“That’s awesome, dude. Sucks she has to go through this, but hopefully, it’s over soon.” Nick speaks up, and we all nod in agreement.
“I miss my girl,” Simon laments. “It feels so weird doing this without her.” He picks at the food on his plate. He’s right; the meal is fantastic and the company is great, but it’s strange not having my sister here.
“I know. I feel the same way. Like we’re jerks for making a party out of this. I just figured we could kind of divide and conquer, but...” Betsy pushes her plate away.
“Enough!” Molly scolds with a smile, and I can’t help but think how lucky I am to be here with her. “No guilt. No sad faces. We eat. And we talk. And we vote.”
Dunc starts to interrupt, but Molly silences him with a wave of her hand. “Guys. You all look miserable. And I get it—I miss my best girl, too. But she’s at home getting a crochet lesson from Simon’s Nan, not stuck in a prison camp or some horrible thing. And I have no doubt she misses us and our craziness, but I can promise you she wouldn’t be enjoying this food and all these smells that we think are delicious. Seriously. I was over there the other day, and she had to shove her nose in her sweatshirt to avoid the strong smell of the Wheat Thins I was eating.”
Simon nods. “Molly’s right. We’re a Saltine-only house these days. But Nan said she was making lemon-ginger scones, so maybe a little food variety is on the horizon.” He raises his crossed fingers in a hopeful motion.
That eases the tension, and we settle back into small talk and pile more food onto our plates.
Eventually, the food has been consumed, the ballots have been cast, and the dishes have been washed.
“Who needs beer?” Nick asks, as he finishes storing the few leftover items.
“I’ll pass, Nicky. Bets and I are heading out to run some errands. But we’ll see you guys Tuesday at Trick’s, right?”
There are some yeses and maybes as hugs are exchanged. I figure we’ll leave soon, but Molly asks if we have time to stay for a beer, and I can’t deny her. Besides, it sounds good to me, too. I accept the beer that’s handed to me and pull out a barstool for Molly, before settling on my own.
“Simon, Midas Touch or SeaQuench?”
Staring at his phone, he says, absently, “Neither, I should get going, too.”
“Everything good at home?” Gav asks, pulling up a chair.
“Yea,” he smiles. “Mom just sent me a pic of Nan and Elaine napping on the couch.”
“Just think,” says Nick, “in a couple months, that’ll be a pic of Nan, Elaine, and baby Walker napping on the couch.”
At that, Simon smiles.
“So stay. Have half a drink, shoot the shit with us, and then go home to your Sleeping Beauty.” Nick passes the beers around.
Simon looks torn, so I prod. “My sister sleeps like the dead normally, so I have no doubt that a pregnant Elaine is out for the count. Stick around for a bit.”
Checking the time again, Simon relents.“Yea, I can hang for a few. I’ll take the SeaQuench.”
“So, how’s this gonna work? Like, Bets will count the ballots and then tell you what to order?”
Simon laughs. “Dude, I have four older sisters. That’s pretty much the story of my life. Really, though, Lainie told me to handle all the food, so I figured I’d get everybody’s input. And I’ll decide from there. But yea, Bets said she’d text the results tonight.”
“Dude. You know she will. She’ll have graphs and charts and shit. That woman is so put together. And I know we’re not allowed to share our votes, but...I voted for Trick’s food. Everything was really good, but nothing beats Trick’s wings. Although, that ham was killer.”
“That’s an illegal vote. You are not supposed to vote for independents in an election of this magnitude!” Molly scolds.
“Yea, Man.” Gav agrees readily, and I don’t blame him. My girl is a force to be reckoned with.
“Shut up, fucker. You did the same thing.”
Gav is suddenly preoccupied with his beer, and we all laugh. Well, all of us except Simon.
“Simon, my man. You’re starting to scare me over there. What is going through your head?”
“Sorry, guys. I’m fine. I’m just shit company right now. I feel like the world’s worst husband—fiancee, whatever.”
He toys with the label on the bottle. “I feel so helpless. The person I love most in the world, the one I would do absolutely anything for, and there’s nothing I can do. Yea, I’m there for her. I rub her back. I hold her hair. I eat breakfast in the garage because eggs are forbidden in our home.” At this, he laughs. “God, it’s a fucking privilege to do those small things. But I can’t change the situation. I am totally powerless. And when you love someone, you’d do anything for them, right? Anything to ease their burden. Anything to make them happy. But now? There’s nothing I can do.”
