Al, how ‘bout those Redskins?”

Before he could answer, my mom continued to grill me. “So what’s your plan for New Year’s Eve, Stephanie?”

I wondered what made my life so much more interesting than the NFL standings but responded, “Going to Jess and Eric’s house. They’re having a little shin-dig.”

“Will there be any single guys there?”

“Sure, but I already slept with all of them,” I said.

Without missing a beat, my mom asked, “Are they Jewish?”

I saw Sam glance my way with his hand covering his mouth as if to keep the hysterics from escaping. When we were little, my mom tended to do things which would strike Sam and me as hilarious and the second our matching hazel eyes locked, we would lose it and my mom would be completely oblivious as to why. Like the time she bragged about being a great dancer and got down to Earth Wind & Fire’s ‘Lovely Day’ in the middle of the kitchen. Sam and I laughed so hard, I almost choked on my tuna casserole.

I was certain if Sam and I made eye contact at that moment, we would start laughing like we did as kids and so I picked up my dishes and brought them to the sink. I also wanted to change the subject since I actually had slept with two of the single men who would be in attendance at the party. Although I wasn’t sure if Paul could technically be considered single since he was dating Hope.

As soon as I sat back down at the table, I was approached by my six year old niece, Lillie, who stood next to me and put her delicate hand on my shoulder. Her doe eyes wide and inquisitive, she asked, “Can I be the flower girl at your wedding, Aunt Stephanie?”

“Of course you can, sweetie. If you don’t get married before me, that is.” I could almost picture myself at her wedding: the spinster aunt, standing next to her roommate from college and her future sister-in-law, all of us wearing matching puffy bridesmaid dresses.

My mom stood behind me and put her arms around my neck. She kissed the top of my head and said, “See? I’m not the only one who wants you to get married.”

Scratching his gray beard, Al said, “Susan, can you cut the girl some slack? She’s young and beautiful. She makes good money and takes care of herself. When she meets the right guy, she’ll settle down. For now, let her have fun.”

“Thank you, Al.” I knew there was a reason I was glad my mom married him eighteen years ago, besides the fact that he used to buy me Hello Kitty stickers while they were dating. And besides, it wasn’t as if I wasn’t trying. I had hoped Hille was the right guy and I would have been more than happy to settle down with him but our damn friendship put a wrench in those plans. When Lillie asked us to go around the table and state what we were thankful for at Thanksgiving dinner, only a few weeks earlier, instead of my good health and supportive family, I should have expressed my gratitude that Hille was my BFF!

While I continued to pout about my bad luck with men and my mom’s inability to give the subject a rest, my sister-in-law chimed in her agreement with Al. “I’ll second that!” she said.

“Thank you, Amy!” I turned to my mom and gave her my best “so there!” look.

Relenting, my mom said, “All right. I’ll lay off.”

Pretending to wipe the sweat from my brow, I said, “It’s about time!”

“I just want to have more grandchildren.”

As Amy tried to stifle her giggles, Sam let out a snort and said, “I did my job. It’s your turn, kiddo.”

Sam’s use of the word “kiddo” immediately made me think of Hille and I wondered what his family talked about at the dinner table and if they were as nuts as my clan. Then I remembered Hille and I weren’t dating and I probably shouldn’t care what his family talked about at the dinner table. It wasn’t like they’d ever invite me over.

On New Year’s Eve day, Jess and Hope picked me up at the train station. In all of the holiday madness, I never did find the time to get my balls on for the teasing I assumed was awaiting me so, sans balls, I threw my bags in the small trunk of Jess’s silver Saturn Sky, got in the back seat and leaned over to give both girls a kiss.

I had nervous knots in my stomach but Hope said no one had even mentioned my tryst with Hille. In disbelief, I asked, “Really? No one has given Hille a hard time about it?”

Jess looked at me through the rear view mirror and said with mock jealousy, “Well, Eric wouldn’t dare introduce a conversation that might result in his precious Stephanie being teased.”

I laughed and asked, “Since when? It’s not like he doesn’t make fun of me all the time.”

“Yeah, but he doesn’t like when others do it. It’s the older brother syndrome. He can beat you up, but will fight to the death if someone else does.” As Jess pulled into the driveway of the redwood split-level house she shared with Eric, she said, “You know, everyone treads lightly around Hille for some reason. He never gets the brunt of the abuse. The worst they ever say is he’s an egghead!”

“The guys might just be waiting for you to get here before they start in,” Hope suggested as we all got out of the car.

Opening the trunk to remove my bags, Jess said, “Or maybe they’ve just matured.”

After contemplating Jess’s statement for a moment, we collectively exclaimed, “Nah!”

As we walked into the small foyer which led to stairs up to the kitchen, living room and three bedrooms, or down to the family room, Jess shouted, “We’re home!” She went upstairs to check out the food situation while Hope and I went downstairs to greet the others who were spread out on the two matching caramel leather couches surrounding the entertainment center. Eric was a music junkie and racks of CDs lined the walls of the room.

Corky approached me first. “Hey, hot stuff,” he said hugging me fiercely. “We gonna make out later?”

“Do I have to decide right now?” I asked.

Walking back toward his spot on the couch and his open can of Miller Lite, Corky replied, “Nope. Take all the time you need in the next five minutes.” At 26, Corky was goofy with a capital G. The first time we met, he repeatedly chanted, “Lose the zero. Get with the hero!” while pointing to me and my date for the evening, my ex-neighbor and not-quite boyfriend Stephen. I hid from him all night until Eric told me Corky said the same thing to every girl who walked by with a guy and was not, as I feared, stalking me.

Interrupting my thoughts, Paul pointed to the large laundry bag I had dragged with me down the stairs and asked, “What’s with the gynormous blue bag, Steph?”

“It’s gifts for you!” I had purchased gifts from Sephora for all of the girls and customized plaques from the Yankee’s website for the guys. I was afraid any gift I bought for Hille might send a message that I was either totally crushing on him or trying too hard to look like I
wasn’t
crushing on him so, forsaking all creativity, I bought everyone the same gift, depending on his/her sex.

Shaking his finger at me, Paul said, “It’s blue. Not very Christmas, ya know.”

“I’m Jewish, remember? I wanted to share some of the Chanukah spirit. I even brought a dreidel. We can play a drinking game with it!”