On the Rocks(44)

I laughed. Bobby had a way of phrasing the most obvious things that you never bothered to think about (and would probably never say out loud). “I agree,” I said as I smoothed suntan lotion over my legs. “Do you have any idea how much money I’ve spent on other people getting married? Engagement gifts, shower gifts, bachelorette gifts, wedding gifts. The whole system is rigged. You get married, so I have to buy you All-Clad pots? How does that work?” I was trying to be supportive of Grace’s frustrations, but I was lying through my teeth. I had loved registering. You really don’t know power until you’re set free in a department store with a registry scanning gun and allowed to zap anything your heart desires. To know that kind of power and then have it suddenly snatched away from you––it was simply too horrible to relive. It was like coming in last place in the appliance Olympics.

I figured that if I checked the wedding rulebook, it’d say that you’re not officially engaged until you’ve had a bridal shower. And since I didn’t make it that far, I was allowed to make fun of all the things that I never got to do. Kind of like a parting gift of sorts.

“Right?” Grace said as she mindlessly thumbed through a magazine. “I’m supposed to buy you top-of-the-line stuff when I can’t afford it for myself, but you and your husband’s combined income will now probably mean you can afford to buy a second home. Single people are f*cked.”

I laughed so hard I got a cramp. “Totally! And meanwhile, I’m still living in a miniature apartment drinking wine out of Solo cups and mugs from various airports, but I’m so glad I spent three hundred dollars to buy you Waterford wine goblets. I guess only married people deserve stemware.”

“And don’t forget, when they buy that second home, you’ll be required to buy them more presents when you go to their housewarming to celebrate them being richer than you are,” Grace added.

Even Bobby laughed at that. “I don’t believe in those. If you buy a house and invite me to come see it, I don’t think I’m required to bring you something. If I am, then I’d prefer to just not be invited. I really don’t care what the wallpaper in the kitchen looks like, you know?”

Grace said, “By the way, I totally get that married people would call us bitter, but I think it’s just being rational. And economical.”

Bobby turned to face Grace. “So what do you consider to be the craziest gift you ever bought off a registry?”

She giggled. “I once got a girl a panini press. Do you believe that? Who eats enough sandwiches to need a panini press?”

“Actually, that sounds awesome,” Bobby said. “I want one.”

“Abby, back me up here,” Grace said as she adjusted the strap on her suit. “Tell Bobby that it’s ridiculous to ask someone to buy you a sandwich maker.”

“Let’s just say it’s not a necessity,” I admitted. I meant for it to sound like I was agreeing with Grace, but the truth was, I was so jealous I could barely breathe. I didn’t think registering for that panini press was stupid in the slightest. Everyone knows you can’t make a good grilled cheese without a really expensive sandwich press. I had registered for one myself, a top-of-the-line, shiny, grilled-cheese-making wonder-machine. I hadn’t thought about it in a very long time. It hurt too much to remember the sandwiches that might have been.

“Well anyway, that’s what I got her, and the truth is, hers wasn’t anywhere near as crazy as some of the registries I’ve seen. I mean, I know girls who registered for $500 ice cream machines when I knew full well that they barely knew how to use their microwaves.”

An ice cream machine! Why didn’t I zap one of those? I thought.

Grace wasn’t finished with her appliance tirade. “Or how about the crazy expensive coffee machines! Thanks for inviting me to your shower, and I know you like cappuccino, but that doesn’t mean you need a professional machine in your apartment. News flash: there’s a Dunkin’ Donuts on every corner in the city.”

“I had no idea that you could get all of that stuff when you get married,” Bobby added. “Can people register for barbecues?”

“You can register for anything you want. It doesn’t mean people will buy it for you, but sure,” I answered. “Why are you asking?”

“If I ever get engaged, and I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but I’m definitely going with my girlfriend when she registers. I could probably get a beer fridge, some barbecue tools, maybe even a cool recliner or something. Can you register at Home Depot?”

“Sure, and then you can be the subject of countless conversations like this one where people make fun of you for expecting them to buy you a recliner or bathroom tiles because of the life choice you made.”

“Laugh away. You think I’ll care while I’m reclining in my Barcalounger?” he asked.

We read our magazines and lay in silence for a few minutes, soaking up the sun and the quiet. Then Grace spoke.

“Your bag is ringing,” she said. I had almost fallen asleep and didn’t hear it. I reached over and dug my phone out of the plastic ziplock bag I kept it in when we went to the beach to keep sand from clogging the keys. I shielded my eyes to make out the number displayed on the caller ID. It was Wolf.

“What’s up, Wolfie? How was golf?” I asked as I lowered the back of my chair a rung to get more sun on my face.