How could I ever feel lonely. At any given time, I have a dozen relatives who need my time and attention. I have needy co-workers and a best friend who is always by my side. And Stella, my roommate, my adopted aunt, my partner-in-crime. And I’ve got a crew of guy friends who always have my back.
So, yea, loneliness is not something I’m used to feeling. But that morning, I felt bereft as I lay there in bed listening for telltale signs that Marc was still around. But the silence was too loud to ignore, so I ended up crawling out of bed to make some tea. That’s when I saw his note explaining that he had to take an early flight because of the impending weather. A feeling of sadness washed over me, and it was not the least bit welcome. I rarely bring guys home to my place, and when I do, I’m quick to let them know that sleepovers are not my thing. I don’t feel even a teensy bit bad when they leave in the middle of the night. I’m not one for messiness and I’m sure as hell not one for sharing breakfast with my one-night-stand.
But when I realized that he was gone, and totally out of my life—no last name, no number, I felt so lonely. I missed our connection. And yes, I missed the chemistry we shared. But I also missed his sharp sense of humor and his deep gravelly voice. I wished, just for a moment (and, ok, a few moments since) that I could see him again.
But that’s impossible. I don’t even know his last name. And he was only in town for a night. So, no more magical penis for me. Christmas miracles don’t happen twice.
Ipark my rental two blocks down from my sister’s place. The road is lined with cars, and this is the closest spot I could find. I’m not complaining, though. Elaine’s made a home here. And if anyone deserves good people surrounding her, it’s certainly my sister. So, I walk the two blocks, gift in tow.
I had absolutely no idea what to get these two for an engagement gift. I was determined to do my own shopping—delegating that task to an assistant is my dad’s signature move, and these days, I’m living by the philosophy that if Edward would do it, I probably shouldn’t. Not my dad is sinister or anything. But he’s not much of a role model unless you’re striving for a cold demeanor and a general air of emotional detachment.
But after scrolling through endless nuptial-themed knick knacks online, I ended up breaking down and asking Nathaniel anyway. Sure, he’s my assistant, but we’re also friends. Well, kind of. Anyway, I felt no shame. The internet is a trap for the world’s clueless gift buyers. But even my superficial search turned up many duds. Are people really buying giant neon signs shaped like diamond rings? And the wine glasses labeled Feyonce and Bae-Z. Are those flying off the shelves?
As usual, Nathaniel had the right answer. The kid’s all of what, 23? Fresh out of grad school and eager as hell. So, on his recommendation, I bought my sister and her fiancé a silver picture frame engraved with the words “Happily Ever After.”
I walk up Elaine’s front steps to see that the door’s wide open and the party has clearly started.
A cherubic woman who can’t be more than five feet tall accosts me with cheerfulness. “Hello! Welcome to Simon and Elaine’s house. I’m Sandy, mother-of-the groom. And you are?”
I see the resemblance now—it’s all in the hair. “I’m Everett, Elaine’s brother.”
“Oh, yes! Here, let me take your coat. And the gift table is just ahead there. Elaine’s so excited to have you here. Your parents arrived just a little while ago. They’re in the sitting room, I believe…” Sandy trails off.
I smile conspiratorially. “In that case, I’ll head for the kitchen.”
My parents are notoriously awful people. Well, maybe notoriously is a bit strong. They’re not hardened criminals or anything. They are, however, completely self-absorbed and judgemental. So, into the kitchen I go. I spot Elaine over by the counter. She looks totally worn out. I guess I would be, too, if I had to entertain three dozen guests for an afternoon. I help myself to a drink, and just as I’m about to head over to Elaine and give her a hug, I get cornered by my Uncle Leon. I guess our inevitable conversation about the O’s chances of getting to the post-season just can’t wait another minute…
The only redeemable thing about this conversation, other than the fact that we’ve been having it for ten years straight, so I know my lines by heart, is that Leon brought snacks. He swiped a bowl of chips off the table, so we munch on that as he laments, “They gotta put money into pitching, Ev. That’s where they go wrong every year. All this talent in the field, but none of it on the Goddamn mound.”
I nod in agreement, because that’s my role in this conversation,while I scan the crowd for another familiar face. I come up empty. It occurs to me that I really should spend time forging personal relationships, if for no other reason than the fact that if there was one other friendly face in this crowd, I could extricate myself from this conversation, before he starts nominating the O’s former skipper for sainthood.
I see my out when Simon walks in. He must see the desperation on my face. This guy really is a genius, apparently.
“Ev! Elaine’s been waiting for you to get here. Oh, hey Leon. You don’t mind if I steal the bride’s brother for a minute, do you?”
“Can’t leave my sister waiting. I’ll catch you later, Leon.”
Elaine breaks into a smile when she sees me, and I wrap her in a hug. It’s been, what? Six weeks or so since I saw her last. That’s hardly a long time when you consider that we usually only see each other twice a year. Still, it’s accurate to say that we’ve gotten a lot closer these past few months.
“It’s good to see you, E. You look gorgeous. And it goes without saying that I’m thrilled for you both.”
“Thanks, Ev. And you’re too kind. I’m pretty sure the bags under my eyes have bags, but… anyway. I’m so glad you’re here! The guys are out on the deck, if you want to join your fellow groomsmen.”
Ah, yes. The other groomsmen. I know they’re all Simon’s friends, and that they’ve known each other for years. They went to college together, from what I hear. And they’re good guys, or so I’m told.
Ok, this is going to make me sound like a total asshole, and perhaps rightly so. But here’s the truth: friendship is largely a foreign concept for me. I’m not a social outcast or anything. But social situations in my world always have one endgame: networking. Getting ahead is what it’s all about and socializing makes that happen. I can count on one hand the number of guys I consistently talk to on a regular basis outside of work. And that interaction is only because we’re all in direct competition with each other, so we need to keep tabs on one another. Sure, on the outside, it appears as though we’re good friends. We’ve been in each other’s weddings, and we play racquetball together once a week. We golf. We belong to the same clubs. But do we actually confide in each other? Not hardly. Do we trust each other? Hell no.
So, this whole ‘hanging-out-with-the-guys’ thing? Not my usual territory.
But bullshitting my way through life is my specialty, so here I go. I nod to Elaine, silently taking her directive, and I notice Simon tighten his embrace. Well, I guess he’s staying put.
I stride toward the deck, open the sliding glass doors, and am pleasantly surprised to find I’m not freezing my ass off out here. There are still remnants of slushy snow on the grass, and the sky is overcast, but Elaine has heaters set up out here, so it’s nice and toasty. Leave it to my sister to think of every detail.
“Everett!” My name is called like a battle cry, courtesy of the blonde, stocky guy. He’s married to one of Simon’s sisters, and I met them both when I was here for E’s birthday.
“Jesus, Dunc, you’re screaming right in my eardrum!” The tattooed guy winces and covers his ear.
“Sorry to assault your delicate ears, Nick, but Ev’s here.” Dunc shrugs, as though my arrival is the catalyst for a no-holds-barred situation.
