Page 7 of Fun Together
I can see my mom’s resistance waning in the face of her children and grandchild’s enthusiasm. We’re all well versed in how to wear Mom down. “Fine, but nothing crazy, Evie. Just a few people.”
Evie picks up her phone. “Let’s make a plan. First, we’ll need a caterer.”
“I can cook,” Dad says, getting up to grab our empty plates to take into the kitchen.
“You can’t cook for your own party,” Evie objects.
“Let me rephrase. I don’t want to pay for a caterer.”
Evie shrugs. “Fine. No catering. Music?”
“How about that band that played at Emmett’s high school reunion?” I ask. “What were they called again?”
Emmett leans back in his chair and crosses his arms over his chest. “Wet Blankets?”
“Or was it Dirty Blankets?”
“SomethingBlankets,” Evie says, typing it in her phone.
“No bands!” Dad shouts over the running water in the kitchen sink.
“Why not? Live music is fun!” Evie yells back.
“It is fun,” Mom says. “But having a party at all is going to cause noise and I don’t want the whole neighborhood in a tizzy.”
“By neighborhood, you mean Mrs. Webber?” I ask. Mrs. Webber is a woman in her mid-sixties who takes her position as a member of Poplar Street very seriously, like it’s her sworn duty to protect her neighbors from the dangers of a single out-of-place blade of grass. “She’ll be in bed watchingForensic Filesby then, anyway.”
“Still, I don’t want a big thing,” Mom says. “It’s a lot to clean up and there’s always someone who ends up drinking too much and causing a scene.”
“We just won’t invite Uncle Tony,” Evie says.
“Isn’t he in Arizona? Or was it Vegas?” I ask.
“He’s in Myrtle Beach, working as an Elvis impersonator,” Mom says, shaking her head.
“Too bad we can’t have him perform at the party. I’m sure Mom and Dad would love to re-enact their first dance to Tony’s rendition of ‘Can’t Help Falling in Love.’”
Evie springs up from the table and goes into the kitchen. “Someone will need to give a toast.”
“Not it,” Emmett replies.
She grabs a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and gestures to me with it. “Eli can do it.”
“This is your thing. Why can’t you do it?”
“Because I don’t want to,” she says simply.
I turn to Emmett. “Why can’t you do it?”
Evie says in a loud whisper, “Because of the d-i-v-o-r-c-e.”
“Evie . . .” Mom chastises.
“What?” she asks innocently.
“Sorry,” I say to Emmett. Why would he want to stand up in front of people talking about the beauty of love and marriage?
Emmett just shrugs and says, “I also have to fight the urge to puke every time I have to talk in front of a group of people.”
