The Spinster Sisters (20 page)

“Okay,” I say to Connor as I roll green napkins into cylinders and slide them into holly napkin rings, “tell me if I have them all straight.”

“Will do.”

“Michael is the oldest, and his wife is Peg, and they have three boys,” I start.

“Right,” says Connor.

“Then you, with your delightfully charming companion, me.”

“Indeed.” He smirks.

“Then Patrick, and his second wife, Ashley, who nobody likes. And he has one girl and one boy from his first wife, Patti, who everyone loves.”

“Perfect.”

“Then Darren, with his girlfriend Jeanette, and she’s pregnant, and your folks are freaking out that they have no plans to get married.” I’m totally on a roll.

“Nope.”

Shit. “Wait, wait, don’t tell me . . . Liam and his fiancée Ana Maria, and then Darren.”

“Right.”

“And then Jack is the oops baby, ten years younger than Darren, and his girlfriend of the week is Andrea.”

“You know it better than any of us!” Connor laughs. “Don’t worry, it’s a fun evening. Mom and Dad take all the grandkids for a sleepover at their house, so we can all have a nice adult evening. Every year we take turns hosting. Which is the easy part, since all you have to do is provide the location and beverages; everyone else brings the food and cleans up before they go.” Connor comes over and slips his arms around my waist. “I’m glad you’re here.” He kisses me softly.

“I’m glad you invited me.”

He kisses me again. The doorbell rings.

“You ready?” he asks.

“Absolutely.”

He kisses me one more time and then goes to answer the door.

We are all sitting in Connor’s living room having coffee and more eggnog, stuffed to the gills. Minus Jack and his girlfriend Andrea, who left right after dinner, claiming another obligation.

Peg, a porcelain strawberry blonde with delicate freckles, points at Jeanette’s gently rounded belly. “You’d better hope that one’s a girl, because these Duncan men are exhausting. Little Sean pitched a fit in the middle of the cereal aisle the other day. I thought I was going to get arrested for child abuse. Just shrieking and wailing because I wouldn’t get him some sugary mess, and everyone looking at me like I’m the worst mother in the world.”

“Kids are guaranteed to embarrass you at every opportunity,” Patrick says. “Remember our wedding?” Everyone giggles again. Patrick turns to me to explain. “When Ashley and I got married, my kids were five and three. Joe was the ring bearer and Bridget was the flower girl. They were walking in together.”

“Looked like little angels,” Ashley says.

“Until they got halfway down the aisle,” Liam jumps in.

“Then Joe grabs Bridget’s little basket of rose petals and starts hitting her with it!” Peg says.

“Bridget hunkers down in the middle of the aisle like a miniature sumo wrestler and begins to shriek at the top of her lungs,” Patrick continues.

“Peg bolts down the aisle, throws a kid over each shoulder, and scoots out the side door,” Michael pipes in.

“So we get everything back on track, we all do the processional, and then, in the middle of the vows, Joe gets away from Peg, runs back out into the ceremony, and starts yelling at the justice of the peace, ‘That’s not my mommy!’ It was one hell of a fiasco,” Patrick finishes.

“The wedding every girl dreams of,” Ashley says.

“Wow. You all have just completely reinforced my decision to not have children,” I say.

“Oh, honey, kids are great. Just because you and your first husband didn’t have them, it isn’t too late,” Peg says. “You’re plenty young.”

“And Lord knows the Duncans are a fertile bunch of boys!” Jeanette offers.

“I appreciate the encouragement, but I think I’m going to leave the child rearing up to the rest of you.” What is it about December? Suddenly everyone thinks I should be a mom.

“Leave her alone, guys. Not everyone feels the need to populate the city.” Connor comes to my rescue. His own admittance to a lack of the parenting gene was one of our earliest bonding moments.

“Well, considering some of the behavior of our bunch of monsters, I can certainly see why you would opt out!” Darren says. “What do you think, honey, should we put this one up for adoption when it arrives?” He rubs Jeanette’s bump affectionately.

“This bastard spawn of sin that you’ve saddled me with? Absolutely,” Jeanette says, laughing.

“We’re getting her a scarlet letter for Christmas,” Liam says.

“I still don’t know why you guys don’t just get married. Save yourselves the hassle,” Darren says.

“I’ve been married twice, thank you,” says Jeanette. “I think the Goldie/Kurt model is the way to go.”

“Twice?” I ask. “But you’re so young!”

“I know! First time to my high school boyfriend. We eloped just after my eighteenth birthday, annulled after three months. And the second time to my college sweetheart, which lasted two years,” Jeanette says. “I’m done with the marrying. We’re going to live in sin forever.”

“Works for me,” Darren says. “I know where home is. I don’t need a ceremony to tell me anything.”

Connor offers around more coffee, and I retreat to the kitchen with Peg, Ana Maria, and Jeanette to begin cleaning up a bit.

“You’re a brave girl, to suffer through tonight,” Peg says, beginning to rinse plates and load Connor’s dishwasher. “But I’m glad you did.”

“Connor never brings anyone to the Christmas Eve parties,” Jeanette says.

“Well, I’m glad he invited me. It’s so wonderful to watch how a big family interacts. My family is so small. I like the noise of it all with you guys!” I say.

Interesting. Connor doesn’t usually bring a date to these. I’m surprised by how much this pleases me. I’m still reasonably certain I’m not looking for Mr. Right. And yet, something about the knowledge that he has brought me into the fold makes me all warm and gooey. And there is nothing like watching a bunch of committed couples being happy to make one reconsider whether independence is the best choice.

“Well, I’m just glad I’m finally not the only one in the room who isn’t Irish!” Ana Maria says.

We all laugh and continue cleaning up with the hum of the five Duncan brothers wafting in from the living room.

 
It’s just after three when Connor and I finally collapse into his bed.

“Thanks for all your help tonight,” he says, pulling me tight against him. “Everyone loved you.”

“They’re all amazing,” I say, snuggling against his chest. “And exhausting! Is it always that draining to spend time with your family?”

“Pretty much. Anytime you have that many personalities in a room, it’s bound to be weary-making.”

“So what will you all do tomorrow?”

“Well, after a quiet breakfast with you,” he kisses the top of my head, “I’ll head over to Mom and Dad’s. Everyone in the immediate family will be there by noon. We’ll open presents, play with the kids, and me and my brothers will begin assembling the crap that comes unassembled while Mom plays general in the kitchen with all the girls. By two, all the aunts and uncles and cousins will arrive, and at four, we’ll sit down to dinner. Which means by four forty-five we’ll all be stuffed to the gills, half in the bag, and the kids will be cranky from too much sugar. Someone will break someone else’s new toy, and one by one the families will peel off toward home.”

“Another full day.”

“Well, it isn’t movies and Chinese food, but it is traditional.” He chuckles.

“I think it sounds nice. Family on that scale is something I don’t understand, but it always seems sort of magical.”

“The grass is always greener. I think the idea of being able to fit your entire family into your car is pretty cool.” Connor yawns deeply.

“How about we call it a night?” I’m bone tired, slightly buzzed, stuffed to the gills, and awfully contented.

“Excellent idea. Good night, sweet girl.”

This chills me. One of my favorite all-time movies is a darling little film by Ted Demme called
Beautiful Girls.
Great cast, smart writing. Uma Thurman at one point is telling Matt Dillon the way to her heart. “All I need to hear before I go to sleep is four little words. ‘Good night, sweet girl.’ That’s all it takes.” And I remember thinking the first time I saw that movie,
She’s so right. That is all you really need in life. If you can find the person to express that ideal, you’re pretty much set.

“Good night, sweet boy,” I whisper back to him.
Good night, sweet boy.

There are certain dates to which we have given an inordinate amount of power. New Year’s, Valentine’s Day, birthdays, and anniversaries are all potential traps for relationships old and new. And unless you have had a discussion about your expectations, you cannot fault your partner if he doesn’t live up to them. No one can read your mind. If you place a great deal of weight on that midnight kiss or heart-shaped box of chocolates, you need to make that known to your partner. You can’t blame him for not intuiting that you wanted more; it obviously wasn’t something that was forefront on his mind the way it was for you. But since you didn’t tell him, then you are the creator of your own disappointment, and frankly, I think you owe him an apology.

 
 
 
The phone rings at six.

“Hello?”

“Hey, you.” It’s Connor.

“Hi! How are you?” It’s about flipping time. I haven’t heard word one from him since I left his place Christmas morning.
Four days ago.
Not a call, not an e-mail, not a text message. He was so sweet, made me a hearty breakfast, and then sent me on my way with a kiss and a smile, but then, nothing. “Just getting settled in for the evening.”

“Sounds nice. Don’t go out; it’s disgusting out there.”

I can see out the window that it is snowing sideways, a particularly Chicago thing for it to do. “Certainly looks that way. What are you up to?” I ask him.

“Just getting ready to leave work. Me and the guys are heading over to watch the game at Bill’s.”

“So we both have excellent indoor evenings planned.”

“Indeed we do. Anyway, I wanted to check in and talk about New Year’s.”
Finally!
I couldn’t believe he hadn’t asked already. I’m getting ready to forgive him for neglecting me.

“Well, Jill and I always do a small dinner party for New Year’s. Would you like to come?”

There is a silence. “Oh,” he says. “Well, the thing is, I, well . . .”

“You don’t want to come.”

“It isn’t that, it’s just, I told Michael and Peg I’d watch the boys so that they could go to a party. I’m not really much for the whole New Year’s Eve thing anyway, and since you hadn’t said anything yet, I sort of figured maybe you weren’t a New Year’s Eve girl either, and maybe you’d want to come hang out with me and help babysit.”

“Oh, Connor, I’m sorry. I should have told you about the party. I didn’t mention New Year’s because some people place a lot of weight on it, and you and I just started seeing each other. I didn’t want you to feel pressured.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly check with you first either.”

“Aren’t we a perfect pair?” My heart sinks.

“Well, it’s just New Year’s. You’ll have fun with your party, and I’ll have fun with the nephews. I’ve got a thing on New Year’s Day, but how about dinner on the second?”

“Sounds good.” Actually, it sounds like crap. It sounds like I was an afterthought for New Year’s Eve, and not good enough to invite to whatever “thing” he has for New Year’s Day.

“Okay, then. I’m going to head out. You have a fun night, and I’ll call you tomorrow.”

“Okay. Have fun at Bill’s.”

“Good night, darlin’.”

“Good night.”

Okay. Fine. Regroup. So Connor isn’t a New Year’s guy. And babysitting three rowdy boys so that Michael and Peg can have a date is very sweet and endearing. And he did invite me. But that “New Year’s Day thing” chaps my ass. It’s obviously a party of some sort, and one where he doesn’t want me tagging along. And I’m trying not to be mad at myself for not broaching the idea of New Year’s in enough time to secure plans with him.

 
“Mmmm. I did miss you,” Abbot says into my hair. We are snuggled up on my couch, watching a French film about a man who starts a chorus in a reform school right after World War II.

“But it sounds like you had a good trip.”

“Oh, yeah. Nothing like a trip home. Mom starts drinking the moment the clock strikes five, Dad keeps running weird errands at all hours so that he can sneak off to see his mistress, and Uncle Joey spends the whole weekend telling racist jokes and complaining about the immigration problem.”

“Okay, well, that part isn’t so good, but at least you got to see your sister and her kids, and you were smart enough to stay at a hotel.”