Playing House--Chapter Eight
Ginny’s contribution to the bridal shower came in the form of buying the soda. She met Bryn at a mega-strip mall in the suburbs. The discount grocery store had soda on sale. It being Memorial Day weekend, the parking lot was packed. The sun was out, which no doubt added to the deluge of shoppers. Ginny could think of many things she’d rather be doing on a sunny Saturday afternoon. Going for a long calorie-burning, stress-reducing bike ride for example. Not that there was any reason for her to dread the party. She only had to suffer through a few hours of her relatives congratulating her sister on marrying the guy that she’d planned to marry. This was sure to be loads of fun.
Ginny met Bryn in the parking lot.
“How was your date with Hank?” Bryn asked.
“Fine.”
“Fine? That’s it? I want details.”
“There’s nothing to tell. Hank and I didn’t click. Anyway, I’m sort of seeing the guy from the dating site.”
“Scorching hot guy?”
“Yes. Pierce.”
“What’s he do?”
Ginny told her.
“He’s a mechanic?” Bryn’s nose wrinkled.
“He owns the business.”
“How many times have you gone out?”
Ginny already wished that she hadn’t mentioned Pierce. “A few. I don't know if it’s going to turn into anything. It’s no big deal.”
“More than two dates is a big deal for you.”
“Ha. Ha.”
“I wasn’t being sarcastic.”
This, of course, made the comment worse. They were almost to the cart corral, which contained one cart, when a woman in a pink sweat-suit darted in front of them and grabbed it.
“It’s going to be a zoo in there,” Bryn said. “We should go somewhere else.”
“I can’t afford to go anywhere else.” Ginny thought of the dress she’d put on her credit card the weekend before and the money she’d agreed to pitch in for Tex. “This store is having a sale. Since you think we need soda as well as punch, I might as well buy it on sale.”
“You know how the Cotton cousins are about their soda.”
“I don’t see why they can’t drink punch for one evening.”
“Some of the cousins canceled camping trips to come to my party. I want everyone to be happy.”
Ginny sighed. “If sugar, caffeine, and cavities are the only thing that will make them happy, who am I to argue?”
Bryn reached for a newly released cart. “Got one.”
There was a traffic jam in the soda aisle. A woman with more children than food in her cart was staring at the prices, one hand on her ample hip. A baby girl with snot on her face grabbed a handful of her brother's hair. The boy squeezed her hand until she released his hair. The baby screeched. The mother turned to glare at the boy. “Bother her one more time, and you're getting a spanking when we get home.”
Bryn put her thumbs in her ears, stuck out her tongue, and wiggled her fingers at the kid. He giggled and copied the motion.
His mother turned to Ginny. “Can you make sense of this sign?”
The sign was the reason Ginny had come here. “It says buy two, get two free.”
A tall, skinny man with a handlebar mustache tried to push his cart past them. There wasn’t room. The wheel nicked Ginny’s baby toe. “Ouch!”
“Learn to drive,” Bryn said.
He turned around, looked Bryn up and down and pointed at the front of his T-shirt, which had a saying offering free mustache rides.
“In your dreams, jerk,” Bryn said.
“Your loss.” He pushed his way down the aisle.
“It’s always so freaking crazy here,” the young mother said. “What if I only want two? If I buy two twelve-packs can I get one of them for free?”
“I’m pretty sure you have to get a total of four.” Ginny wished the woman would get the heck out of the way so that she could grab her four.
“It doesn’t make sense to me.” The woman slowly loaded a twelve pack onto the bottom of her cart. “I mean, they’re making us buy more than we want.”
Ginny didn’t point out that no one was forcing her to buy the soda. Her toe hurt.
Finally, the woman moved on. Ginny reached for a twelve pack. A hand appeared in front of her. “Excuse me.”
“No,” Ginny said, “it’s my turn. You excuse me.”
Ignoring the woman’s frown, Ginny and Bryn grabbed their four twelve-packs of soda and moved on, inching their way down the crowded aisle.
“Should I warn everyone to move out of your way?” Bryn asked.
“I just want to get out of here.”
At the checkout, they found long lines.
Bryn picked up a tabloid. “Oh my God, I can’t believe Kim was caught wearing that in public.”
Ginny rolled her eyes. She had no interest in what the reality star wore.
Bryn flipped through the pages. “I can’t see you dating a mechanic, especially not a hot one. You’d be better off with someone like Hank, less attractive, but with a good job.”
“There’s nothing wrong with Pierce’s job. And why shouldn't I date a hot guy?”
“Attractive men are more likely to be unfaithful.”
“Don't tell me you read that in one of these.” Ginny indicated the magazines.
“Yes. I also read that men with high testosterone are more likely to cheat. It’s their unconscious, biological need to impregnate as many women as possible. Men with less testosterone make better mates. They’re more likely to stick around and participate in child rearing.”
“That’s very useful information, Bryn. I’ll be sure to ask every prospective date to get his testosterone levels checked before I make any commitments.”
“All I’m saying is that certain traits are better in the long run. Average looking guys who don't have especially strong sex drives might not be exciting to date, but they make the best husbands.”
“Are you trying to give me advice, or is this your explanation for why you’re marrying Jason?”
“I’m trying to look out for you is all. I’d hate to see you get hung up on some good looking guy and get hurt.” Bryn shoved the magazine back in its slot upside-down and backward, took a twelve pack of soda out of the cart, and set it on the conveyor belt. “As for Jason, he’s going to be a great dad and a good husband. A guy who has the self -control to wait for marriage won’t cheat. He’s all mine.”
All mine. It was as if Bryn intentionally chose the words she knew would hurt the most. Ginny set a twelve pack on the belt. “It doesn't sound very romantic when you put it like that. More like a practical decision.”
“There’s no reason why love can’t also be practical. I guess I can’t expect you to understand since you’ve never been in love. Or have you?”
She knows. The thought came out of nowhere. It had to be wrong. No way would Bryn have gone for Jason knowing that Ginny was in love with him. “Yes, actually, I have been in love. Have you?”
“What kind of a question is that?” Bryn dropped the next twelve pack of soda onto the belt so hard that the young clerk jumped.
“Sorry,” Ginny said.
“No problem.” The clerk waved her hand encouraging them to continue. “This is the most interesting conversation I’ve heard all day.”
Neither Ginny nor Bryn spoke again until they were in the parking lot. Bryn opened the trunk of her car, and there it was—the giant plastic piggy bank. She took it out. “Let's load the soda into the trunk, and I'll put Piggy in the back seat.”
“You’re not really going to put that thing out?”
“If you’re going to tell me how tacky it is, don’t bother. You’ve already expressed your opinion on that subject, remember?”
“Fine, I’ll keep my opinion to myself.”
“That’ll be a first.”
Ginny stalked off, leaving Bryn to do the loading herself. She drove home. The party wouldn’t be starting for two more hours. She put on her bike shorts. Despite her aching toe, she went on a long, calorie-burning, stress-relieving, bike ride.
****
Uncle Vic and Aunt Maureen lived in a wealthy suburb of Portland. Their house was modest by local standards. A ranch, built in the fifties, it was L-shaped. The lower part of the L had been added on as the party room. The couple loved to entertain. Judging by the number of cars lining the street, the party was already in full swing. The party room was designed to look like a 1950’s diner. The flooring was black and white squares. Against one wall, were booths with red vinyl seats.
On the walls were posters of movie stars from the fifties and sixties, along with photos from previous parties. Grandma Cotton had once attended as a waitress on roller skates. Ginny smiled every time she saw the photo. The room was filled with Cotton cousins, aunts, and uncles. Jason had invited a few friends from chess club, but they couldn't make it, as they were all at a chess tournament this weekend. Ginny spotted Cousin Callie holding a blue bundle and rushed over to see the baby.
“He’s beautiful.” Ginny blinked, embarrassed that the sight of a newborn brought tears to her eyes. “And you look great.”
“Don't lie to me.” Callie grabbed a roll of belly flab. “I gained thirty pounds with this kid and only lost eighteen after he was born. You, on the other hand, have lost weight since I saw you last.”
“Nine pounds so far.” Ginny had lost one more pound as of this morning.
“What a coincidence, that’s exactly how much Logan weighed. If only that was all I gained. Do you want to hold him?”
“Silly question.” Ginny held out her arms. She sat on the sofa, gazing at Logan's tiny bow-shaped mouth. His lips moved even in sleep as if he thought only of food. There was a wisp of soft blonde hair on his head. She trailed her finger over Logan's tiny perfect ears while Callie told the long version of his birth, cheerfully going into far too much detail about torturous labor that ended in a cesarean because the baby's head was too big to fit through her pelvis. Ginny and Callie's mothers stood close by, telling nightmarish stories of their own. Ginny barely listened, her focus on the dozing baby and how right he felt in her arms. She breathed in the scent of baby powder as if it were expensive perfume and opened the receiving blanket as if she were unwrapping a delicate Christmas present. His hands were perfectly formed, his skin the softest thing she’d ever felt.
“So what’s new with you, Ginny?” Callie asked.
Let’s see, my sister stole my guy, though neither he nor she knew that he was mine, so I found a hot guy to have sex with, but…
Ginny sighed. “Nothing.”
Bryn showed up, insisted that Ginny had held Logan long enough and demanded a turn. Ginny reluctantly handed him over. When Bryn started in on her plan to have three children with Jason, Ginny went off to find food. She munched on raw veggies while visiting with various relatives, asking about their lives, admiring their children and avoiding Bryn and Jason. She held another cousin's baby, eleven-month-old Joe, who was as heavy as a tank, and content to be passed around as long as no one took away the bread crust he was gnawing on. Ginny chatted with Cousin Angel, a twelve-year-old whose real name was Belinda. The girl had white-blonde hair and pale blue eyes. Grandpa Cotton had dubbed her Angel because it suited her and it had stuck. Sweet and smart, she'd learned to read at four and devoured books with as much enthusiasm as Joe ate bread crusts. Ginny spent fifteen minutes discussing The Hunger Games with her, and whether or not such events could happen in real life.
Grandma Cotton joined in, as she too had read the books. The three of them were deep in conversation when Jason approached with his mom. Evelyn, a petite, fragile-looking woman, was in her early sixties but looked more like seventy-five. Her hands were always red, as if she'd just finished doing the dishes, and were forever gripping something, in this case, the straps of her purse.
“Hi Evelyn, have you met my grandmother?”
“I don’t think so.”
Grandma Cotton introduced herself as Virginia and complimented Evelyn on her earrings.
“Thank you.” Evelyn touched one delicate, white gold, cross. “Jason bought them for me for Christmas. I’ve never approved of the commercialization of Christmas, all that Black Friday nonsense. He knew that I’d appreciate a tasteful gift, one that reminds me of our savior. My pastor agrees that I must have raised him right…”
It went on this way for awhile. When Evelyn got going, there was no give and take. She talked, and others nodded politely, waiting for the moment when they could make their escape. Angel got out fast, slipping away virtually unnoticed. Grandma Cotton was stuck, but a good sport about it until Evelyn started talking about the moral decline of society and the evil wrought by liberal democrats, at which point Grandma Cotton excused herself and joined Walter and Vic who were standing nearby, discussing a dead tree on her property, and whether they should hire someone to remove it, or take it out themselves. Naturally, they were leaning toward doing it themselves. Ginny hoped they’d do it when her mom was at work, and not tell her about it first, so she wouldn’t make everyone crazy worrying that someone would end up dead.
Stuck, Ginny continued to listen and nod until finally, Evelyn excused herself to use the bathroom. Ginny made her way back to the food table. Bryn and Jason were there with Britney and Carissa. Ginny put two crackers, two slices of turkey and two slices of cheese onto her plate.
“How did it go last night?” Jason asked.
Ginny’s first thought was of Pierce and their game of half-naked house. Of course, Jason didn’t know about that. He was asking about her date with Hank. “Fine.”
“She’s not into Hank,” Bryn said.
“Why not?” Jason asked. “He’s a good guy.”
“Who is Hank?” Britney asked.
“He works with Jason. He’s an engineer. Smart.” Bryn motioned with the hand holding her non-virgin punch, causing some of it to slosh over the side of her glass. “He makes good money.”
“Is he hot?” Carissa stabbed a mini wiener with a toothpick and popped it into her mouth.
“Average,” Ginny said.
“Is he nice?” Britney asked.
Her last boyfriend had cheated on her, and the one before that had cheated with her though she hadn’t known it at the time. Hank didn’t seem like the cheating type.
“You might like him,” Ginny said.
“Ginny’s seeing someone else,” Bryn said.
“Do tell,” Carissa said. “Is he hot?”
“Yes,” Ginny said.
“She called him scorching hot,” Bryn said, with obvious disbelief.
“Scorching?” Jason raised an eyebrow. “Is this the guy you met through the dating site?”
“Yes.”
“Got a photo?” Carissa asked.
Yes, Ginny realized, she did have a photo. She pulled her phone from her purse and brought up the photo of Pierce standing in front of the barbecue. She handed it to Carissa.
“He’s hot.” She passed the phone to Britney.
“I don’t suppose he has a brother,” Britney said.
“Not only does Pierce have a brother, he has an identical twin.”
“He’s probably taken.” Britney passed the phone to Bryn.
“He’s not,” Ginny said.
“I think scorching is a bit of an exaggeration,” Bryn said. “He’s a mechanic. I’d never date a guy who always has grease under his fingernails.”
“Sweetheart,” Aunt Maureen said, arriving in time to hear Bryn’s comment. “There is nothing wrong with a man who does physical labor for a living. My advice to all you girls is to never marry a man who is afraid of getting his hands dirty. It may not be romantic, but when the oil needs changing or the gutters need cleaning, you want a man who will jump right in and fix it.”
“But if he makes enough money, you can just call a repairman.” Bryn reached for one of Jason’s always-clean hands.
“If only it were that simple.” Maureen sighed. “Someday you’ll find out that household emergencies always happen at the worst possible time, usually weekends and holidays when there are no repair people available. Who is this man we’re talking about anyway?”
“Ginny’s new boyfriend.” Bryn handed the phone to Maureen.
“He’s not my boyfriend we’re barely dating.”
“Oh, he is attractive isn’t he?” Maureen said.
“Who is attractive?” Virginia asked as she joined them.
“Ginny’s boyfriend.” Maureen handed the phone to Ginny’s grandma.
“Have you been holding out on me?” Grandma Cotton asked.
“I met him on the dating site. We’ve only gone out a few times. It’s no big deal,” Ginny insisted, embarrassed at all the attention.
“He is a looker.” Grandma Cotton handed the phone back to Ginny. “What’s his name? What does he do?”
“Pierce Vaughn. He and his brother own Vaughn Brother’s Bikes, a motorcycle repair shop.”
“Can’t go wrong having a mechanic in the family,” Grandma Cotton said.
“He hasn’t exactly proposed,” Ginny said. “I mean, we’ve only gone out a few times.”
“If your luck is anything like mine, he probably won’t call again, now that you’ve told everyone about him,” Britney said.
Ginny wished that she hadn’t been thinking the same thing. “We’re having dinner at Chadwick’s tomorrow, so I know we’re going to have at least one more date.”
“Unless he stands you up,” Britney said. “That happened to me once. It was so humiliating. I was actually worried about the guy. I thought he might have been in a car accident or something. I could have forgiven him for that, but when I called him, he made up some lame excuse about his mom being sick, and he had to take care of her.”
There was an awkward pause while everyone felt sorry for Britney.
“What are you going to wear?” Maureen asked.
“I don't know. I haven't even thought about it yet.”
“I only ask because there’s a dress code at Chadwick’s, ties for men, and dresses for women.”
Pierce in a tie?
“It can take months to get a reservation,” Maureen said. “It runs around seventy a plate, and there's something like seven courses. Either your friend has money to throw around, or he's anxious to impress you.”
“We’re actually going with his—”
“Wear your red dress,” Grandma Cotton said. “It looks great on you.”
“Thank you. I’m planning on it.”
“Seven courses? The last guy I went out with took me to a place with a dollar menu,” Britney said. “The motorcycle business must be booming. Will you set me up with his brother?”
“Uh…”
“It’s too soon for that,” Carissa said. “You have to wait until Ginny has been dating him at least a month. Then you arrange to meet somewhere for drinks, where there’s no pressure.”
Thank you, Carissa.
“Waiting is too risky,” Britney said. “I mean, this isn’t likely to last long.”
“Gee, thanks,” Ginny said.
“It wasn’t anything against you,” Britney said.
Bryn giggled. “You have to admit, Ginny, you don’t have much of a track record. I mean you’ve had how many boyfriends? Not including the one in the fourth grade. Or maybe we’d better include him, to bring the number up to one.”
Ginny opened her mouth to throw an insult at Bryn, but nothing came out. Humiliated, she turned and walked away.
“I was kidding,” Bryn called after her. “Can’t you take a joke?”
Jokes were supposed to be funny. They weren’t supposed to be true.
Ginny slipped outside to the patio. It was shady here and cool, which was pleasant after all the body heat in the party room. She sat on the hanging swing, wishing the evening were over.
Jason came outside. “Got room for me?”
“Sure.” She scooted to one side.
“I’ve never seen Bryn more than tipsy. I can’t say I like it.”
“I know I don’t like it. Are you sure it’s a good idea to leave her in there with your mom?”
“Your mom is talking, or more accurately, listening, to my mom. My mom is going on about the second coming, which she expects to happen sometime in the near future.”
“Great, something else for my mom to worry about.”
Jason chuckled. “I hope she doesn't start in on gay marriage and how it’s going to lead to the moral decline of society.”
“Are you finally loosening your stance on that one?”
Jason shrugged.
“Does your mom know about Peter?”
“She knows I have a roommate, not that he’s gay. There’s no reason to tell her.”
They were quiet for a few minutes.
“When are we going to finish our game?” Jason asked.
He meant the chess game they’d started four months ago, right before he started dating Bryn.
Ginny shrugged. “I don’t know.”
“How about Monday night?” he asked.
“I’ll be at my parent’s house for Memorial Day. We’re going to visit the cemetery. I suppose we could do it in the evening.”
“Come over around seven then?”
“Sure.”
“Tell me about Pierce,” Jason said, after a bit.
“Well, let’s see, he plays poker, he’s good at barbecuing, and he looks hot in a motorcycle jacket and black boots.”
“Hm.”
“What does that mean?”
“He doesn't sound like your type.”
“I don’t see Pierce as being a type. He just is.”
“How many times have you been out with him?”
They'd only gone out once, to dinner that first night, but she'd spent five evenings with him, so she counted them all. “Five.”
“And he's taking you to that expensive restaurant?”
“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”
“It makes me wonder.”
“Wonder what, Jason?”
Jason let out a deep breath. “He's trying hard to impress you, and that makes me wonder what his intentions are.”
“Intentions?” Ginny shoved him, nearly knocking him off the swing, causing it to sway. “You did not just say that.”
“Sorry. I guess it did sound sort of fatherly.”
“Can you imagine my dad asking a guy what his intentions are?”
Jason smiled. “No. He'd make the poor guy admire his woodshop and his pet urns, and in this case, he’d show off his twenty-year-old Honda, too.”
“And offer him a beer and invite him to watch one of those car shows he likes.”
They both laughed.
“That’s a lot better than what happens at my house,” Jason said. “At least no one will insist that he go to church and repent his sins or go straight to hell, no passing go and no collecting two hundred dollars.”
The back door opened and Bryn stumbled out. “Since when is there a step there?”
“Since always,” Ginny said. “Maybe you should slow down on the punch.”
“I’m fine.” Bryn faced Jason, one hand on her hip. “I’ve been looking for you. People are starting to leave. You need to come in and say goodbye to them.”
She sounded so wifely.
Jason sighed and stood up.
Ginny stayed on the swing a few minutes longer, until the chilly air chased her inside.
(Happy Halloween Everyone!)