I picked up the phone to text her down the hall, but it went off in my hand. The text was in the group chat, which I opened uninterestedly and then froze. “What the fuck is this?” I scrolled through the dozen or so photos before screaming out loud and throwing the phone across the room, where it shattered against the wall before falling to the carpeted floor beneath.
No one came running to check on me, as if they knew. As if they all knew and were laughing at me.
LISA
“Okay, one more, and then I’m done. I hate taking pictures.”
“I don’t see why; you look glamorous. You make me envy short hair.” Selene, one of the sisters, was busy going around snapping pictures and posting them to the group page.
We’d just finished having dinner, which everyone had raved about. The braised lamb shanks that mom had changed out my chicken dish for had been a hit, as well as her Chilean bass and the steak niçoise salad had damn near flown off their plates, and the compliments had been fast and plenty.
I guess I underestimated my guests in that I thought such things were too high-brow for college students, but I’d forgotten that most of the people here, both male and female, came from similar backgrounds to mine and were probably accustomed to mothers like mine who taught them to sit through eight-course meals by the age of six. Most people don’t even know such things exist.
The evening had gone so well that I’d all but forgotten why I’d planned it in the first place. At least I know I haven’t yet lost my soul because I keep doing things to get under Susie’s skin and then forgetting all about her in the end. No one so much as mentioned her, and most importantly, Cody had a blast.
It was cute the way the two of us played host like an old married couple, and I was pleased to see that he took the initiative more than once to connect with the hotel staff when something was needed instead of waiting for me to do it. Of course, this did not go unnoticed by the sisters, who swooned and cut up about how domesticated he was.
All in all, the night was a success, and the proof was in the fact that no one wanted to leave. There was a lot of ‘we should do this again’ and ‘my turn next’ and things like that. Now people were taking pictures to post while the photographer took professional shots. I’d asked her to take solo images of all the attendees as well as couple shots which will be sent both digital and print in a couple of weeks as kind of a memento of the night.
“That was awesome, baby. Your mom worked hard, huh.”
“Hey!” I swatted him playfully as I hung onto his arm. I don’t mind paying with Susie behind his back, but that’s where the lying ends. I’d told him truthfully halfway through dinner when everyone was raving about my choices, that I wasn’t the one who’d chosen the menu. He’d still let his boys compliment me, though, as if I’d done it all myself.
“Oh, the gifts, I almost forgot.” I moved over to the table, dragging Cody along with me and the others followed. I wasn’t sure how to do this, some of them had names since I’d given them to mom, but some didn’t because I didn’t know the frat boys who were there. So, imagine my surprise when each card had a name and a little thank you for coming thing in mom’s flourishing signature style. How the heck….
“Melissa, have you spoken to my mom lately?”
“Surprise! Yes, I gave her the names of the guys who were invited since I know all of them. She thought you were too shy to get them yourself.”
“Thank you; this is so much better than just tossing them out after giving everyone else theirs by name.”
Cody helped me give them out and was surprised to find one with his name as well as one for each of his boys. Those names I’d given her myself, so no surprise there. Steve was the first to open his and held up the leather belt with a whoop, which was soon followed by the others.
My mother is so embarrassing. She couldn’t just get notebooks for the ladies; she had to get them monogrammed, even going so far as to add refills. Now I have to send her peonies to thank her. Why peonies, you ask? Why not one of the too many-hundred-dollar floral arrangements? Because they’re the king of flowers, and Blaire Davenport is all about the symbolism. I’d already decided to save my vase for Cody’s mom when we do finally go see her. Once I learn from her son what kind of flower she prefers, of course.