Authors: Robin Roseau
“Let’s get through tonight first,” I suggested. “Dean hasn’t made up his mind yet, and you know I won’t be able to keep him reined in more than one night.” If Dean decided he liked her, he’d be as protective of her as he was of his other friends. But if he wanted her gone, he’d drive her away. I wouldn’t want to subject her to that.
Frank and Patty arrived a few minutes before six. Patty was one of those women who don’t leave the house without full makeup, and she arrived as a force onto herself, tastefully dressed in a pantsuit and artistically composed. Frank was somewhat more casual, but she’d made him dress up a little, too. He looked good. He always did. Patty saw to that.
She told me that early in their marriage, he’d started to put on weight. She told him in no uncertain terms he was going to take care of himself. She had already taught him to treat
her the way she demanded, and so with this fresh demand, he had accepted her leadership. I was jealous of the quality of their relationship, in a way, but it gave me heart to see relationships could last.
They brought more wine. Patty had asked what we were having for dinner, so she brought something that would go well with both the salmon and the soup. I may not have planned the
meal well — I wasn’t sure this was the right combination. But I made what I wanted, and I’d wanted the salmon, and I’d wanted the soup. I refused to feel bad if there were better combinations I could have chosen.
Ten minutes later, we were all seated at my table. I always made couples split up. Elsa had maintained possession of Dolores, and I put Frank on her other side. I was across the table from her, and so I’d put a buffer zone around her. But everyone was on his best behavior, and Elsa was clearly befriending Dolores, so I felt everything would be okay.
A minute or two into the meal, however, Dean announced, “I’ve behaved.”
“And you are going to continue to,” I said.
“I want to know her story,” Dean said. He turned to Dolores. “Tell us about yourself, Dee.”
Dolores bristled for a moment, and I was about to rush to her defense. “I asked you not to call me that,” she said quietly.
“What’s the big deal?” he asked.
I could have killed him, but Dolores handled it. “The big deal? That’s what my scumbag ex-husband was calling me while assuring
me, ‘She didn’t mean anything to me, Dee.’ Except he’d been sleeping with her for four years, and two years with the one before that.” She paused. “Now you know what the big deal is and my story at the same time.”
Elsa said something in German t
oo quietly for me to hear, and I saw the two of them clasp hands for a moment. I thought that was sweet. With another couple, I might have worried about jealousy, but Gabby didn’t have a jealous bone in her body, and Elsa would never give her a real reason to grow one.
Dolores turned back to Dean to see if he was going to push harder.
He cocked his head, then smiled. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I just like nicknames.”
“Maybe you can wait until you get to know me better before you try any others on me,” she
suggested.
She was actually doing better than I thought she would. She’d seemed so vulnerable, but she was putting up with Dean better than I would have expected.
But I could tell Dean was considering his options. I caught Mike’s eye. If Dean picked on her after my repeatedly asking him to be nice, I’d never invite him back.
“How long has it been, Dolores?” Mike asked gently.
“I caught him a little over a year ago,” she replied. “It was staring me in the face for the longest time, but I was in denial.” She looked around. “Not counting family, this is my first social event since.”
I hadn’t known that.
There was a pregnant pause, broken by Dolores. “There are variations to five hundred,” she said. “Which set of rules do you follow?”
“Variations?” said Gabby. “What variations?”
“Do you play nulla?” she asked.
Five hundred is a trick game, similar to bridge.
Nulla is a rule that some people hate. If you have a poor hand, you can bid nulla, and if you get the bid, then you’re saying instead of taking as many tricks as possible, you won’t take any at all. Your opponents will try to force you to take at least one trick.
“No,” Gabby said. “
Nulla is for wimps.”
“Do you then allow someone to declare a misdeal if they have a poor hand?”
“You play what you’re dealt,” Gabby said.
I actually liked playing
nulla, but I hadn’t been willing to fight with everyone else about it. I tried declaring “house rules” a few times, but it hadn’t been worth it. And so we didn’t include it.
“All right. Do you play six-bids?”
“No.”
“The last variation I know has to do with bidding,” Dolores said. “Some people say six hearts. Some people say indicate hearts. They are both six bids, but they
imply little differences.”
“We say ‘six’,” Gabby said. “I’ve never heard anyone say ‘indicate’.”
“We have a few special rules though,” Patty said. “We don’t let partners be partners. It has led to some uncomfortable fights in the past, so we don’t do it. Sidney will declare who is partner with whom, and we play two games then switch. If one table finishes early, they might play a third game, but it doesn’t count for the overall standings.”
Dolores nodded. “Are you guys hard core?”
“We focus on the game,” Gabby said. “We’re kind of competitive.”
“There are prizes,” I said. “Including a booby prize. If you win the booby prize, you have to put it on, and we take pictures.”
Dolores laughed nervously. “What is it?”
“Whatever I buy,” I said with a grin.
“Don’t let her fool you,” Dean said. “She has a closet full of prizes, and she picks the booby prize based on who has to wear it.”
“I do not!” I
replied in mock indignation.
“And yet, every time you win, it’s something innocuous,” Dean said, “but when I have the rare bad night, it’s something horribly embarrassing.”
“I didn’t say I didn’t pick the prize based on who is getting it,” I said with a grin. “But I don’t have an entire closet to choose from. It’s only half a closet.”
That generated laughter.
“Like what?” Dolores asked.
“I had to wear a clown nose last month,” Gabby admitted.
“It was cute,” Elsa said. “The last time I lost, I had to wear one of those hats that kids can get when they go to Burger King.” She gestured with her hands, simulating a crown. “But Dean got the best shirt one day. Gabby wanted the shirt.”
Dean glowered. “I know you saved that one for me!” he said, looking at me.
“I did,” I replied. I looked at Dolores. “It was a cropped tee shirt.” I gestured across my middle. “And across the chest, it said, ‘100% Woman’.”
There were chuckles from around the room.
“Don’t worry,” I assured her. “It’s all in fun, and I save the best for Dean.”
“Sidney picks out the best prizes,” Patty said. “A few months ago, I won a really good book.” She turned to me. “It was fascinating. Thank you.”
Dolores turned to me. “I didn’t realize you put so much work into it.”
I shrugged. “It’s not that much work. A couple of times a year, I go shopping. I wrap everything but leave
cryptic little post-it notes on them so I remember what they each are. Nothing is expensive, but I try to find things people wouldn’t buy for themselves.”
“I’d have bought that shirt that Dean wore,” Gabby said. We all laughed. She actually wouldn’t have, but she
may have in her younger years, and if I’d given it to her, I had no doubt she’d have worn it. It would have embarrassed Elsa far more than Gabby.
“The booby prizes are a little mean,” Mike said. “You’ve just had a horrible night of cards, and then she heaps embarrassment on us afterwards.”
“You have to learn to laugh at yourself,” I observed. I paused. “Do people want me to stop buying booby prizes?”
“No!” said several voices.
Elsa was looking at me thoughtfully. “When you first began inviting me, before Gabby and I were even together, I did not understand. I heard you say ‘booby prizes’ and I thought you meant…” she waved her hands at her chest. She earned a little laughter. “And the second month, I lost, and I thought it was deeply humiliating to have to wear those rabbit ears.” She gestured again. I’d bought pink bunny ears, and at the time I’d thought they were the tamest thing I could have made her wear. “I almost didn’t come back.”
“Oh Elsa,” I started to say, but she held up her hand, and continued to speak in her measured English.
“I talked to my sister back home,” she said. “I told her about it. She asked, ‘Did she pick on you because you are German?’ And I told her you made someone else wear that mustache, and that you were treating me like anyone else. My sister suggested making friends in a foreign country can be difficult, and that your prizes help us laugh at each other.” She paused and cocked her head. “You might say, the prizes help break the ice. You should not stop.” Then she looked at Dolores. “But it is good to let new players understand we are not picking on them if they lose. We all take our turn. I think perhaps people look forward with a little fear and a little excitement to see your booby prizes, Sidney.”
“I still think you should pick the prizes before we start,” said Dean.
“Oh?” I asked. “Would you have enjoyed the book I gave Patty, or the pashmina that Elsa won a few months ago?”
“Oh,” he replied. “Well, the booby prizes then.”
“The shirt you wore wouldn’t be as funny on one of the women,” I said. “And it’s a lot funnier to make Patty wear a fake mustache than to make you wear one.”
“Oh,” he said again. “Damn it. Well, at least you should let us pick when you win.”
“Oh please. I always pick the one that I’ll find most embarrassing,” I said. “I may have made Elsa wear bunny ears, but if you’ll recall, the last time I lost, I wore not only a pair of pink rabbit ears, but a tail as well.”
“You looked cute,” Gabby said. She turned to Dolores. “She even twitched her nose at us and then went to the refrigerator and grabbed the carrots. She was still eating a carrot when we left.” Then she turned back to me. “But I believe Elsa and I will do a little shopping, and when you lose, you will wear the booby prize we have picked.” She smiled sweetly at me. She glanced at Elsa, and I wondered if they had already been shopping, and if there wasn’t a little potential gift waiting for me in their car, in case I played poorly tonight.
We all had bad nights, after all. I won my share, but I lost my share, too.
“All right,” I said. “That’s fair. Are you also going to buy prizes for when I win?”
“No,” Patty said. “I am. And in case you’re wondering, yes, I have
Gabby’s phone number and know how to dial it.”
That answered that question. I inclined my head to her.
“Well, if I lose,” Dolores said, “I will strive to be gracious while I wear whatever prize I have won.” She turned to me. “Are there other special rules?”
“No, I don’t think so,” I said. “Do you normally play
nulla?”
She nodded.
“Oh, not this conversation again,” Gabby said.
“I was just curious,” I said.
“We live in a democracy,” Elsa said. “Perhaps we should have a new vote.” Gabby glared at her. Elsa was pushing her buttons. I didn’t think Elsa cared either way. She was a clever but quiet card player, which was quite different than her behavior much of the time. She was never outrageous, but she was quite willing to let her opinion be known, and the way she had homed in on Dolores when she thought she had identified a homophobe was classic Elsa.
“I just want to play cards,” Mike said. “Are we done eating?”
“I heard something about tiramisu,” Dean said.
“For the break,” I said. “So you better continue to behave.”
He offered a hurt expression, but I returned a droll look and considered raising a rude gesture.
I began to climb to my feet, intending to clear, but Dolores put a hand on my shoulder. “You cooked. We’ll clean up.” She looked around the table. “I saw Mike with tools, so while he didn’t cook, I bet he was fixing something. Dean, Gabby, and Elsa, we’re the cleanup squad.”
I was impressed by her. She took charge. I shouldn’t have been surprised. She was a manager, after all, and I had no doubt she’d earned the promotion. I just hadn’t expected her to be so comfortable. I wondered if I should ask her about it later.
The cleanup squad rose without a complaint, which impressed me as well. They cleared the table efficiently,
moving into the kitchen. The sounds of clinking dishes and laughter wafted out to us.
“So,” said Patty. “What’s the rest of her story?”
“She’s a client,” I said. “I like her.”
“Like-like her?” Patty asked, an eyebrow
raised.
“She’s straight, Patty,” I said. “Why does everyone assume that?”
“You’re awfully protective…”
“She’s a client. It’s my job to protect her.” I paused. “I can’t talk about that. It wouldn’t be professional of me.”