My Favorite Half-Night Stand(37)
Chris, Millie, and Alex all swing their gazes to Ed, and I’d punch him if he weren’t so far away, and also holding a butter knife.
“What?” he says, mouth already full. He swallows around a bite, and at least has the decency to look remotely apologetic. “Your mom asked if I was seeing anyone”—he aims a smile in Rayme’s direction—“which I’m not, if anyone was wondering. I didn’t know our Find a Date for Commencement plan was a secret.”
At my side, Millie drains half of her wine, but doesn’t come to my assistance.
“It’s just for fun,” I assure them with a small wave. “The administration is going all out for the Obama visit, and we thought it might be a good reason to find dates. Simple.”
My mom shakes her head. “It certainly doesn’t sound simple. In my day, we actually went out and met people. Dances, blind dates, drinks. For God’s sake, you could be talking to one of Millie’s serial killers online.”
“I don’t actually know any serial killers,” Millie clarifies.
“Here’s the thing,” Rayme says, motioning to Chris, Ed, Alex, and me. “I get why they’re doing it. It’s like a conveyor belt of ladies they can scroll through while they play Overwatch or circle jerk or whatever it is they do. But Millie? Ugh. Dating sites are like the second circle of hell for women.”
Millie lifts her glass again. “Not wrong.”
“It hasn’t been too bad,” Ed says with a shrug. “I’ve had a good match. So has Reid. He’s talking to two, actually.”
Wow. Ed is really getting his ass kicked later.
“Reid,” Mom says, tone disapproving. “I do not want you out there stringing anyone along.”
Rayme pipes up next to her. “Yeah, Reid.”
“It’s not like that,” I assure them, stepping on Rayme’s foot beneath the table. “We’re just getting to know each other.”
“I don’t understand what computers have to do with sex,” my dad says. “Why not just go down to Rita’s—it’s that little place just off the highway. You remember that, Reid? Thursday night is ladies’ night and beers are only two dollars. Place is full of women.”
“Dad—”
“Oh my God, Jim,” Mom cuts in, delighted, “do you remember when Reid was seventeen and tried to sneak in?”
“Got picked up by the sheriff for a fake ID!” Dad barks out a laugh and slaps his prosthetic arm on the table, causing the silverware and glasses to jump with the impact. Of course, every Campbell, as well as Chris and Millie, is used to it, but Ed and Alex both visibly startle in their seats.
“Point is,” Dad says, “you should give it a try while you’re here.”
After I promise my parents that I’ll give Rita’s a shot, the rest of dinner is fine for the most part. Dad and Chris continue to speak quietly about phosphates and calcium concentrations in the area. Rayme joins in, and for the first time, I see Chris’s eyes light up when she mentions a new cover crop they’re going to try to bring up the pH of the soil. Alex and Ed give up on trying to lure Rayme into a conversation and end up listening as Mom loudly shares stories about the woman who makes weird art down the road, every now and then looking up to check Dad’s reaction when she loudly enunciates the name Marla. The subject of my dating life is thankfully dropped.
To my right, Millie nudges me with an elbow. “You get enough to eat?”
I nod. This is the semiquiet part of the evening. Once the wine is really flowing, all hell breaks loose around here. “Just enjoying the calm before the storm. And by storm I of course mean board games and drunk nudity.”
She stretches, and in a very un-Millie-like action, kisses my cheek. “Thanks for always including me.”
True to form, shit really does hit the fan after dinner and cake. Alex and Rayme pull out a deck of cards and get swept up in a rousing game of Kings. Mom joins in, and at least three glasses of wine are spilled, but four bottles are consumed, so I’m not sure anyone notices.
Twister is brought out, and only then does Mom put her drunken foot down and suggest that Rayme put on shorts, at least. After I nearly break my leg trying to keep my right foot on red and my right hand on green, the other six drunken adults gather around the coffee table to play Bullshit with six sticky decks of cards, and I go in search of Millie, who disappeared about a half hour ago.
I find her bundled up on the back deck, changed into a sweater and jeans, reading on her iPad. She has the thick comforter from her bed wrapped around her, and has found one of Dad’s wool caps to pull over her mess of hair. It’s chilly out, but not freezing, and as soon as the door inside closes, the quiet falls like a hush over the deck. The vineyards stretching out ahead of us are an invisible sea of black.
“Hey, you.” I sit in the lounge chair to her right, facing her. “You’re missing Ed’s recounting to Mom the time he was nearly run over by his ex-girlfriend, the fire breather from the carnival.”
She grins up at me, joking, “You can only hear that story so many times before it’s just another story, you know?”
“What’re you reading?”
Millie tilts her iPad toward me. “I’ll Be Gone in the Dark.”
“My adorable true crime fanatic.”