Chapter 4
Chapter four
WE NEED TO BE EXTRA VIGILANT
When we step outside of the Book Monika is my only friend these days, and Gabe’s family is all back in Manhattan.
The thought did cross my mind that they might try and pack the place with people in an attempt to get me “back out there.”
Wine glasses and vases overflowing with hot-pink ranunculus run down the middle of the table, and Scott sets the cake and pizza boxes at the head. My stomach growls despite its uneasiness as Gabe flips the lids to our favorite hole-in-the-wall pizza joint.
“Mushroom for us, and the small one is Hawaiian for Scott,” Gabe announces. “I made sure to tell them we had a citrus allergy in our party, so there shouldn’t be any cross-contamination.”
“Don’t give me that look,” Scott argues. “I’m not flying coast to coast in the span of forty-eight hours and not getting my favorite childhood pizza.”
“It’s fine,” I say, relaxing a bit more at the fact that he said forty-eight hours, which means he is likely leaving tomorrow instead of tonight. That is one less worry on my ever-growing list. “Pineapple isn’t citrus, so even if there was cross-contamination, it wouldn’t affect me.”
“See?” Scott smiles triumphantly, but it quickly inverts to a frown. “You’re still having the mushroom, right?”
“Don’t worry, it’s all yours.”
Monika goes behind the bar, crouching down to survey the chilled drink selection.
Any hint of the awkwardness from a moment ago is gone, and she is back to her normal self.
Maybe Gabe was right, and she was just nervous about how I would react.
She catches me looking at her and smiles.
“Drew, what wine are you in the mood for?”
I stiffen at her question, because just when one worry goes away, another danger pops up in its place like whack-a-mole.
We all need to drive home after this: Monika and I to our apartments, and Gabe and Scott to whatever swanky hotel they are staying at.
Adding wine to the mix feels like tempting fate, especially since Gabe has only driven a car a handful of times, and Scott has never been the best at practicing moderation when free alcohol is involved.
“Probably a red, right?” Scott offers. “How about we just do one bottle tonight, to share?” This suggestion is his idea of a compromise, and even though I’d prefer that there be no alcohol at all, I can’t argue that one bottle between four people is not enough to impair any of us in a significant way, especially with dinner and dessert on the agenda.
They look expectantly at me. Maybe it’s the fact that nothing terrible has happened in the last few minutes, or that this compromise is a clear peace offering from Scott, but I concede. “Pinot Noir would pair well with the mushroom, but a Riesling would be better for the Hawaiian.”
“I’m not picky, so Noir it is,” Scott says, handing out plates and taking the seat next to me, leaving Gabe and Monika to sit across from us. He lowers his voice so only I can hear. “Is that okay?”
“I should be asking you the same question. Normally, you try to drink as much wine as humanly possible when you visit.”
He shrugs. “I just saw you scanning the room for threats. Maybe I don’t need to be one of them.”
“She also scanned the parking lot,” Gabe adds, but has the decency to look sheepish when I shoot him a look across the table.
Before I have the chance to remind them why I am being so vigilant, Monika pulls the cork out of the wine, and I jump at the sound.
The cork only made a quiet pop, nothing like a champagne bottle, but I am pretty sure there was clearance between my bottom and the seat.
Scott and Gabe exchange a look as Monika leans in and fills my glass with the dark red liquid, putting her free hand on my shoulder.
“Everything is okay. We’re safe. Now, drink up. ”
I do as I’m told, and the pinot immediately gets to work loosening my tight shoulders, allowing me to take my first full breath of the day. I raise the glass to take another sip and have to stifle a laugh when Monika swipes a slice from Scott’s box, much to his chagrin.
“To Drew!” she says, pulling the stolen piece of pizza out of Scott’s reach, then raising her glass into the air.
“No!” I blurt, spitting out the wine that I just sipped in the process.
“What?” Monika asks, looking wildly from side to side.
“I already drank some!” I use my napkin to dab at the wine rolling down my chin. “It’s bad luck!”
Scott sighs, and Monika’s eyebrows knit as she ponders my declaration. Even though she swears she doesn’t believe I am cursed, she lowers her glass. “No toast then.”
Scott opens his mouth to protest, but Monika makes a show of taking a huge bite of the piece of Hawaiian pizza she stole from his pie. His frustration with me is easily diverted to her flagrant show of defiance. I give her a thankful smile across the table, and she returns it with a wink.
Maybe it’s the pizza from our childhood, or the wine, or the way we fall right back into old conversations despite the massive elephant in the room, but I eventually relax and find myself truly enjoying their company.
I even laugh, the second time since they’ve arrived, as Scott yanks the pizza box away from Monika’s reach when she tries to swipe another slice.
But then the conversation hits a lull, and Monika clears her throat. “Enough chitchat. We have some serious things to discuss.”
My back goes straight as a rod as she looks pointedly at my brother and his husband.
“Not tonight,” Scott says, much to my relief.
I reel as Monika wags her eyebrows, as if she sees his response as a challenge she wants to overcome. While usually neutral in our family arguments over how I am living my life, she seems awfully excited to get this dreaded conversation going.
“Oh, come on,” Monika says in another attempt to rouse the conversation. I shoot her a look of disgust that she promptly waves off. “It’s been a year, and we’ve been very patient. Who knows when we will all be together again?”
Scott remains tight-lipped, but Gabe is failing miserably to contain a grin that has taken over his entire face. For Monika to be bringing up our family drama is a strange role reversal, and for Gabe to be smiling . . .
I look back to Scott for answers, but he just shakes his head and repeats, “Not tonight. We’re celebrating Drew. It can wait.”
“No, it can’t,” Monika declares, and avoids my gaze as I shoot daggers at her across the table.
“Tomorrow, at breakfast,” Gabe affirms, although the way he is bouncing out of his seat is reminiscent of a kid who was just told that they are going to Disneyland in the morning.
“Drew and I are opening the store tomorrow, so we need to do this tonight, otherwise we won’t have time to ask our million questions, and trust me, I have a million.
Most importantly, when will the nursery be set up?
I am running out of room in my closet for all the clothes and diapers I have been stockpiling. ”
Oh, that news.
It has been a little over a year since they started the adoption process, but he would have called if there was anything important to share, no matter how much I pushed him away.
I’m certain of it. And there is no way he would be here without the baby if they already had a placement. The way Gabe is smiling, though . . .
“How about this?” Scott says, producing a light purple envelope from one of the bags on the chair next to him.
My stomach sinks at the sight of it. “Drew opens her present, we have some cake, then we share our news. I’ve seen Drew eyeing the cake box all night, so if she throws a fit after she opens it, we might be able to convince her to stay for the tiramisu. ”
I eye the purple envelope suspiciously, but nod in agreement, just to be safe. If there is baby news, I want to hear it.
“This is from all of us,” my brother says, and hands the envelope over in my direction.
The return of Scott’s tentative smile confirms what I already know: Whatever is in the mysterious envelope is something that I will refuse.
Either that, or maybe there isn’t really any baby news at all, and he’s just using every tool in his arsenal to get his way. The happiness I felt just moments ago rapidly dissipates.
“How about you open your present, I share our news, and then we celebrate both things with cake,” Scott offers, noting my hesitation.
“So, you’re saying that your news is something to celebrate?” Monika interjects, but Scott waves her off.
“Nice try, Monika, but Drew needs to go first.”
I stare at the envelope. I made it crystal clear last year, and every year before that, that I did not want presents on my birthday.
That receiving gifts on this date was unacceptable.
Yet here we are again, repeating the same song and dance.
They celebrate me against my will, they get me a present against my will, and then we fight about it.
Well, Scott and I are technically the only ones who fight. Gabe and Monika are just along for the ride and jump in when things get hairy.
“Fine,” I concede. I’m not sure I have the strength to duke it out for yet another year, so I run my finger under the seal.
The card is thick. Best-case scenario, it shoots confetti at my face.
Worst case, it’s a gift card with an exorbitant amount of money on it or another trip to a wellness spa.
I hope for the former and angle the card accordingly so that I am not hit straight on by little pieces of plastic that will surely lodge themselves into my eyeballs and require an urgent care visit.
No such luck. As I open the card, multiple pieces of folded-up computer paper fall out onto the table. I ignore the paper like a kid who just opened up a card full of cash from their grandmother and scan the birthday sentiments.
Scott’s note is a joke about me being old, and Gabe’s is practically an essay about how much he loves me, which helps me to relax a fraction.
Gabe hates confrontation and wouldn’t want to fight again either, so maybe the paper is a typed apology from the three of them for forcing their will on me for so long.
Or maybe it’s something small like a subscription to a crocheting magazine.
I mentioned offhand to Monika last month that I wanted to get into knitting but quickly amended that to crocheting once I saw the instruments required.
My hopes of a small, simple gift that I would consider accepting are dashed when I get to Monika’s note, though.
Happy birthday, Drew. We hope this trip is the first step in you starting to enjoy life again, because you deserve it! All my love, Monika.
Traitor comes to mind as I look down at her handwriting. While Scott always leads the fight, and Gabe is historically neutral, I could always count on Monika to err towards my side.
“You’ll like this one, I promise,” she says, as if she can read my mind.
I cannot bring myself to meet her eyes. Instead, I look to Gabe, who surely wouldn’t have written a short story about how much he loves me just to force me into something he knew I wouldn’t want.
He gives me a reassuring nod, and I decide to rip off the Band-Aid.
If he and Monika are both in on it, it can’t be that bad.