Bitches and Poodles

Torn between being a bitch and a sister, I retreated to the backyard. I guess the bitch won. Even the walls of this modern fortress couldn’t block the noise from within. I took a deep breath, ran through all the excuses I could possibly make for a sudden, unannounced departure, and after realizing none of the excuses would work, took another deep breath.

Re-smelling the dog shit on my shoe, I began searching for a garden hose, walking carefully in order to avoid further poodle infestation. After a few minutes spent in the bushes, I finally found one. But my feeling of accomplishment was short lived as I realized the hose was not connected to the spout, and a spout was no where in sight. In frustration I marched myself out of the bushes, slightly tripping as I stepped back onto the beaten path.

“Fuck this shit,” I yelled, pulling off my black flats and throwing them into the swimming pool.

“You’ve always had a way with words.”

I wheeled around to find my overly tan, overtly confident ex-boyfriend, Mark.

“Yeah, well,” I shrugged and then smiled, brushing my hair back into submission with my fingers.

“Your shoes are in the pool,” he smiled and walked toward me.

“Yeah, well,” I shrugged again.

“You were in the bushes.”

“Again, you know.” But not even I wholly knew.

“Yeah, sometimes.” I always felt like Mark could read my mind, look right through me. It terrified me. It was one of the reasons we broke up.

“Did you just get here?” I asked, trying to block my mind from his supernatural powers.

“Yeah. Did I miss anything good? I hope not the dance train,” he laughed.

“No, not the train. But Emily’s now engaged,” I tried to look happy for her. But who was I kidding, this was Mark I was talking to.

“No, shit,” he said with an air of disbelief.

“No, definitely shit,” I sighed, glancing at my shoes floating in the pool. “I better get back inside. You know, sister of the newly engaged and all.”

“Right.”

“Right.”

“So do we like him? What’s his name? Jacob?” Mark always used “we.” “We” went to this party. “We” bought this C.D. “We, we, we.” It was another reason “we” broke up.

“Uh…he’s okay. Meredith hates him, but…”

“But Meredith hates any guy you two date,” Mark finished, again with the all-knowing.

Mark held the door open for me as I took another deep breath and re-entered the party. I saw a large crowd near the stone fire place in the living room, and I assumed Emily and Jacob were the eye of the hurricane.

“I should go find Em,” I said over my shoulder, and Mark nodded and motioned me to go.

As I desperately tried to make my way to Emily, I was stopped and congratulated by the guests at the party. “Aren’t you thrilled?” I was asked. “Were you surprised?” “When do you think the wedding will be?” I wondered if Meredith was being asked these questions, or if because I was the eldest sister, I received such questions. I answered with smiles and shrugs, clinging to the hope I wasn’t as transparent as I felt.

Finally, Emily.

“Hey” was all I could get out. Emily hugged me, and I think I hugged back.

“Oh, don’t be mad I didn’t tell you last night, but Jacob thought it would be so much fun to announce it at the party since his parents would be here too. Can you believe it? I’m engaged. Me! Engaged! To be married!” Emily reminded me that we were related to Meredith after all.

“I know” was, again, all I could manage.

With so many bidding for Emily and Jacob’s attention, I bowed out, telling Emily I’d talk to her after the party. I found Meredith at the bar when I re-emerged from the mosh pit.

“She’s only known him four fucking months,” was my greeting.

“We need to be supportive.” I’m a fucking hypocrite.

“Supportive? Supportive? He’s awful!” She was loud, but luckily the euphoria of the announcement was louder.

“Meredith! Stop! God, what if Emily hears you?” I looked around, making sure the coast was clear. We both stood silently, drinking and watching the joy we should have been illustrating.

“Mark’s here,” Meredith finally said, continuing to stare into the crowd.

“I saw him.” I reached over the bar and grabbed an opened bottle of champagne. At first the bartender gave me the same shocked look. “Give me a fucking break,” I glared back. He turned bright red, and I felt like even more of an idiot. He probably wasn’t even twenty years old. I poured more champagne into Meredith’s glass. “I can’t believe Mother still invites my ex-boyfriends to her parties.”

“I can’t believe they still come,” Meredith hiccupped.

Who was I kidding? Boyfriends, plural? I have had only one sex partner in my twenty-five year existence. Mark. Some would assume, including my sisters and mother, I must be a hopeless romantic or a prude, but I’m neither. I am still not quite sure what I am, but I know not that.

“Speaking of…” Meredith motioned to Mark walking our toward us.

“Did you find her?” Mark asked, walking toward us. “Hey, Meredith.”

“Yeah,” I replied. Meredith just raised her eyebrows in response.

“He seems like a nice guy,” Mark offered, taking the champagne bottle out of my hand and giving it back to the bartender.

Meredith and I both grunted, and the subject that didn’t even take off was grounded.

Mark tried to converse again, “Meredith, I know this guy you might like.”

Meredith downed the last of her champagne and walked away without a word.

My family and I have always apologized for Meredith’s behavior. As the baby of the family, we have always allowed behavior that was unacceptable for the rest of us. So even at twenty-two, I found myself offering an excuse on her behalf, “She’s having a bad day.” And then I added for my behalf, “No one has complimented her new dress.”

The rest of the brunch was a long, slow migraine. With too much champagne on an empty stomach, my goal changed from “happy, older sister” to “don’t vomit in public.” The last guest took their leave at three as I was starting to wonder what my mother would serve for dinner if the guests remained.

Meredith made an excuse and left around two, something about work, which I greatly doubted. Even Emily and Jacob left around two thirty. I would have followed them out had my mother not guilt me into staying.

“But your not leaving too, are you, Becca? All my daughters leaving me.” And I swear to God, she was teary eyed.

“I’ll stay only if you promise to feed me,” and I slouched onto the couch exhausted. “Where’d Dad disappear to?”

“Oh, I told him to go figure out how much we can spend on this wedding.” Her tears were gone as she mentally transported herself to the world of party bliss. “Grab an apple or something and come with me to walk the dogs.”

“I’m not going with you. You don’t walk the dogs. It’s embarrassing,” I whined as only a daughter can whine to their mother—juvenile and guilt free.

“I do too walk the dogs. Oh, come on. Do this one thing for your mom.”

“Fine” and I dropped my head backwards onto the couch cushion before rising to “walk” the dogs.

I climbed into the passenger seat of my mother’s light blue Lexus SUV, which cost roughly what I make in an entire year. With the garage door opened, the two unleashed poodles took down the street as my mother climbed into the driver’s seat and quickly pulled out of the driveway.

“Come! This way! Come! Peaches! Pumpkin!” my mother yelled out her rolled down window at the dogs.

As we slowly made our way around the block in the SUV, the poodles ran by its side. My mother having to encourage them with her yells, occasionally waving at neighbors in their yards or correctly walking their own dogs. I propped my arm on the door and rubbed my forehead to hide my face, hoping to remain anonymous from the onlookers who found this “walk” as absurd as I did.

“There is so much to do for the wedding,” my mother said as we pulled back into the garage, poodles following. And there it was—my biggest fear and expectation.

“Have they set a date?” I asked, wondering how many acts this circus was going to be able to squeeze in.

“No, but they’re hoping for sooner than later.”

I always knew Emily had a kind soul.