The Spinster Sisters (23 page)

Look, we’re not saying he doesn’t care about you; we’re just saying that you may have unrealistic expectations of what he may be capable of in this relationship. And more importantly, why are you waiting around for him to start doing the things you want to do? Make the plans, set the dates, organize the events. Then invite him to participate or not as he chooses. But don’t sit on your butt and wait for it to all be his idea.

 
 
 
 
“Sorry I’m late,” I say, sliding into the booth across from Hunter at the Firehouse. “Where’s Jill?”

“Running late. She said you’d know what to order for her, and that she would be here in twenty minutes.” He grins and shakes his head. “She’s stuck in traffic on her way back from the hotel.”

“I forgot she was setting up the block of rooms for the out-of-town guests today.”

“She wanted to take a final tour of the suites for my folks. For some reason she’s certain they won’t be good enough.” Hunter runs his hands through his hair. “I know they’re sort of insufferable. I keep trying to tell Jill she can’t be so worried about them; they’ll find something to pick at regardless.”

“Jill can’t help wanting to be good to your family, Rusty; she loves you, and they come with you.”

“Well, I just don’t want her to feel like I expect it of her. I love them in spite of themselves, but I don’t go out of my way for them; it’s never worth it.”

“I think as long as you stand up for her and make it clear that they have to treat her with respect, you’ll all be fine,” I say and reach for a menu.

The waiter comes over, and we order three Caesar salads, a grilled grouper for Jill, pork chops for Hunter, and a steak for me.

“Where’s Connor, anyway?” Hunter asks after the waiter leaves to get our bottle of wine. “Wasn’t he supposed to be coming tonight?”

“Pipe burst in one of his new projects. He’s going to try to meet us in time for the play.” I’m trying to be light about it, but I’m sort of miffed. We set this double date ages ago, and I pulled in a favor to get house seats for the current production at Goodman.

“That’s too bad. Doesn’t he have a foreman to handle that sort of thing?”

Exactly my thinking when Connor called. “I think these projects are his babies, and when something this big happens, it would make him too antsy to not be there knowing it was getting fixed properly.” I hope.

The fact is, Connor has been running sort of hot and cold since New Year’s. He came to a small cocktail party Jill and I had at the office to celebrate our one hundred and fiftieth broadcast late enough that most of the guests had gone home. And then he didn’t call me for four days. But last weekend he surprised me with an indoor picnic dinner at his house, followed by one of those amazing nights where you fool around and talk and laugh and fool around again and suddenly the sun is up and neither of you are tired of talking or kissing. Then we slept in and went to the weekly Sunday brunch at his folks’ house, and I got to do some bonding with his mom in the kitchen, and apparently impressed his dad with my expansive knowledge of football. The day was perfect, kidding around with the brothers and playing with everyone’s kids, and meeting Jack’s new girlfriend, Christmas Eve Andrea having been replaced already. It felt so natural and connected, I started to think that if he brought up the idea of exclusivity that I might be up for giving it a shot, but then he dropped off the face of the earth for most of this week and now was skipping dinner in lieu of checking in on work. And what is worse, even though the petting is amazing, he never even asks to go further, and we haven’t talked about taking the next step, which is making me think that maybe he isn’t all that attracted to me after all. I know that if we take that step, it will mean letting go of Abbot, but just when I think I’m ready to give Abbot up for the promise of something more meaningful with Connor, Connor pulls a Houdini act.

“Is everything okay there?” Hunter asks, probably picking up on my false cheeriness.

“I think so. I hope so. Did you ever go out with someone who kept vacillating between really present and totally absent?”

“Yeah. Once. In college I went out with this girl who was completely amazing when we were together. Great conversation, liked all the same stuff, laughed a lot, great sex. But then she’d sort of check out for a few days after our dates. Once we spent a whole weekend together, and I thought it was a sign that we were really getting serious, but then she blew me off for almost two weeks afterward. Curt phone calls, too busy to see me, that sort of thing. But then she’d finally agree to see me, and it would be the best date ever.”

“So what happened?”

“Eventually I asked her for more time, more commitment, and she said she couldn’t do more than she was doing, so I broke up with her.”

“Did she say why she couldn’t do more?”

“No. But I think it was that she didn’t want to do more. To make more of an effort.”

Which is what I’ve been afraid of.

“Hey,” Hunter says, noticing my lack of response, “we were in college. A nineteen-year-old doesn’t exactly have a business to run or a family to be responsible to or any of the pressures of adult life. I’m sure that Connor isn’t doing that.”

“I wish I were sure.”

“You really like him, huh?”

“Yeah. I just, I don’t know, I feel very connected to him when we are together. He’s the first guy since my divorce that I even have remotely considered having potential.”

“Can I ask you something personal?” Hunter asks, chewing on a piece of bread.

“Hey, you’re almost family. Shoot.”

“Is there any chance that you feel like that about him because he is sort of wiggly?”

I laugh. Hunter has a very interesting way of expressing himself. “Wiggly?”

“Well, look, you have created your world around this idea of being footloose and fancy-free when it comes to dating, right?”

“Yeah . . .”

“I mean, you’ve probably dated seven different guys in various configurations just in the time I’ve known you. Right?”

I think back, and mentally check guys off, going backward chronologically to the office project. “Eight, actually.”

“Right. And never only one at a time except for some brief weeks between letting one go and acquiring his replacement.”

“Well, that sounds a lot more calculated and businesslike than I would like, but I suppose it’s reasonably accurate.”

Hunter pauses to sip the wine the waiter has poured, and nods his approval before continuing. “Is it possible that, even subconsciously, you are letting yourself feel more for this guy than all the others precisely because he is the least likely to be interested in a commitment?”

“You mean, am I sabotaging myself?”

“Well, let’s look at the current roster. Abbot is using patience and charm and a large floral budget to slowly woo you into submission. Ben wants you to have his children . . .”

“My sister has a big mouth.” I pretend to be offended.

“Your sister hasn’t told me anything you’ve asked her to keep secret.”

“True enough. Please continue.” I take a sip of the lovely Barolo that Hunter chose and wait for his diagnosis.

“Connor is, as you say, there when he is there, but sometimes isn’t so attentive. So, of the three guys you’re dating, you’re most interested in the one who is showing the least interest in more than what you have. Is it possible that you’re a little gun shy on the commitment thing and are purposely letting yourself fall for the guy who is least likely to step up? You know, for safety’s sake.”

Before I can answer, Jill swoops in, apologizing and railing at the traffic.

“Two flakes of snow, and everyone in a car loses all sense of reason!” she says, sliding in beside Hunter and kissing him. “Hello, you.” She turns to face me. “And hello you, too. How was the meeting?”

“Good. The licensing company is talking to Target next week about placing the new lunch kits, so fingers crossed, we might be able to roll them out in the next three months.”

“Excellent,” she says as the waiter brings over another wineglass and pours for her. “Where’s Connor?”

“Hopefully meeting us at the theater. Work problem.”

“That’s too bad. What’d you guys order me?” She takes a piece of bread from the basket and slathers it with butter.

“Grouper,” Hunter says.

“Perfect. What were you guys talking about?” she asks.

Hunter winks across the table at me. “We were talking about the wedding. I had some ideas I wanted Jodi to weigh in on.”

I appreciate his discretion on this, in part because I assume that Jill has already shared her opinions on the Holy Trinity with him and knows that I won’t be in the mood for the two of them to gang up on me tonight, and in part because I am sure he knows how strained things are with Jill and me at the moment and wants us to just have a lovely evening. For which I am very grateful. My current boy problems only bring into relief for me how special what Jill and Hunter have is, and how much I am truly afraid deep down that I will never have it. And as much as I love Jill, it is so difficult not to be resentful of that. Especially when she is telling me everything I’m doing wrong in my own love life.

“Oh, Hunter, you know this doesn’t have to be some ridiculous production,” Jill says in mock horror.

“Well, a boy is only a groom once, dear. Let him have the wedding he’s always dreamed of,” I say.

“Yeah!” says Hunter. We lean back and let the waiter deliver our salads.

“I give up. Just tell me what time to be there,” Jill says.

We raise our glasses, clink, and start eating.

 
“Thanks for the play,” Connor says, walking me to my car. “That was one of the best things I’ve ever seen.”

“You’re very welcome. Thanks for coming.” Connor managed to meet us at the theater two minutes before curtain.

“Sorry again about missing dinner.”

“No problem. I’m just glad that the damage wasn’t too bad.”

“Yeah. Once we got the mess mopped up, it was pretty easy to fix.” He leans over and kisses me softly. “So, you tired?”

Sigh. He’s such a good kisser. “Not exhausted. What did you have in mind?”

“Well, we have two options. I can follow you home so you can get your stuff and drop off your car, and we can go to my place, or I can just meet you at your place.”

“I love it when both of my options are good ones. What do you have in the larder?”

“Breakfast? Cereal.”

“Aunt Shirley dropped off some risotto cakes today. Bet they’d be good with some scrambled eggs and chorizo,” I say. I do love a hearty breakfast after a good night.

“You win. Leave the back door open for me, and I’ll meet you at your place.”

“Done.”

He leans over and kisses me again. “Drive safe, love.” He lets me get into my car, closes the door for me, and then waits off to the side as I pull away.

Love, indeed.
I pull out of the parking lot onto the street and head for the expressway. I can’t get Hunter’s accusation out of my head. I mean, yes, I certainly have found the type of relationship situation that I’m most comfortable with, and I haven’t been terribly challenged to change it. With my history with men, it is nice to be in the driver’s seat for once. And as much as I like Connor and feel happy with him and like I’m getting bonded with his family, I still enjoy the time I spend with the other guys, too. Frankly, getting Connor to the theater was one thing, but he’ll never be an opera/symphony/wine-tasting guy like Abbot, and I love the elegance of those events, and how supported and well taken care of I feel with him. And there is something so enjoyable about being with someone like Ben, who is creative and spontaneous and adventurous, and is always searching the
Reader
and
Time Out
for the most interesting things to take me to.

I merge onto the Kennedy and head west. I love the solid feel of driving this car. It’s almost as if it knows the way home and needs barely any guidance from me. If only my love life were as easy to navigate.

We’ve found that the key to the success of our partnership is our ability to be colleagues at work and sisters at home. We are both very careful to keep the two relationships separate, and if either one of us crosses a line, the other can gently remind her to get refocused. I mean, don’t get me wrong, it isn’t like you can’t tell we’re sisters when you watch us interact at the office, but we have found a good way of communicating in the professional arenas that helps ensure that when it is time for business, we just put on our business hats and get to work.

—Quote from an interview in
Chicago Social Magazine
, April 2005, Jodi Spingold

 
 
 
My cell phone goes off just as I’m leaving the gym to head back to the office. I’m bound and determined to get myself down into a size twelve in time for the wedding. If I lose one to two pounds a week, I should be able to do it. I hired a trainer to help me out, and frankly, I think I hate her more than I have ever hated anyone in life.