FCKMA

5 - I Successfully Ruin A Party

For the entire week following my arrival, my parents had friends of theirs join us for dinner. In a way, I was grateful for the company, so that I wasn't forced to face my parents alone and have to come up with excuses as to why I wasn't more successful. It was annoying that I had to repeat my entire life story every night, starting from the second I went to college when I was eighteen to present day. I was sure that my parents had gossiped about me in my absence, so that their friends wouldn't badger them, but it was still frustrating to have to reiterate a pathetic story that I was sure had been told many times before.

A few times, there had been guests my age at dinner. Some of them I recognized from school, and I was prompted to make awkward small talk with them throughout the whole meal. Of course, a few of them brought their spouses, which once again, left me out of the loop. I was only too happy to excuse myself from that environment and hide up in my room like an eight year old.

The whole 'dinner party every night' thing was getting on my nerves. I had come to Wisconsin with the idea that Christmas evening was going to be a delightful dinner party of catching up with old friends and opening presents. I was a little disappointed that I now had nothing to look forward too. I had been home for four days and my life had already progressed into an unpleasant rut. I didn't think I could take another sympathetic glance.

"Oh, honey, it'll get better," one of my mother or fathers friends would say, with mustering a small smile and reaching across the table to hold my hand reassuringly. They never once took into consideration that maybe I was content with my life, and that my whole world didn't circulate around the idea of getting hitched to some business owner and moving back into the small town where I and everyone else in my family had grown up. Certainly, the marriage part would be nice, but I was actually happy. It was irritating that it wasn't just Caitlin, but everyone else I was associating with, that believed that I was so displeased with my life that I was going to off myself at any minute.

I prepared myself for the fourth consecutive night of dinner parties, and I went downstairs to help my mother in the kitchen. "No, I don't need any help," she excused me. "Just go and relax and I'll call you when I need help."

"I'm sure your friends will be here any minute," I said, eyeing the clock suspiciously, waiting for the universe to prove me right. I had taken up a bad habit of timing our guests, and they all seemed to arrive at roughly six thirty, with either a bottle of wine or a homemade baked treat in their hands, apologize for being late, and then comment on how cold it was outside. You'd think after living in the same place for six and half decades, they'd come up with other points of conversation.

"Fine. If you're so insistent on helping, you can set the table," my mother said, thrusting some silverware at me. I shook my hand, gently pushing her hand back at her. "I already set the table earlier when you were cooking."

"Well, I'm still cooking, and we have more people coming than expected," she said, placing the extra place settings directly in my hand. "So you can keep setting the table."

I cut myself off mid groan and set down the silverware accordingly. I counted the chairs at the dining room table and then I recounted the places set at the table. "Mom!" I called out childishly. "We don't have enough chairs!"

Mom came out of the kitchen. "That can't be right," she said, doing a quick count. "We only have the Donahue's, the McCormick's, and, lord, who am I forgetting?" She began to trail off, talking to herself more than me. I didn't mind. I never knew who was coming over, so I let her mumble pointlessly.

"It's fine, I can just eat in the kitchen," I invited.

"Oh, goodness, no. Everyone wants to see you, Alison," she insisted. "I'll probably be jumping up all night long anyway. We will make space. We always have space."