Page 115 of Fun Together
He smiles, polite as always. “I have my ways.”
I brace myself for Andrew to notice that while he’s seated on one side of Eli, I am on the other. He says hello to a few people on his way over and he pauses momentarily before taking his seat.
Eli nudges my knee with his under the table, a nonverbal assurance that he’s there and that we’ll get through this evening. I give my head a slight shake that I hope he sees as my nonverbal signal that if we’re going to get through this evening, he needs to stop trying to touch me.
“Everybody dig in,” Eli’s dad says. It’s a welcome distraction when everyone begins to fill their plates. Some of my anxiety subsides, lost in the chattering of guests.
I’ve always wanted to experience a family gathering like this, everyone laughing and talking over each other. After watching the way Andrew interacts with Eli’s family, I can see that’s he’s probably drawn to the camaraderie as well.
He found a family with Eli.
I glance out of the corner of my eye and watch Eli and Andrew for a few seconds. I try to keep myself from doing it, but with the two of them in front of me like this, it’s difficult not to compare them. Andrew is high strung and excitable, while Eli is relaxed and spontaneous. Andrew’s dark eyes are kind yet discerning. Eli’s eyes are warm, a little mischievous. Maybe what makes them so different is also what makes them such good friends.
Does that make me the interloper?
I shuffle my food around on my plate and wonder what I’m doing here. And what Eli and I are doing? My grandpa liked him. I like his family. I don’t know what to do with that.
Evie moves to stand at the front of the table. “And now, with a few words to celebrate our favorite couple . . . my second favorite brother.”
Eli gets up from his seat and walks over to her. “Thank you, dear sister.”
“Does someone have music ready for when he goes over his allotted time?” Emmett asks.
Eli grins. “They’ve made it thirty years, so what’s five extra minutes?” Then, he takes a swig of his drink, and I see a hint of nerves in his demeanor. I may be grappling with the discomfort of this situation, but so is he. He meets my eyes, and I give him a small smile of encouragement.
But he doesn’t break eye contact with me like he should. Why is he staring so intently at me like that? I give my head a confused shake, not wanting to draw attention.
He finally looks away. “I had a speech planned where I was going to tell a story about the time when I was about sixteen, I caught Mom and Dad smoking weed right over there.” He points to the edge of the yard between the garage and the neighbor’s fence. “Don’t worry, Mom, I’m not actually going to tell that story. And don’t worry, Dad, I’m not going to tell Mom that you gave me the roach from the joint later that night.”
Everyone laughs and turns to look at his parents. Patti gives Steve a mock-chastising look.
Eli continues, “Burnt the shit out of my fingers trying to smoke that thing.” He shuffles back and forth. “I like that story, though, because the only reason I discovered you were over there was because you were giggling so loud. And I think on some level, I must have subconsciously thought,That’s what I want someday. To be with someone I can laugh and have fun with like that.”
He clears his throat. “Then I was going to say something like, ‘Here’s to many more years of laughter together’ or something corny like that. But lately I’ve been thinking…”
“Shocker,” Evie buts in and everyone chuckles.
“I’ve been thinking it’s more than laughter that gets you through thirty years with someone. There are tears and hard times in there, too. I’ve watched my parents have fun with each other, but there’s more to it than that.”
He looks at me, his honey-brown eyes so earnest I can’t move or breathe. “They know each other in a way that no one else ever will. They tell each other everything. They support each other. They get on each other’s fucking nerves sometimes.”
“Language, honey,” his mom says, blotting her tears away with her napkin.
Everyone laughs, but I don’t. Because I’m starting to sense something. That, while technically he’s giving this speech to his parents, what he’s really doing is telling something else.
What he’s really doing is telling me.
“They love each other,” he says raising his beer bottle, not once taking his eyes off me.
But I must be imagining things. Eli doesn’tloveme. Hecan’tlove me. I’ve always had a runaway train for an imagination, and surely that’s all this is. I’m so lost in my thoughts I barely register that Eli has finished his speech and we’re all raising our drinks.
He turns to his parents. “Love you both. Now is when I’ll say cheers to many more, et cetera, et cetera . . .”
He drains the rest of his beer as all the blood drains from my face.
I glance briefly at Andrew and he’s not even looking up at Eli, but right at me. He’s one of the most intelligent people I’ve ever met, able to find patterns that most people would never see. He’s compiling everything he’s seen tonight into a Faye and Eli folder in his brain, coming to the same conclusion that I have.
What Eli and I share is beyond friendship now.
