Page 17 of Sister of the Bride

Why don’t eggs tell jokes?

They’d crack each other up!

Come on, that one was good!

Pippin

I really thought that you being back would put an end to this

We’re an hour from closing, and thank god, because this has been an absolutely brutal Saturday. Turns out the new kid—whose name is Justin, which I will for sure remember now because I had to shout it so many times tonight—fucked up the prep and left us scrambling an hour before the bulk of our reservations showed up. And I don’t know if it was the heat or that the Sox lost earlier in the day, but people werespicytonight.

Which is why I’m standing out in the alley, trying to catch a moment of quiet, even if that means taking in a big gulp of hot dumpster air. Evie has joined me, and we lean against the warm brick of the back of the building, staring out into the darkness like GIs after an air raid.

“I got yelled at because I brought a woman a Cabernet Sauvignon that was red,” Evie says with a thousand yard stare directly at the wall of the building across from us. “She swore to me that Cabernet Sauvignon was supposed to bewhite. What do you even do with that?”

“Exactly what you did: bring her a glass of white wine and smile like she’s a culinary genius, thus saving your tip,” I reply.

“I just want to make sure you know that a little part of my soul died when I did that,” she says, closing her eyes and rubbing at her temples. Evie started working at Marino’s five years and about thirty tattoos ago. She moved to Boston to go to Berklee and become a songwriter but dropped out after her first semester. She’s been trying to figure out what she wants to be when she grows up ever since.

“No more than when I had to ask Fernando to please go easy on the garlic on a customer’sgarlic bread,” I reply. “Like, maybe just take your sensitive white-lady palate to the Olive Garden.”

We return to silence, both of us trying to battle headaches the size of Fenway. Only Toby’s approaching footsteps interrupt us.

“What, are we having a meditation moment?” Toby asks as he ambles up in light blue scrub pants and an unzipped hoodie, a Dunkin’ Donuts T-shirt visible underneath. It’s been almost two weeks since Toby returned and Polly got engaged. He’s started his residency now, and it’s still weird to see him in scrubs that aren’t a Halloween costume.

“You’re awfully chipper for someone who worked a seven-to-seven shift and just got off”—I glance at my watch—“a whole two hours late.”

He shrugs. “I promised this kid I’d go to CT with him, but they were backed up, so I had to hang around,” he says. “But otherwise it was a good night. The kid’s CT was clear, I did, like, forty million stitches, nobody was seriously injured or ill, and nobody yarfed on me. Best kind of shift you can ask for on a peds ER rotation.”

“Don’t you need to go home and fall face-first into bed?” I ask. “Or have you come here to torture me with more ‘jokes’?”

“I hear the air quotes, and I will not respond to them,” he says, grinning. “Nonna said she left me a box of cannoli in the walk-in. I’m going to eat four of them,thenfall face-first into my bed.”

“What did you do to earn cannoli?” I ask.

“I looked at her ingrown toenail and assured her it wasn’t infected,” he says, his grin expanding like a kid who just aced his AP exam.

I grimace. “Ew. Enjoy, because youdefinitelyearned that.” I nod toward the door. “You go on in and grab them. I’m not going back in until I have to.”

“Rough night, eh?”

“You have no idea,” I groan.

“Good to see you, Evie,” Toby says, tipping an imaginary hat as he ducks in the door.

I lean my head back against the wall, close my eyes, and try not to think about my grandmother’s ingrown toenail.

“Hey, so what’s Toby’s deal?” Evie asks.

I crack one eye open and squint over at her. “What do you mean?”

“Is he single? BecauseI’msingle, and he’s cute.”

I open my mouth to say yes, he’s available, but before I can do that, I hear myself saying, “He just got out of a long-term relationship, and I think it was pretty rough? I don’t think he’s dating right now.” Which…is not even remotely true. I mean, hedidjust break up with Jen. But he doesn’t seem too messed up about it. He still hasn’t talked to me about it at all, actually.

I only met her a few times when she accompanied him back home for holidays. She seemed nice, but I’ll be honest, I was always surprised it lasted as long as it did. She was just…quiet. She always acted like she needed permission to be anywhere or do anything or join a conversation. Since he hasn’t said a word about the breakup, I’ve kind of been assuming that Toby finally noticed Jen has the personality of a nervous kindergarten teacher and dispatched with her. Honestly, why everyone doesn’t listen to my romantic advice from the get-go is beyond me. I haveverygood instincts.

But yeah, Toby would probably be fine with going on a date right now, but for some reason I feel weird about offering him up to Evie. I mean, we work together. I’m actually kind of her boss. That would be weird, right? If she dated my best friend? Surely there’s some kind of blurred line there, something employment ethics-y that we should steer clear of.

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