Page 50 of Come Back to Bed
“Because obviously I’m an infant.”
“And I wanted her to meet you! Liza, this is Matt McGill from upstairs! I don’t know why she’s crying—Liza why are you crying?”
“MattMcGovern. Hi, nice to meet you.” I hold out my hand to shake Liza’s.
“Oh yeah, I’m sure you’re thrilled to meet me,” Liza mutters. She turns to her aunt. “Was Bradley Cooper not available? Because there’s just as good a chance ofhimwanting to date me.” She turns back to me. “I’m so sorry you got dragged into this. Feel free to leave now and go to—yourGQphoto shoot or whatever.”
Bernadette is covering her mouth to keep from laughing out loud.
Regina Benson tries to loosen up her niece’s tight shoulders. “Don’t listen to her! Liza, you’ve been drinking, haven’t you?”
“Not nearly enough.”
“I’m uh—I’m happy to stay for dinner.”
“I just love being surrounded by youthful energy! Now that Liza’s finally here we can sit for dinner and you two can start getting to know each other.”
“Seriously. You don’t have to talk to me. As you can see, I’m not living my best life right now. You can go ahead and talk to the hot one over there.” She gestures towards Bernadette.
Trust me, Liza. I would very much like to.
Mrs. Benson has me and Bernadette help her bring out all five dishes at once, and they’re all lukewarm, even the salad.
“Let’s all go around the table and say our favorite book and why it’s our favorite! It’s a great conversation starter! I’ll go first!Eat, Pray, Love! Because it gave me the courage to open myself to love again after losing my Marty.”
“And how’s that working out for you, Reggie?” snipes Pearl from the other side of the table.
“Better than the Bumble app has been working for you, my dear. Bernadette, you next! Favorite book and why!”
Bernadette seems to have her answer ready, probably because she’s been to a dinner party here before. “My favorite book is calledJust Kidsby Patti Smith. It’s about her friendship with Robert Mapplethorpe and it’s beautifully written and I loved reading about two passionate young people in love with their art and New York and each other.”
“Wasn’t Mapplethorpe gay?” asks Carl.
“You’ll have to read the book,” she says, raising her shoulder to her chin, but I can tell she wants to punch this guy in the face.
“I’ll take your word for it. My favorite book is everything Stephen King has ever written because I like to read them and screw you to anyone who thinks he’s a hack.”
“I love all of his early work,” Liza practically yells out. “Up untilBag of Bones.”
“Well then, half-screw you.”
“I do find Stephen King’s work interesting from a pop culture standpoint,” says Pearl, as if giving a seminar, “but it’s hardly literature.”
“Nobody said it was!” both Carl and Liza blurt out at the same time.
“I have a long list of books that I’d call my favorite, but if I had to choose one, I’d say it’s Tolstoy’sWar and Peace.”
“As opposed to Danielle Steele’s War and Peace,” Mrs. Benson quips. She might be holding an imaginary cigarette.
Pearl ignores her and continues: “Of the hundreds of books I’ve read, it’s the most brilliant, profound, unpredictable and all-consuming.”
“Next!”
I’m not sure why Mrs. Benson invited Pearl, because they seem to hate each other, but she referred to her as the only friend she keeps in touch with from work. Also, I don’t really care about anything besides Bernadette right now I just hope no one can tell that I’m currently picturing her sliding off her chair under the table, and crawling towards me on her hands and knees…
The married couple talk over each other for five minutes, criticizing their spouse’s taste in absolutely everything, and Bernadette and I keep exchanging furtive glances while hiding our smirks behind wine glasses. When it’s time for me to proclaim my favorite book, the truth is thatNew York Contract Lawis my favorite book to refer to on a regular basis, but that usually leads to more questions about me being a lawyer and I don’t want to get into it with this crowd. This is the most awkward combination of dinner party guests I’ve ever seen.
“My favorite is whatever recipe book you used to cook this delicious meal, Mrs. Benson,” I say, without a hint of irony—really.
