“How bad could this be?”
“It’s like being disemboweled. You expect it’ll be bad, but until you’ve experienced it you can’t actually fathom its awful depths.” I ran my hands down his arms. “I appreciate you being here.”
“Sparky, be it demons or family members, I’ve got your back.”
I exhaled. “Okay. Game time.” I dragged him through the foyer, down the hallway past the grids of framed family photos, and into the living room, opened for this momentous occasion.
The crush of people helped a bit with the room’s general soullessness, though most of them wore black, so they kind of blended into the black-and-white brocade wallpaper.
One of the caterers cleared away the drinks and empty small plates strewn over the modular coffee table.
“Whoa.” Rohan slowed as the packed room turned and stared at our entrance.
“Wait for it,” I muttered. “Blue rinse on your nine.”
“Nava!” A tiny freight train of a woman with a blue-tinted perm barreled toward us. She air-kissed my cheek, bestowing birthday greetings, and then turned her gossip-attuned eye on Rohan. “Are you one of the security boys that Nava does secretarial work for?”
I choked on my quiche.
Rohan patted my back with one hand while extending his other to shake. “Rohan. Pleasure to meet you.”
“Ellen Tannery. I’m Associate Dean of Dov’s Law Department.”
I wiped my mouth with the cocktail napkin. “Rohan’s my boyfriend.”
“Really?” Another women turned with a prim sniff. Awesome, my mom’s aunt Alexia had arrived. Ro got full credit for only giving the mildest startled blink at her overly made-up face with her botoxed forehead that wouldn’t move with a dynamite blast to the face, and her collagen-injected lips that she swore were merely “good genes.”
The Michael Bolton song playing cut out, replaced by Ed Sheeran’s “Shape of You.” Praise unto Ari.
Alexia waved at Rohan with an asparagus tip. “This handsome young man is really your boyfriend?”
“Will wonders never cease?” I said in a tight voice.
Thus began the Parade of Making Nice, involving Rohan and I circulating from group to group while I smiled through a litany of backhanded insults on my professional status from my parents’ faculty friends and blatant disbelief on my love life from my family members. No, that’s not fair. There were family members that combined both, like my half-deaf great uncle Moishe, holding court in Dad’s recliner, who repeated his slights in a voice only slightly quieter than a stadium announcer’s.
Ro was shell-shocked by the time we’d navigated the room once. “These people are horrible.”
“Yeah. Come on, Snowflake.” I tugged on his hand. “You’ve done your time. I’m pronouncing you officially freed for good behavior. Leo will have corralled our friends in the TV room. You’ll be safe there.”
I led Rohan past the charcuterie table first so he could load up on protein because his left eyebrow was twitching, generally a sign he was starving. Though it might also have been PTSD. I shoved a small plate into his hands then waved discreetly at Ari, his elbow caught in a death grip by one of mom’s co-workers. He had the same pained expression on his face he always did when she tried to set him up with her douchebag son. I tipped my head to the door to let him know we were making our escape.
Leo, bless her heart, took one look at Ro and stuffed her highball into his hand. “Start now and keep up a steady intake,” she said. “It’ll make this night go much easier.”
He tossed the drink back. “Can’t we just go fight demons?”
“What do you think we’ve been doing for the past hour?” I grabbed another champagne flute from a passing server and chugged it down.
“Going to greet the parents now?” Leo asked.
I shoved the empty glass in her hand. “Wish me luck.”
I caught my dad sneaking back into the home office, his phone in his hand. He’d dressed up for the occasion, which meant replacing his sweater vest with a plaid button-down shirt that had been ironed to within an inch of its life. “Freeze.”
He stilled mid-reach for the docking system plugged into the house-wide speakers. “You don’t even know what I’m going to play.”
“Steve Miller’s greatest hits.”
He blinked owlishly at me. “Are you psychic?”
“I can see your screen.”
“They’re classics.” He huffed. “Besides, you don’t have time to worry about music. Go talk more with all your guests.”
“Oh, sure.” I planted my hands on my hips. “Should I go slip into my Handmaid’s Tale robe now? Because secretary at a security firm, really, Dad? Uncle Izzy already mansplained how I need to find a nice Jewish boy and get married now that all my dance mishegoss is done with. Haven’t heard that one since last Hanukkah, so it was just swell to be told that if I found the right Executive to work for my M.R.S. was assured.”
“Sweetheart, no one was going to believe the girl who spent the past year racking up temp jobs was hired for any type of actual security position. Be logical.”
I logically wanted to brain him with his phone. I placed my hand on my diaphragm, using a breathing technique from tap to calm the fuck down. “Happy birthday to me.”
“Always. What does a clam do on his birthday?”
I exhaled, rolling back my shoulders and visibly bracing myself for the groaner to come. Dad said so many of the wrong things, but he was the first one with a joke to make light of a situation.
I was my father. Kill me now.
“You ready? Can you take it?” Dad asked.
“I’ve been training. I’m in pretty peak freaking shape. Hit me. What does a clam do on his birthday?”
“He shellabrates. Ba-dum. Tshh.” He mimed hitting a drum set.
“Wow.” I was totally telling that to Ari.
He kissed the side of my head. “Go find your mother. Someone spilled Merlot on her blouse and she’s having a clothing crisis about what to change into.”
We exchanged wry grins. Mom didn’t cope well with on-the-fly decisions.
“Going. Stay away from the music or you’ll remember what magic powers I do have.”
I knocked on my mother’s bedroom door before pushing it open with an “All hail the birthday girl.”
Mom stood in a black pencil skirt and black camisole, a variety of tasteful black blouses arrayed on the bed. She frowned at my blue dress, running a hand over her honey-blonde bob. “Really, Nava. Haven’t you and Ari outgrown that ridiculous show of petulance?” She dropped her hand. “Dear God. What happened to your chin?”
I blushed, cupping my hand over it. I’d thought the ton of concealer I’d used had done the trick since no one else had commented, but Mom had X-ray vision when it came to finding my flaws. “Demon,” I mumbled.
She tsked me. “What’s done is done.”
I kissed her cheek. “Lovely to see you, too, Mom. What’s the problem? Having trouble choosing between black and slightly less black?”