Page 83 of Two is a Pattern

“Am too.”

“You’re going to fall asleep just like last year.”

“Staying up until midnight isn’t so great,” Annie said. “It’s over in a flash, and all you get for your trouble is being tired the next day.”

“Then why do grown-ups make such a big deal out of it?” Kevin asked.

“Because grown-ups like to drink,” Ashley said.

“You mean Daddy,” Kevin said.

“Don’t worry about your daddy,” Annie suggested. “Your mother said he won’t be there.”

The conversation was interrupted when Helen opened the door and slipped into the driver’s seat. She fastened her seatbelt and started the car.

“Mom, can I stay up until midnight?” Kevin asked.

“You can certainly try,” Helen said.

Annie reached out and turned on the heat, fiddling with the vents so that warm air would blow on her legs.

“Don’t worry.” Helen glanced over. “Sal’s place will be warm with so many people.”

“Yeah.” Annie turned around and gave Ashley a wink.

“How come Zach can’t come?” Kevin asked.

Helen pulled out onto the road. “Because it’s past his bedtime and because Justin is saving up for college, so I hire him whenever I can.”

“How come you don’t hire me for stuff?” Kevin asked.

“Because you don’t know how to do anything that’s worth money,” Ashley said.

“Hey!”

“What if we sat in silence, hmm?”

The kids clammed up. They knew their mother well enough to know that her suggestion was an order, and no one wanted to arrive at a party already in trouble.

The kids went right upstairs to play with their cousins. Annie was introduced to the few people who had arrived early—some of Sal’s work colleagues, family members she’d met at Ashley’s birthday party. People complimented her hair, her dress, her makeup, but she still felt like a fish out of water. She rarely bothered to make friends. She was bad at anything that wasn’t work or school.

“Here, kiddo,” Sal said when Annie wandered into the kitchen. “Helen says you’re a deft hand at a bar. Can you help me set up?”

“I can even bartend.”

Sal’s face lit up. “Seriously?”

“Sure,” Annie said. “It would give me something to do.” Something besides wandering from room to room, sitting awkwardly next to someone she barely knew or standing stiffly listening to other people talk. Something besides watching Helen and then deciding she was watching her too much butnot being able to stop. Walking away, then finding her again. Everything a cycle, like when the washer load was unbalanced and the machine rocked against the wall. Annie—an uneven load.

She played bartender like it was a role, a persona she could slip on for the evening. She could be flirty enough to make everyone feel special. Laugh at their jokes, roll her eyes with the women behind the men’s backs. She could make most drinks without looking them up. One old portly fellow she didn’t recognize asked for a Manhattan and was about to tell her how to make it when she smiled sweetly and said, “Why, that’s my daddy’s favorite drink.”

“My father,” Sal said, walking up after he left the room, “in from Texas.”

“Very pleasant fellow.” Annie topped off Sal’s flute of champagne.

“Liar.”

Annie shrugged. “Your brother looks like him.”

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