Eileen Slovak

Chapter Fifty-six: Family Gatherings are Better with Wine

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, and locales are products of the author’s imagination. They are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is coincidental. Copyright © 2024 by Eileen Slovak.

Scarlet     

When I was young, my dad’s long deployments extended into the summer months. Mom hosted garden parties to pass the time. Dad liked to refer to her friends as ‘the band of cackling hens’. He was always pleased she held these events primarily in his absence. She spent weeks preparing for the galas. She set up tables, rearranged her wicker, scrubbed teapots, planned menus and arranged flowers. The tables closest to the perennial gardens were so coveted, it became necessary to assign seating, to avoid quarrels among her friends.

      Catherine was encouraged to help. First with the preparations, then later, dressed in her Sunday best, with serving the refreshments. Mom asked me to fetch things as needed from the garage or the basement during preparation. When it came time for the party, she discouraged me from assisting. I was sent out to play with the neighborhood boys. When I protested, “why does Catherine get to stay?” Mary said, “Scarlet, sweetheart, you’d only be bored.”

      One such day, I lay on the porch swing listening to the banter of the women. I was wishing for Dad’s early return from sea. Staring up at the porch ceiling fan, I watched as the wind pushed it slowly around. I willed the breeze to gust enough to bring Dad’s ship back into shore. Knowing it would never affect a Navy Ship which moved on its own steam. I rocked slowly, peering out at the summer sky. With my outstretched hand blocking the sunlight from my eyes, I noticed my own grimy fingernails. They looked foreign to me as if they belonged on a different hand. I looked down to my cut off shorts, skinned knees, and worn, mud-stained sneakers. Mom was right. I would have been bored. Still it stung to be excluded.

      I knew the Ryan boys would be at the dock. They’d be there with buckets, edging along the rocks in search of crabs or catching bait fish with their nets. I liked spending time with them, especially Luke, the oldest. I knew he had a small crush on me. I closed my eyes picturing Luke’s smile, his sun-streaked blond hair, his golden tanned skin. I imagined him shirtless wading through the water. Brian would be close behind with bucket in hand, while Luke jabbed the net into the water with precision. When the bait bucket was satisfactorily full, the boys would fish from the pier until dusk. I always preferred the hunt for bait to the fishing itself. The wait between bites was excruciatingly long. Like the week before, while we sat waiting for the fish to nibble, when Luke spontaneously kissed me.

      In my surprise, I left my eyes wide open. I was close enough to see all the freckles on his nose. His lips were soft, tasting like the ocean mixed with bubble gum. Afterwards, seeing the shocked expression on my face, he didn’t try to kiss me again. We didn’t speak of it. Whenever he saw me after that, I noticed Luke blushed avoiding making eye contact. I thought about this as I rocked on the porch swing. Then I got up and walked down to the dock, feeling all warm inside. It was a great day for fishing.

      That September, the Ryan’s moved to Florida. Before he left, Luke gave me a gift in a tiny box. Inside, on a piece of cotton batting, lay his favorite fishing lure. It was a small silver fish, bent at the mid-section with scales etched in it. I carefully removed the hook to put the lure on a chain. I wore it around my neck for a solid year, refusing to remove it even while bathing. Catherine fiercely objected to my choice in jewelry. She told Mom it was disgusting to wear something around your neck that a fish had in his mouth. Mom said Catherine should mind her own business. I smiled, thinking about fishing and kissing, knowing that Catherine didn’t know the first thing about either one.

      The family is meeting at Dad’s house to celebrate his 70^th Birthday. It’s warmer than normal for the end of February. Except for occasional cool breezes, it could just as easily be a day in March. The sudden temperature change causes rushes of water on the side streets as the snow disintegrates.

      Gary who has a rare night off, offers to drive the clan down, stopping for me on the way. I’ve been up all-night crying. My face is puffy. I want to skip the whole thing, but I know no excuse is going to be good enough. Catherine comes up to the apartment to get me while Gary waits in van with the kids.

      “I missed you at Mass this morning.”

      “I went to Saint Anthony’s last night. I may start going there instead.”

      “Oh, why? What’s going on with you? You look awful.”

      “Believe me, I feel worse than I look.”

      “I hope it’s not contagious, we just got over the stomach flu, I can’t take anymore.”

      “Vomiting would be less awful.”

      “Oh, no. Something happened with Scott.”

      I look at my sister, unable to speak. All I can do is nod.

      “Oh, boy. Are you okay?”

      “No. Not even a little.”

      “Come on, we’ll talk outside at Dad’s.”

      Catherine puts her arm around my shoulder, grabs a box of tissues, leading me out of the apartment.

      Gary’s parenting style is the total opposite of Catherine’s. He’s more of a shouter, while Catherine is calm, soft-spoken. I’m always in awe of her patience when it comes to parenting. When everyone’s together it’s pure pandemonium. I sit in the back of the van with the kids. At least amid the chaos, I can trick my brain into not thinking about Scott.

      “Auntie, can you read? Pleeezzzz?” Charlotte pushes a book right up against my face.

      “Aunt Scarlet, know, what? Know what, Aunt Scarlet?” Christopher says repeatedly until I acknowledge him.

      “No, what?” I ask.

      “I have thirty names on my cast. Thirty! That’s a lot of names!” He holds his cast out to me. “Want to know their names?”

      Michael’s singing over everyone from the back seat of the minivan.

      “Ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall! Ninety-nine bottles of beer!”

      In the front seat, Gary and Catherine are arguing about a kitchen repair project. Gary’s insisting that he and his friend can fix it. Catherine wants to hire a professional to do the job because it’s been weeks.

      “Who was the stellar influence who taught the boy ninety-nine bottles of beer on the wall?” I shout over the ruckus, prompting Gary into hysterical laughter. He relays the tale of poker night at the house. Some of the boys got a little rowdy. Michael was observing the scene from the upstairs hallway.

      “You’re lucky if that’s the worst thing he learned.” Catherine seems to be stewing about the whole thing.

      By the time we arrive at Dad’s house, my ears are ringing from the noise level in the van. I fleetingly miss the quiet solitude of my apartment. The children sprint from the van to the house with Gary trailing after them. Catherine’s carrying a plastic cake carrier. I have two bottles of wine in a bag. I remove a sack of groceries Catherine had stowed in the trunk with my other hand.

The house seems small with everyone inside. Dad and Mike are on the couch. Shannon, Mike’s new girlfriend is perched on the couch arm, staring out the large bay window.

      “Dad, Mike, good to see you. You must be Shannon,” I say, “I’m Scarlet. It’s nice to meet you.”

      “Hi,” she says with a half-smile.

      “Shannon, it’s good to see you again,” Catherine smiles, kissing both Dad and Mike on the cheek. Mike and Shannon had dinner at Catherine and Gary’s a few weeks earlier. To her annoyance, Catherine said Gary made an idiot of himself like he’d never seen a pretty girl before. Shannon wears painted on jeans with so many holes in them, I’m not sure how they stay intact. Her crop top reveals generous cleavage. I’m wondering if anyone mentioned it was a birthday party for a seventy-year-old man, a family affair.  

      Drinks are distributed. Everyone plays catch up, before Catherine heads to the kitchen to start dinner. Gary takes the boys outside with a football. Mike and Dad swap stories about fishing, leaving me to make small talk with Shannon. Charlotte is toddling around the room opening cabinets, exploring their contents. I jump up to take away a box of tools she’s found before she starts using them on Grandpa’s walls.

      “Can I get you something Shannon? Another beer or anything?”

      “No, I’m good. You know you’re so lucky you have such a nice sister. My sister is a total tramp. I don’t even talk to her anymore after I caught her with my boyfriend.”

      My shocked expression prompts Shannon to add, “Not, Mike! He’s a great guy. He would never do that.”

      “Well, that must have been hard for you. I’m going to see what all needs to be done about dinner. I’ll be back.”

      “I’d help, but I don’t know how to cook anything except mac and cheese,” she says.

      “Oh, that’s fine. We can handle it.”

      I scoop up Charlotte and go through the swinging door of the kitchen. Depositing her at the small kitchen table, she plays with crayons and coloring book laid out there.

      “I could kill you! How could you leave me out there?” I say, “You’re the one who’s BFFs with her now, having dinner parties together.”

      “What was your excuse for escaping?”

      “I said you needed help, but my backup was Charlotte needed her diaper changed.”

      “She’s potty trained.”

      “Yeah, but she doesn’t know that. I’m staying here where it’s safe. Do you think she’ll pull out the Hustler magazines later as a special treat to show the guys?”

      “Behave! She better not! Anyway, I think it was Playboy.” Catherine peeks into the living room to see where Shannon’s gone. She’s outside next to Mike.

      “If Mike marries her, I’m moving.”

      “To where?”

      “I don’t know, away. Anywhere but here. Maybe New York. We have an office there.”

      “I’m sure it’s a fling. You know Mike with his women.”

      We worked at cleaning potatoes and husking corn, next to two large pots simmering on the stove top.

      “He has had a few. Why are we eating lobster instead of corned beef? That’s always been our tradition for Dad’s birthday.”

      “Because they’re free thanks to Mikey. Dad said he didn’t care.”

      I peek inside the plastic carrier. “Yum! No cake?”

      “He said he wanted pie for some reason.”

      Catherine’s poking at the corn bobbing up in the pot.

      Then I remember the warning, beware of pie. Silly warning! I’m so eating pie later; apple with a crumb topping, still a little warm. The scent of apples mixed cinnamon fills the kitchen. Huh, pie…PI…private investigator. Duh! I should have listened.

      “What are you muttering under your breath? You’re acting strange. What’s going on with you? What happened with Scott?”

      “He’s a pig, a liar and I hope he dies of some heinous disease.”

      Before I can continue, the doorbell rings. Catherine looks perplexed.

      “Who’s missing? We’re all here?”

      “Aunt Grace? I hope I’m wrong.”

      “No, she’s not coming, thank goodness. She’s in Florida.”

      “You’re bad.”

      “No worse than you.”

      Dad comes into the kitchen a moment later. He’s with a woman who’s carrying a bottle of wine and a chocolate cake on a crystal plate.

      “Scarlet, Catherine, I’d like you to meet a friend of mine, Carlene Walton.”

      “Nice to meet you,” I say. “Here, let me take that for you.” I place the cake and the wine on the counter next to the pie.

      “Hello,” Catherine says.

      “It’s my pleasure to meet you both,” Carlene says.

      The four of us stand looking at one another. After an awkward pause, Catherine asks, “How do you two know each other?”

      “Carlene’s my neighbor,” Dad says. “Her dog Molly introduced us.”

      “This little angel must be Charlotte,” Carlene says stooping down to talk to her. “Hi sweetheart.”

      “Mommy says don’t talk to strangers,” Charlotte says.

      “Charlotte! Carlene isn’t a stranger, she’s grandpa’s friend.”

      “Do you want to color?” Charlotte asks Carlene.

      “Yes, I’d love to color.” Carlene sits down next to Charlotte. Charlotte hands Carlene a page from the coloring book and a handful of crayons.

      “Carlene teaches over at the elementary school,” Dad says.

      “What grade do you teach?” Catherine asks.

      “Sixth. I really enjoy it. Bob has told me so much about your three little ones, Catherine. He’s such a proud grandpa,” she says looking at Dad.

      “I’m done now,” Charlotte says.

      “Are you going to help Mommy?” Carlene asks.

      Charlotte thinks about this for a second, then says, “No! I go play with grandpa’s tools now!” She darts into the living room with Dad trailing behind her.

      “I’ll introduce her to Molly. I have a feeling they’ll get along,” he says.

      “Girl after my own heart,” I say.

      Catherine is uncharacteristically at a loss for words. “She has two older brothers,” is all she can manage.

      “This cake looks terrific Carlene!” I add. “I can’t wait for dessert!”

      “It’s Bob’s favorite, double chocolate. Is there anything I can help you girls with?” She asks.

      “Oh, no, we’re about to terrorize some lobsters over here,” I say. “Carlene, would you like a glass of wine?”

      “Yes, thank you, I’d love some.”

      “I think I’ll join you.” I pour two healthy glasses. “Catherine?”

      “Sure, why not!”

      “Well, it was nice to finally meet you girls. Bob talks of nothing else. Thank you for including me in his birthday celebration. I should go and see if Molly’s gotten herself into any mischief.” She excuses herself, going through the living room, then outside. We see everyone out on the lawn playing with Molly. She’s very docile, seeming to tolerate the affection.

      “Well, she seems very pleasant,” I say, slugging the wine. “Even Dad’s in love.”

      “His favorite? How does she know what Dad’s favorite anything is?” Catherine’s aghast.

      “Catherine, did you think he was going to stay alone forever? You know he dates. He’s still youngish. He’s a good-looking guy. You should see him in the supermarket. Every widow in town is after him. She seems nice, normal at least.”

      “I can’t believe he invited her without telling us!”

      “Maybe he thought it would be easier this way, meeting everyone at once,” I say.

      “Well, it’s a good thing Aunt Grace isn’t here.”

      “Possibly intentional. Since when are you worried about her feelings? A minute ago, you were saying you were glad she wasn’t coming.

      “Oh, Scarlet!” Catherine flings the lobsters two at a time into the giant pot.

      “What if we don’t have enough food?”

      “FHB, family hold back! There’s plenty anyway. Would you chill out? Besides, Shannon looks like a picker to me. I’ll take bets she won’t eat a thing. I wonder if Mike has to put rocks in her pockets so she won’t blow away on windy days.”

      “The ones in her head should be enough.”

      “Wow! That was uncharacteristically harsh! That sounds like something I would say.”

      “I know she can’t help it. She was born that way, right?”

      “Speaking of skinny girls…let me look at you…um-huh, you’ve lost weight.”

      “Five pounds,” Catherine says, beaming, then spinning. “The gym has finally curbed my hand to mouth disease.

      “I’m happy for you.”

      “So, tell me what happened?” Catherine asks topping off our wine.

      “He’s a sneaky snake,” I say, munching on cheese and crackers from a plate on the counter.

      “Any chance you’ll make up?”

      “Not a one.” I say, drinking my wine.

      “Slow down! I’m not carrying you if you overdo it.”

      “Oh, I plan to get stinking drunk! Gary can carry me. Everyone’s in love but me,” I say looking at the cake. “At least I still have chocolate.”

      “Scar, your day will come. Did he really do something that bad? Was it another woman?” Catherine asks lifting the first two steaming red lobsters out of the pot. She’s using a a pair of tongs, placing the cooked crustaceans into a strainer in the sink.

      “Worse. I like that, Carlene; she brought wine and cake, two of my favorite things. I say she’s a keeper.”

      “I’ll consider it a personal insult if you choose her cake over my pie.”

      “Fine, I’ll have to have both then. What the hell! My love life is in the toilet again. Food’s as good a substitute as any.”

      “You should sit next to her, see what you can find out.” Catherine drops more lobsters into the boiling water. “Sorry guys.” She pokes some hot dogs with a fork before dropping them into another pot with the corn and potatoes.

      “Okay by me. I’d like to get to know her better. Especially if Dad thinks she’s important enough to invite to his Birthday party. You can sit next to Shannon the stripper.”

      “This is no joke, Scarlet. This is serious. I’m too old to have a stepmother.”

      “Did they make an announcement that I missed? It’s a casual family dinner, relax. You already have them walking down the aisle.”

      “A family dinner?”

      “Here, get drunk with me. You’ll forget all about it!” I fill Catherine’s glass up to the rim.

      “I need to talk with Dad about it later.”

      “What are you going to do? Forbid him from dating? Ground him?”

      “Everything’s always fine with you. He needs to be careful. I’m the one who always does all of the worrying.”

      “That’s all on you. No one asks for that Catherine. I’m happy for Dad. He needs someone other than us. Maybe I get it because I know what it feels like to be alone.”

      “That’s on you Scarlet. You’ve had plenty of chances not to be alone. You know what? I’d love a minute to myself, that sounds like nirvana.”

      “That’s because you know it’s only temporary.”

      “Ugh! We need to get the food on the table.” She drinks some more of her wine. “She has good taste in wine. I’ll give her that.”

      The dinner is going much better than I expected. Dad made a few comments about not serving wine at the next gathering. This elicits giggles from me and Catherine. He’s past the point of lecturing us. We decide that we like Carlene. Everyone loves Molly, especially the kids. Dad seems happy, maybe even taking better care of his diet. He says he’s walking every day now with Carlene and Molly.

      Carlene loves talking about her students.  She’s passionate about helping them not only with their schooling, but also counsels them on other aspects of their lives.

      “Some come from single parent homes. While their moms work, they’re home alone unsupervised, getting themselves into trouble,” she says. “I have a few boys who are interested in learning the basics of fishing. I looked into community programs but am finding that none exist. Bob has agreed to help me start an after-school fishing program.”

“I have time to spare,” he says, “it seems to me, fishing should be a boy’s God given right.”