Why I Love Singlehood: (39 page)

“We have anisette snowflakes dusted in powdered sugar, spicy sugar cookie Christmas trees, gingerbread people—all single, of course…” They all laughed. I continued, “Date nut truffles, candy canes, and my new favorite: chocolate peppermint sticks for stirring cocoa. And speaking of, we have both hot white and traditional cocoa, along with Jay’s ‘you’ll-fail-a-breathalyzer-test’ eggnog, wine, and soda. The Secret Santa gifts are all under the tree in the reading room, and the dreidels are next to the menorah.”

In no time the party moved to the reading room. It came as no surprise to me that Beulah knew what the symbols on the dreidels stood for, and taught everyone. She got a rousing game going using the cookies as loot. You’d think we were shooting craps at a casino, the group was so raucous. I stood at the entrance and watched the action, loving every minute of it. Simeon and Susanna won the biggest pot, and Jeannie with the Jimmy Choos promptly bit every head off her gingerbread specimens before adding them to the game.

When the game was forfeited and the loot redistributed, Norman announced that it was time to open Secret Santa gifts, assigning Neil to the all-important task of Chief Elf Distributor. As the Originals and Regulars opened their gifts (although, truth be told, there wasn’t much secrecy since almost everyone blabbed to someone or other about who drew whose name), Kenny appeared beside me to ladle another serving of eggnog and filled my cup as well.

“Wow. You were totally right about this eggnog. I may have to spend the night on that couch over there.”

“I’m glad you’re here, Kenny.”

“Me too.”

“I didn’t think you’d show up after what happened the other day.”

“Yeah, I wanted to talk to you about that.”

“We will,” I promised. Then I looked at my watch. “But would you excuse me for a minute?” I left his side and went back to the reading room to find Norman. “Hey,” I said, after taking in a deep breath and tapping him on the shoulder. “You have another present under the tree. Delivered by Santa himself, I heard.”

I tried not to become unsettled by the sudden silence in the room.

“I do?” he said more with surprise than excitement.

“Yeah. Go get it.”

Norman went to the tree, the Originals and Regulars watching him in anticipation, although they didn’t know what awaited him any more than Norman did. He pulled out a shirt box wrapped in classic
Rudolf the Red-Nosed Reindeer
paper. “Is this it?” he asked. I nodded, my antlers bobbing.

He shook the box cautiously. “Are you sure there’s anything in it? It feels empty.”

“Wait! You have to open the other one first.”

“There’s another one?”

I raced to the tree, got down on all fours, and reached around with my hands until I found the little box tucked under the skirt. Crawling backwards, I pulled myself to my feet and handed the gift to him. He tore the paper right across Hermie the Elf’s face, opened the box, and burst out laughing upon sight of the artifact.

“What is it?” asked Tracy.

“It’s a pinup girl floaty pen,” said Norman as he took it out and started tipping it in different directions so that her bathing suit floated right off her body, his eyes widening. “Ohhh. Hello, gorgeous. I stand corrected. It’s a
Bettie Page
floaty pen.”

“What’s a floaty pen?” asked Spencer.

“This.” He held it up to show everyone, the guys in particular. “This is going to give me hours of pleasure, and I don’t just mean writing.”

“Well, you can start on the other present,” I said.

“Other present? Oh, right. The empty one. I got distracted by the…” He waved the floaty pen before passing it off to Spencer, who tilted it to the side and let out his own
Hel-lo…
“Don’t get too attached—I want her back,” said Norman as he unwrapped the second gift, this time gouging out the eyes of one of the Misfit Toys and ripping the rest of the paper in one forceful pull. He slid his fingers under the bottom sleeve of the box, sliced the Scotch tape, and lifted the top off. He then lifted the tissue and went silent when its contents registered recognition.

Norman drew in a breath.

No one moved for several heartbeats.

“What is it?” asked Dara, almost in a whisper.

Norman drew in a second breath and opened his mouth in an effort to answer, but came up blank.

He looked directly at me, still silent. I could hardly catch my own breath.

“Whaddya say, Norman? Wanna get hitched?”

“Hitched?”
said Beulah.

I could feel Kenny’s eyes on me, smiling in approval.

“It’s…” Norman’s voice broke. “It’s the paperwork for me to officially become a full partner of The Grounds.”

I think Minerva and Susanna were the first to squeal with delight, followed by Tracy and Dara, while the guys wooted and patted Norman on the back. He made his way through the congratulatory hugs and handshakes to get to me, where he planted a big kiss on my lips and squeezed me tight. “Thank you, Eva,” he whispered in my ear; I could feel the wetness of his cheek on my lobe. “You have no idea how happy this makes me.”

“Better than the floaty pen?”

He let go of me. “It’s a close second to the floaty pen.”

“I don’t know why I didn’t do it sooner. You were already my partner.”

“I’m gonna do right by this place. I promise.”

“
I know.
Well, what are you waiting for? Go get Bettie and sign the papers!”

After taking one final peek, Jay handed Norman the pen, and with a shaky hand Norman signed his name and initials in all the designated places while everyone erupted into applause. He then hugged me again, and we posed for pictures: a woman in reindeer antlers, a guy in a red nose and silly Santa tie, and a contract. Partners.

The party continued until well after the last of the goodies were gone, and everyone helped clean up a little, though I instated a no-tipsies-carrying-glass policy after Spencer nearly dropped an entire stack of plates. As the last of the Originals left (I made sure everyone was OK to drive), I locked the doors and Norman and I walked to our cars, Jeannie on the other side of him, their arms interlocked, a comfortable smile playing on his face.

I halted. “Norman! Where is your nose?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You dress me up as a reindeer—” he started.

“As Rudolph, the Elvis of all reindeer,” I corrected.

“—with a foam nose that smells like paint, and then you actually expect me to wear it in public? Wasn’t the Santa tie bad enough?”

“Suit yourself. I’m not your boss anymore.”

I watched his face as the thought registered. Without warning he let go of Jeannie and grabbed me in a final bear hug, pinning me against his shoulder before ducking into her car with one last floaty pen salute.

As they pulled away, I spun around and slammed straight into Kenny.

“Oomph!” I said as he grabbed my shoulder, steadying me. “Sorry, I didn’t see you there.” I pushed my hair away from my face and tucked it behind my ears.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.”

We stood in silence for a second.

“So, about the other day…” I started.

“Forget it,” he said.

“I don’t want to just blow it off.”

“No hard feelings.” He seemed impatient.

“Look, Kenny, I just want to tell you that I—”

He put two fingers to my lips and shushed me. Then, drawing his other hand from his coat pocket, he opened his fist to reveal the sprig of mistletoe that had been hanging in the café.

I shifted my glance from it to him. “Those things only work if you’re standing under them, not if—”

He leaned in, pulled me to him, and kissed me.

“Merry Christmas, Eva,” he whispered into my ear, and he backed away slowly to his own car, leaving me standing there, dumbfounded.

38

Resolute

FOR THE FIRST
time ever, I chose not to spend Christmas or New Year’s with Olivia. Perhaps it was because she had already made the trip to North Carolina for Thanksgiving, and that alone was quite a production for a family of four. Perhaps it was because nothing could top the Grounds for Merriment party—seeing Norman’s face as he found the partnership papers, Kenny’s kiss, my friends playing with dreidels and opening their presents.

The truth was that wanted to be alone. I
chose
it. I wanted to celebrate myself.

On Christmas Day I attended mass with Beulah and Lily, who had kind blue eyes and a warm handshake despite the chilly day, and afterwards they came to my house for lunch. We made deviled eggs and hoagies and set up a carpet picnic in my living room, watching
A Christmas Carol
(the George C. Scott version, although we liked the Alistair Campbell version better) and shared stories of Christmases past well into the evening.

After they left, I sat on the couch, in the dark, admiring my tree—my first since I’d lived with Shaun. It had always been my parents’ tradition to decorate the tree in stages: lights one day, ornaments the next, and tinsel or garland on Christmas Eve, topped with a star. Olivia and I had kept up the tradition, finishing the decorating when I arrived, except we’d replaced the star with twin angels. I decorated my tree in stages as well, with baubles that Shaun and I had collected, ornaments hand-made from baker’s clay and cookie cutter shapes, and a new set of collectibles from the Claymation shows of our childhood that I’d found on eBay. Beulah and Lily’s gift for me was a new angel.

New Year’s Eve was an equally quiet, solitary affair. I made myself haddock topped with equal parts crabmeat and butter, roasted some broccoli, and sliced focaccia bread to dip in olive oil. Lately I’d been cooking full-course meals just for myself and eating at the table rather than the couch, where I so often scarfed down my dinners while watching TV. I set the table for one with my best plates and linens, and dined by candlelight.

It had been so long since I’d eaten mindfully, savoring each bite, closing my eyes as I chewed and reveling in the flavors as they mixed in my mouth. I dined with silence as a companion, actually
listening
to it, without a book or screen to distract me. Even my thoughts spoke softly.

I decided to save the slice of flourless chocolate cake for later, perhaps when the ball dropped, or just after the stroke of midnight.

After dinner, I spent the evening sorting through the ever-growing stash of recipes that I’d found or created throughout the year, making piles of “finally make this,” “make this again,” “make this every day,” and “burn without regret.” From there I further classified them into meats, poultry, fish, sides, entrees, breakfast, et cetera, and put them all into the recipe box that had belonged to my mother. Only slightly bigger than a five-by-seven index card file box, it was now yellowish-white, adorned with flaked and faded pink and blue flowers that Olivia and I had painted when we were children, presenting it to her for Mother’s Day.

By around ten thirty, my recipes were fully sorted and stored, and I had a new stack to try during the upcoming week, including two more sit-down dinners. I zapped on the TV, and as
The Honeymooners
marathon on TV Land was in full swing, I contemplated making a resolution but flicked my wrist in a tossing motion and said “Nahhh” out loud, chuckling. I’d always opposed New Year’s resolutions on the principle that so many people seemed content to only commit to self-improvement and new beginnings once a year. What about the rest of the year? Why not quit smoking in July, or de-clutter the basement in November and keep it that way all the time? By seventeen, I’d decided to boycott New Year’s resolutions altogether. But at thirty-four, my boycott seemed more like a thinly veiled excuse for not holding myself accountable for much of anything, and letting status quo form and pass without protest.

Maybe it was time.

This year,
I began as the TV blathered on,
I resolve to devote less time to screens and more time to trees.
I was a bit rusty at this whole resolution thing, and continued out loud. “I will eat sitting down.” Better. “I will be spontaneous. And I will do my best to be OK with it.”

It was a start. A good one at that.

At 11:58, I switched the channel to see the ball in Times Square drop, and was in bed by 12:16. I think I fell asleep smiling, and never did eat my cake.

39

Forget-me-nots

ON THE SATURDAY
before his birthday, I kidnapped Kenny under the guise of taking him out for a matinee and met up with Spencer and Tracy, Norman and Jeannie, Scott, Minerva and Jay, and Beulah for laser tag. I can’t remember the last time I laughed so much or was so full of adrenaline as we blasted away at each other. Norman and I in particular had a good time saying, “I am your father, Luke,” every time we found ourselves at a standoff. All the while, eighties music echoed throughout the caverns, and Kenny, appropriately, was the last man standing, pumping his fists in the air to “Eye of the Tiger.”