On the Verge (20 page)

“This is it.” I stop and turn to him. Should I invite him up? No, he can’t see my apartment, I can’t remember the last time we cleaned.

“Eve, I have to go to the L.A. office until after the New Year.” He probably has a girlfriend in L.A., some aspiring actress… “Don’t look like that, I don’t want to go, I hate L.A. I was hoping to spend Christmas with my parents for a change.”

“When are you leaving?”

“Friday morning. I’ll call you.” Now I’m the one who is going to be waiting on a call from god knows where. I can’t deal.

“No, Rob, don’t call, you can just wait until you get back.”

“Eve, c’mon, don’t be upset. I had a great time with you tonight.” He tips my chin up to look at him. I reach up and touch his sexy, arching brow and then we kiss for a while against the door. I can tell he is getting into it, and so am I.

“You can come up if you want.”

“I want to, Eve, but…” I don’t know what his “but” is, but I definitely have some “buts” of my own. I decide to just kiss him.

“All right, good night.” I kiss him for a little bit longer and go upstairs. Tabitha and Roseanne are sitting on the couch, poised for interrogation.

“Why did he leave?”

“Are you going to get a promotion now?”

I cannot believe them.

“Were you guys spying on me?” They look at each other and
shrug. I want to tell them all about my date, but I’ll let them sweat it out a little. I like being the one with the story. I take my time with my nightly rituals. I stare at my eyebrows in the mirror and examine my teeth.

When I get back out and I’m ready to talk, the lights are out and Roseanne is in her cranny and Tabitha is asleep on my bed. So much for their curiosity. Looks like I have to figure this out for myself. On the couch.

Rob doesn’t call me on Thursday. I spend most of the day entering data, because the office will be closed a couple of days for the holidays. Tabitha can’t hold out anymore and she invites me to hit Fifth Avenue with her for a few quick sprees before her trip. She’s already spent far too much money on coordinated luggage, but she insists she just needs a few more things. She gets all the details out of me and is not as fascinated by our passionate kissing as she is with the reason for him being here.

“Wow! So heads are going to roll.”

“Probably not our heads, we’re too low.”

“Yeah, but it could totally shake things up around here. You could be like a spy for all the people who suspect they’re going down.”

“Tabitha, I just want him to call again.”

“He will, maybe when he gets back.”

“I don’t want us all to be pining away for these jet-setting guys. Our lives are exciting enough, I don’t need to be waiting by the phone.”

“Yeah, Roseanne is pretty into that Texan.”

“He’s a cutie. He said he’s from right outside of Houston—near you. You guys should hang out.”

“Yeah, we could share our Texan pride.”

“He’s got an accent, though. You don’t have one at all.”

“Thankfully.”

“Is your family upset that you won’t be spending Christmas with them?”

“I doubt they’ll notice.” Tabitha will never talk about her family. I imagine this really cold, rich family having no idea what to do with this crazy super-cool New York mover and shaker daughter.

“Do you want to come over tonight? We can exchange presents. I mean, I can give you your present.”

“Don’t worry, Eve, I got you something.”

When I get back from shopping, there is one message. It’s La
cey, who needs me to messenger something from her desk to her at home. She isn’t feeling well today so she isn’t coming in (can we say six-day weekend?). I do it and stare at the phone a while before I decide to call it a day. I’m looking forward to going to Jersey tomorrow. Even with my sister there, it will be nice to wake up at home.

I buy some apple cider and some spiced rum. Roseanne is home early and she has lambchops in the oven and is making some cranberry and wild rice side dish. Every day my apartment looks more and more like a gourmet magazine cover. I tell Roseanne that Tabitha and I are going to exchange presents, and to my surprise she says that she has something for Tabitha, too.

We have a pretty mellow night. After dinner, we eat some of the chocolate cake Tabitha made. It’s awful, which to me, is a little comforting. Tabitha gives Roseanne her present first. It’s a crepe pan, a pretty expensive one, too. Roseanne is so touched.

“I figured I would get used to eating them in ‘Gay Paree’ and no one else could make them for me. It’s selfish really.” Tabitha also gives Roseanne some MAC makeup. Roseanne is a little surprised, but seems to like the colors. It might be the start of a new Roseanne. Roseanne gives Tabitha a (get this) handmade porcelain ornament with her name on it. It’s really delicate.

“Oooh, I hope Jaques has a tree.” There is also a pillow for the airplane and a trashy novel. They hug again. It’s almost too much for me. Tabitha gives me a sexy, yet classy silk nightie with a matching robe and some perfume, which I love. Tabitha adores her pendant from Tiffany’s. Roseanne gives me a woolen scarf that she knit and a pair of short classy silver earrings that I was looking at in Tiffany’s (now I have my own blue bag). She loves her cookbook and she declares her new shirt a New Year’s “Eve” shirt. We talk for a while about what we are going to do for New Year’s, but we don’t dwell because Tabitha won’t be with us. With all this love and Christmas cheer we are like the Three Musketeers.

After Tabitha leaves, I do the dishes. Roseanne and I discuss the possibility of having a New Year’s party. Later, I lie in bed and think about Christmas for a while. I used to have a major countdown starting right after Thanksgiving. I’m not as aware of it anymore, but as cheesy as it can be, I still go for all that stuff. Especially the present part. I mean you can’t say “Merry Christmas” or “Happy Holidays” enough. I’ll be sad when the tree comes down in the lobby.

“Somebody has an admirer,” Lorraine says. I look up from my computer and one of our messengers, Ben, is holding a big bouquet of flowers. I don’t believe they’re for me, but they are. Lorraine hovers around my desk. “Well, aren’t you going to read the card?”

“No, don’t get excited, they’re probably from my mom.”

“Looks like an awfully expensive bunch from your mom. I’ll let you keep your admirer a secret.” She leaves, but of course, now Brian needs to know.

“What are those?” he says, standing by my desk.

“Poisonous herbs that will fend off the unwanted stupid questions of those around me.” He shuffles over to his desk. I open the card.

The flowers are beautiful, but it would’ve been nice to get a phone call. It’s going to be hell taking these home on the train and I can only imagine what my mom is going to say. I’m sure she will embarrass me in front of my entire family over Christmas dinner and then my sister will make some comment about the wastefulness of flowers.

I try calling Rob, just to thank him (it’s the right thing to do). Sherman answers and makes me identify myself before he tells me that Rob is already out of the office. He won’t confirm that he is in L.A.

Herb comes over to make sure I sent out the company Christmas cards. He actually asks about my holiday plans. I wonder if he’s acting interested in me because somehow he found out I went out on a date with Rob. He takes out a small wrapped box and hands it to me.

“Just a thank you for all you do.” Wow! I open it. It’s a Christmas ornament that looks like something from the fifties.

“Wow! Thank you. Thanks a lot.”

The nice thing about leaving for the holiday is that everyone is in a good mood. Despite how harried this time is, most people hug each other before they go. I go visit Joe and Adam and eat some Christmas cookies that are in their conference room. I tell them I’ll let them know after the break if we are going to have a New Year’s Eve party.

It’s a relief to be on the train to Jersey, even though I get tons of dirty looks as I push on with my flowers. Everyone else is loaded up with packages, so I don’t know how or why I should be singled out. Monica is waiting for me at the station. I can tell by her expression that it isn’t going well. I attempt to be cheerful.

“What are those?” She nods to the flowers. I decide to practice my story.

“One of our advertisers sent them to the magazine and I was the only one who wanted to take them home. I thought Ma would like them for the table.”

“Can you believe they’re starting with the church thing again?” I know that’s a lie. Every year it’s the same. My sister comes home and, just to antagonize them, announces that there is no way in hell she is going to Christmas Eve mass. They fight, she cries, she complains to her friends, but she always winds up going and the next day, Christmas, there is all kinds of residual bitterness.

“Monica, I know you’re the one starting it. I really want to enjoy my time at home. Do you think for a change you could just suck it up and be mature and go to church since you know you’re going to wind up doing it anyway? We’re not kids anymore.”

She doesn’t say a word to me for the rest of the day, she just mopes around her room. I help my mom with all the cooking (Roseanne is rubbing off on me). I spend a lot of time watching Christmas shows and just vegging. Monica finally breaks down on Christmas Eve when I lean across the pew and offer her my hand. The classic “peace be with you” thing.

“And also with you,” she says, but I’m not sure she means it.

Christmas morning. Although the four of us are adults now, we like to feign surprise that Santa has actually visited us. We even put out cookies for Santa and carrots for the deer. We all sit in the living room in our pajamas and ooh and ahh over every gift. This year, since I’ve been sleeping in the living room, I’m awakened by my mother’s squeal. I sit up on the couch and she looks at me and says, with all seriousness, “Eve, I can’t believe Santa didn’t wake you up.”

My dad makes coffee and we have some leftover fish from last night (yes, it’s only 10:30 a.m.) and thus the Christmas ritual begins. Even the gift tags are marked—some are from Santa and some from my parents. (Although it seems like everyone forgot me this year.) Everything is for Monica. My parents love the gifts we got them, but one after another, it’s a wretched sweater for
Monica or a new comforter for Monica and I am trying not to be selfish, but it’s Christmas, for Christ’s sake, where are my gifts?

“I guess that’s it,” says my cold, heartless mother.

“More coffee anyone?” asks my mean, negligent father.

“I guess I’ll have some.” I might as well get something out of this whole thing. When my father comes back in he’s is carrying a big box. The three of them are thrilled with themselves for fooling me and I rip off the paper and (oh, my God!) it’s a computer.

“Wow! I can’t believe it! This is awesome!”

“I’m glad you like it, it’s from all of us and Santa.” My dad encourages this Santa thing, too. I think it’s so he can eat the extra cookies off Santa’s plate.

“It’ll help with your writing.” I can’t believe my parents know me so well, what I want and need and support me in what I want to do. “I just hope it won’t get stolen out of your apartment.”

I can’t even get annoyed about that. I just hug all around and say, “This is the best Christmas ever.” My sister hands me another wrapped box. “This is so you won’t become a slave to the computer age. Don’t forget that pens exist.” It’s this amazing journal and two really nice pens. There’s a card inside that says, “So you can capture all your thoughts.”

“Thanks, Monica.” We women sit basking in gift glow and my dad goes to get more coffee. He answers the phone and it’s for me. We never get calls so early on Christmas morning, but I figure it’s Roseanne.

“Merry Christmas,” says the warm male voice on the line.

“Rob?” I can’t believe it.

“How’s it going, Ms. Vitali? Was Santa good to you?”

“Yeah, great, I got a computer. Oh, and a little elf brought me some flowers on Friday. Thank you.”

“Yeah, I’m sorry I couldn’t call, Eve, I wanted to.”

“That’s okay, God, it must be what, 7:30 there, why are you up so early?”

“I went for a run. This is the first free time I’ve had since I got here. The weather’s great, but I could go for some snow.”

“Yeah, me, too. I love white Christmases. When are you coming back?”

“Not until the third. Listen, can we have dinner when I get back?”

“Of course.” My mother comes into the kitchen and I can tell she’s eavesdropping. I ignore her. “Your friends in high places must have worked real hard on this one.”

“No, your parents are listed, you told me Oradell.” Oh, right.

“Well, I should go, my relatives are coming over.” My mother has decided now would be the best time to refill the sugar bowl.

“Well, have a great day and I’ll call you when I get back.”

I try to escape the kitchen right after I hang up, but it doesn’t work. My mother asks me if I need more coffee, which means she is able to get me into a conversation with her. “Who was that boy?”

“Just someone from work.” He is
so
not a boy.

“On Christmas.” I give my mother a kiss and thank her for the computer again. I can tell she is not happy to let the boy subject drop. Any minute now she might tell me that I shouldn’t give in to boys, I should be creative.

When I get back to my apartment Roseanne is already there. My dad is with me, so that he can set up my computer. As soon as she sees my father, Roseanne starts apologizing for not having made anything. It takes us about two hours to set the thing up. Surprisingly, my dad knows a lot more about computers than I do. I offer him a beer and we sit on my bed, as he shows me all the functions that the sales guy told him about in Computer World. It’s kind of cool to see my dad so animated about something.

“Hey, Daddy, maybe you should get a computer.”

“Yeah, we don’t really have the money right now.”

“Can’t you write it off as a business expense?” My father gives me one of those looks he reserves for the times I bring up matters that he thinks are specifically adult, like rent, bills, taxes. He nods at me.