Page 5 of The New Year's Party
“Phelps just texted me a picture of all the ingredients for tonight’s dinner,” said Bennett. “He seriously went all out. Want to see?” He reached toward his back pocket for his phone.
“Mmmm,” said Olivia. “Not right now, I’m kind of in the middle of... Hey, can you see if we have fresh ginger?” She was prepping dinner early to save her parents the trouble when they arrived to watch the kids around four o’clock.
“Sure.” Bennett rummaged in the crisper of the stainless steel fridge, lifting out bell peppers, onions, and one mushy cucumber that had been rolling around the bottom. Aha! Victory. “Moldy,” he announced, holding up the tan-and-blue stub.
“I’ll cut that part off.” Olivia whisked it to the cutting board. “What do you think? Rice, or should we do those noodles Norah likes?”
“Noodles.” When the kids ate rice, it ended up all over the floor, and it was impossible to clean up. Even though it would technically be Olivia’s parents’ problem, you had to stay in the good graces of your only local option for free babysitting.
“Could you pull those out?” she said. “I think they’re behind the marinara jars.”
He got the noodles while she enacted a furious mince on the de-molded ginger.
When the paper invitation from Phelps arrived at the beginning of the month, Bennett hadn’t discounted that Olivia might out-and-out refuse to go. The last party, five years ago, had been a shitstorm in more ways than one. The year that followed ended up being Bennett’s personal Year from Hell, though Olivia—hopefully—had no idea. And even though hecould imagine why Olivia might have cold feet, he hoped she’d be willing, like Bennett was, to leave the past in the past and move forward. Wasn’t that the whole point of celebrating the New Year? Fresh start, new leaf, et cetera, et cetera?
After some hemming and hawing, she’d finally agreed with Bennett that they couldn’t say no, and Bennett RSVP’d. But they’d barely talked about the party since.
Bennett slid the noodles onto the counter next to her other ingredients and pressed on.
“So aren’t you even alittlebit excited? About tonight?”
“Um...” Olivia’s hair obscured her face from Bennett’s view. “I guess.”
With a sweep of her chef’s knife, she sent the ginger flying into the bowl where she was working on the Thai-inspired marinade for the chicken. It was one of the few meals all three kids liked. Well... tolerated. The only meal theyactuallyliked was Kraft Mac & Cheese, which Olivia was categorically opposed to serving more than once a month. She was raised on what she called “real food,” wholesomely cooked, unlike Bennett, who was raised on boxes and cans, resentfully cooked.
“Yeah... well,I’mexcited,” he said. “It’s been so long since we were all together. When’s the last time we even talked to Will? I just want us to have a good time, you know? Kick back. Relax. Catch up. I know Phelps is planning a game too, but he won’t tell me what. He gave me one hint. Violent Santa. I wonder what that could mean...”
“Huhmm,” said Olivia.
Bennett scratched the back of his neck, as if he could remove the little scab of irritation that was forming. Sure, Olivia would never be Miss Party Person, he knew that, he accepted that, and they both had their own demons to deal with, but Bennett was a jump-in-with-both-feet kind of guy, and he wouldn’t mind a little more buy-in from his wife. A little joint anticipation. Was that too much to ask for?
“Would it kill you to... I don’t know... be a little more positive?” he finally said.
Olivia spun with breathtaking speed, knife in hand. “I’ve been up since five in the morning, Bennett.” A tremble of emotion laced her voice. “I prepped for a meeting, had an hour-long Zoom call with the East Coast, did the girls’ hair, and I’ve nearly finished getting dinner ready, all before nine a.m. I’m sorry if I’m not expressing appropriate levels of enthusiasm.”
Bennett felt himself soften. It was that tremble of feeling in her voice. That vulnerable shake that reminded him that under all his wife’s cool guardedness and poise, she still had feelings.
“You’re right,” he said. Of course she was tense. She wasn’t on winter break like he was, and he hadn’t even offered to help with dinner. “I’m the jerk. Hey, once you’re done with the chicken, why don’t you go upstairs? I’ll clean up down here and manage the kids. You can just... you know... de-stress, take a shower, pack for tonight... whatever you need to do.”
He curled his stockinged feet against the cold tile floor as he awaited his wife’s response. Their small Chicago house was cold, but their gas bills had been high, so they’d agreed to keep it at sixty-five. God, sometimes he missed the pre-kids days of the tiny apartment in Rogers Park, by Chicago’s magnificent lakeshore, with its excessive radiator heat. They used to walk around in shorts and tanks, even in the dead of winter. Once, Olivia waltzed around in a bikini. He remembered tugging the wet string of it loose in the shower, and how the fabric peeled away slowly before falling with a soggy slop on the floor—
“Dada,” barked Alex, their two-year-old. Curly-headed little punk, always appearing from out of nowhere. They could smell conflict, the kids. As soon as he and Olivia had any tiny disagreement, one or another of them was sure to show up. Oh, well. As Olivia turned back to the cutting board, Bennett swung Alex up into his arms, relishing the weight of him andthat ineffable baby smell Alex still carried in the crook of his neck. The other two kids were watchingFrozenin the living room, a rare concession from Olivia, who had strong feelings about screen time. He could hear the faint strains of a musical number. Ah. “Fixer Upper.” He vaguely sang along under his breath. Yup, you could say he knew a thing or two about love being a force that was both powerful and strange...
“Dada pickee-dup me!” said Alex, jiggling against Bennett’s arm. Was he sounding a little congested?
“I did pick you up, bud. Good job using your words,” Bennett said, gathering him close. A tiny rivulet of snot was running down Alex’s face. Bennett whipped a tissue from the box by the fruit bowl and wiped it off as he addressed his wife. “Hey, did Alex get his flu shot last week?”
“No, the doctor’s office canceled his appointment. It’s rescheduled for next Wednesday.”
Flu shots—scheduling—that reminded him.
“Hey, any chance they could do that genetic testing at the same time?”
“That’s a completely different thing, Bennett,” said Olivia with as much exasperation as if he’d suggested they swing by a horse stable to pick up some hamburgers. “I told you, we have to find a specialist, and then get a referral sent over from his PCP, and—” She huffed. “It’s not that simple.”
Olivia and Bennett had agreed to run testing on all the kids because of Olivia’s sister, Emily, who died when Olivia was just a kid. Leukemia. Olivia had been great about getting Norah, their oldest, tested right away. But they needed to test the other two. Still, there was a time and a place, and New Year’s Eve was not it. Ugh... why had he reminded Olivia about the testing when he wanted to start building some positive energy, some good vibes?
Alex placed one sticky hand on each of Bennett’s cheeks, commanding his full attention.
