Elliot looks as though he wants to join me, so I say that I’ll be right back, having no intention of doing so. I don’t want to go too far from the campfire since Sandy is there. I walk down a few different paths which all lead to the beach. Maybe he is smoking a joint like I was earlier. It’s unlike him to leave us like that. I turn down another path, which is a little more wooded than the previous paths. I hear rustling in the bushes and think there might be an animal or something. As I get closer to it, I see Jeremy’s sandals. I go closer but then realize he is not alone. He is with a girl, and I assume that it is Tina, though I can’t really be sure. Her face is blocked because Jeremy is making out with her. My eyes widen, and I step back, breaking branches as I go. They hear me and stop kissing—and whatever elsethey’re doing. I retreat quickly, but I know that Jeremy has seen me. I can hear them talking as I make my way back to the fire. Shortly after, Jeremy comes up.
“You ready to go?” He says it matter-of-factly, without saying anything about what I just saw.
Winter 2010
T he holiday season always gives me a peculiar feeling that I can’t quite explain. I remember loving Christmas as a child, as I suppose all children do. I loved decorating the tree as a family, singing Christmas carols, exchanging secret Santa gifts with the class, and eating all kinds of candy and chocolate. Now, I don’t have a tree in my apartment, I don’t sing, we rarely exchange gifts at work, and I have been trying to keep my calorie intake to no more than sixteen hundred a day, which doesn’t allow for candy or chocolate. Maybe the peculiar feeling is sadness. I wonder why we lie to our kids about Santa, and tell them that if they’re good, they’ll get more gifts. Isn’t that the first rule of parenting: don’tbribe? We train kids to believe that this time of year is magical. When we grow up, we realize the truth: there is nothing magical about it.
Tonight is our staff party, to which I agreed to go, solo. Dr. Roerke is also going alone, as he and his wife recently separated. This news came as a bit of a shock to me, and thinking back to it, I am sure this is what Patrick and Deb were whispering about a few weeks ago. Dr. Roerke’s wife was always pleasant, and they seemed to have a good relationship. But that just goes to show that appearance is often different from reality.
Cindy asked if we’d mind if she brought a friend, one of her girlfriends from university who is in town for the weekend. Of course no one minded. Deb and her husband are coming. I think they look forward to going anywhere without the kids. They are actually making a date out of it and going to dinner before the party. Deb invited us all to join them, but we all know that they don’t get a babysitter too often. Patrick was seeing a girl but for unknown reasons they broke up, so he too will be going single.
I’m not really sure what to wear to this thing. Cindy will be wearing something too short or too tight, or both. Deb will pick something from her closet that has probably been there for years but only gets worn on special occasions. After perusing my closet, I decide on black jeans and a grey turtleneck. I know I might be alittle hot in this sweater, but I don’t intend on dancing, so I should be fine.
We all meet at nine thirty at Club Noir. It’s a nice bistro-type bar that is very dark inside, which makes me feel at ease. Cindy and her friend, Nicole, start with shots. I shouldn’t really say start, since it looks as if they’ve had a few before we arrived. They order enough for all of us, but Deb’s husband, Bud, and I don’t take one. I sip my white wine to show them that I am having a drink.
The night continues this way for a while—a lot of laughs and flirting. Dr. Roerke can’t keep his eyes off Cindy, who is quite inebriated by this point. She has her arms around both Patrick and Dr. Roerke and is laughing about God
“You ready to go?” He says it matter-of-factly, without saying anything about what I just saw.
Winter 2010
T he holiday season always gives me a peculiar feeling that I can’t quite explain. I remember loving Christmas as a child, as I suppose all children do. I loved decorating the tree as a family, singing Christmas carols, exchanging secret Santa gifts with the class, and eating all kinds of candy and chocolate. Now, I don’t have a tree in my apartment, I don’t sing, we rarely exchange gifts at work, and I have been trying to keep my calorie intake to no more than sixteen hundred a day, which doesn’t allow for candy or chocolate. Maybe the peculiar feeling is sadness. I wonder why we lie to our kids about Santa, and tell them that if they’re good, they’ll get more gifts. Isn’t that the first rule of parenting: don’tbribe? We train kids to believe that this time of year is magical. When we grow up, we realize the truth: there is nothing magical about it.
Tonight is our staff party, to which I agreed to go, solo. Dr. Roerke is also going alone, as he and his wife recently separated. This news came as a bit of a shock to me, and thinking back to it, I am sure this is what Patrick and Deb were whispering about a few weeks ago. Dr. Roerke’s wife was always pleasant, and they seemed to have a good relationship. But that just goes to show that appearance is often different from reality.
Cindy asked if we’d mind if she brought a friend, one of her girlfriends from university who is in town for the weekend. Of course no one minded. Deb and her husband are coming. I think they look forward to going anywhere without the kids. They are actually making a date out of it and going to dinner before the party. Deb invited us all to join them, but we all know that they don’t get a babysitter too often. Patrick was seeing a girl but for unknown reasons they broke up, so he too will be going single.
I’m not really sure what to wear to this thing. Cindy will be wearing something too short or too tight, or both. Deb will pick something from her closet that has probably been there for years but only gets worn on special occasions. After perusing my closet, I decide on black jeans and a grey turtleneck. I know I might be alittle hot in this sweater, but I don’t intend on dancing, so I should be fine.
We all meet at nine thirty at Club Noir. It’s a nice bistro-type bar that is very dark inside, which makes me feel at ease. Cindy and her friend, Nicole, start with shots. I shouldn’t really say start, since it looks as if they’ve had a few before we arrived. They order enough for all of us, but Deb’s husband, Bud, and I don’t take one. I sip my white wine to show them that I am having a drink.
The night continues this way for a while—a lot of laughs and flirting. Dr. Roerke can’t keep his eyes off Cindy, who is quite inebriated by this point. She has her arms around both Patrick and Dr. Roerke and is laughing about God
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