Page 50 of The New Year's Party
I tsk. “Highway robbery.”
“We need nationalized health care, and elder care.”
Ooh, do I detect a little fire?
“Not happening underthispresident,” I say.
“No shit.”
“You’re too young for your parents to be that old,” I say.
“I was a surprise baby. Mom was fifty.”
“Damn.” Impressive, the bodies of women. “Hey, if you need help going through your parents’ stuff...” I may be Bad Boy Number One, but I’m into good girls. “I know a guy who does estate sales. If you give me your number, I can pass it along.”
“No thanks. I’m almost done clearing out my brother’s old room, and then the upstairs is done. Then it’s just the kitchen and the big furniture downstairs. There isn’t anything really valuable. It’s mostly going to charity.”
“Your brother should be helping you.”
“It’s fine,” she says shortly. She tosses her head, stuffs her hands in her coat pockets, and blows out a long foggy breath. It’s not that cold anymore, definitely above freezing, but the humidity is high. Her voice hardens. “This is what women end up doing. Taking care of people while they get old and die and cleaning up messes afterward. It’s been that way for thousands of years. I don’t know why I imagined my life would be different.”
Ah, a feminist.
“So... youdidn’tparticularly get along with your parents,” I hazard.
Her face takes on a guarded expression. “I never said that.”
“So what’s the attraction to Phelps? You sure cleaned his place up pretty good, for someone who hates cleaning up other people’s messes.”
“Phelps,” she says quietly. She chews on the inside of her cheek. “Yeah. I don’t know what it is about him.”
“Isn’t he a bit old for you?”
“God! Don’t be so ageist!”
“You’re honestly telling me you want Phelps in your cute pants? No. You’d rather be out with your younger, hotter friends.”
She laughs. “I did invite Phelps out, FYI. But he was alreadyhosting this party, so...” She shrugs. “I’ll take him out with my younger, cuter friends next weekend or something. Show him what a good timereallymeans.”
“My guess is it won’t involve wiping down his toilet.”
She throws back her head and laughs. “You’re the worst, Ted.” She hits me gently on the arm. “You freaking men. Theworst.”
This makes me grin.
“Do you resent all of us men, then, or just the particularly oblivious ones? Like, perhaps, this brother of yours? Or... dare I say, Phelps?” I make an exaggerated Sherlock-style gesture and stroke my chin with my fingers.
Her laugh has an edge. “I was kidding. I don’t resent men at all. I resent—”
“Allie, you’re up!” It’s Phelps, damn him, interrupting us just as we were getting somewhere interesting. I love a good impassioned chat about feminism, and her tits aren’t bad either. Tits will get their own chapter in my future book.
“Nice talk, Ted,” Allie says before heading off.
“One might even call it aTED Talk,” I joke, and she calls back an unimpressed “Ha-ha.”
Whatever. I have to take a piss, so I head toward the trees as Allie destroys her first plate. I don’t bother with my phone flashlight to navigate away from the group and into the darkness—I actually have very good night vision. I pick a nice tall tree. Ihear the voices just as I’m unfastening my belt.
“Look for yourself.” It’s Bunny’s voice, with her fake Southern twang like she’s trying to make people think she’s from Nashville. I can’t stand posers like that. There’s a sound of crinkling paper. A light blinks in the near distance.
