Whether for efficiency reasons or as a result of a complete lack of creativity, our family’s second attempt at hosting this gathering is a carbon copy of the first. The advantage of throwing the same party twice, I suppose, is that the setup is easy—simply do what I did last time.
Well. Minus one thing.
There have been upgrades here and there, of course. The menu now features expanded vegetarian options, for example, and the color scheme has evolved from peaches and cream to strictly black and white, as per the changing trends of the internet. Sadly, we have not updated the groom.
I’m dragging a Muskoka chair across the lawn by its huge wooden armrest when Shannon finally appears, sliding open the glass door and stepping onto the patio. She is party ready, resplendent in a white linen dress that drapes across her left shoulder and shows her (really very natural) spray tan to advantage. Her blond hair has been styled into perfect waves, brushed until they shine.
She raises a manicured hand over her eyes, surveying the scene. Closest to her, on the deck, are the food tables, and dotted around the lawn are tall cocktail tables, borrowed from the church basement and covered in white linens. There’s a drinks station set up on the far right of the lawn, which is really just a table with some empty glasses on it and a neat line of coolers beside.
Dad has painstakingly strung up our Christmas lights all along the perimeter of the back fence, and when the sun goes down later, the effect will be beautiful, casting the entire lawn and the old maple trees toward the back in a perfect golden glow.
A huge painted canvas stands sentinel on the patio, near the doors, left over from last time. It readsshe said yesin looped cursive handwriting, and thenShannon & Dan’s Engagement Partyin neat block letters below. Underneath that, if you lookreallyclosely, you can see the brushstrokes painting over the party’s original date.
The sound of Mom’s voice floats out across the lawn. I look toward it, then snap my head back down when I realize who she’s talkingto.
“The tables look good,” I hear my sister say to her as she steps out onto the deck.
“That was Annie’s idea!” Mom says triumphantly. “See how much your sister has been helping?”
Her insistence that I prep for this party is all making sense now. Mom has been trying to get the proverbial band back together ever since the last engagement party, lying on behalf of both Shannon and myself in the hopes it will help forge a truce. I know what I say about Shannon whenever she raises this topic; I can only wonder at what Shannon says aboutme.
“Sweetheart!” Mom calls out to me. “Your sister is here. Come and say hello!”
She scurries back inside, leaving the two of us out here alone, forced to acknowledge each other.
“I think the Muskoka chairs should be farther back,” Shannon says, skipping the hellos altogether.
“Sure.”
“Dan wants enough room to play Beersbee.”
“Makes sense.” Who wouldn’t want to play Beer Frisbee at their re-engagement party?
She watches silently while I drag one Muskoka chair, then the other, toward the back fence. I rotate them, ungracefully, nudging them into place with myhip.
Once they’re facing each other, I dust my hands off on my jean shorts and turn toward the house. “I’m all dirty, so I won’t…” I say, gesturing at her white dress.
“Yeah, don’t,” she says, stepping aside to let me through. She awkwardly pats my shoulder as I walk past. This is the first time we’ve seen each other in two years.
That my sister became the great stranger of my adult life would be a surprise to my younger self. We used to be so close.
Then cameDan.
To say I hate this man with the fire of a thousand suns would be putting it mildly. I’d pay good money to never have to see him again. Unfortunately for me, they don’t take credit cards in hell.
—
Mom takes one look at me when I come through the sliding glass doors and hustles me upstairs to make myself presentable, with explicit instructions to take my time and not to take too long.
“People will start arriving around two,” she warns me. “I want you dressed and downstairs so you’re here to greet them.”
Considering the role I played at the original engagement party, it would definitely be saying something if I wasn’t outside with the rest of the family, smiling at the guests.
It’s not only Mom who will be watching closely to see whether I make another scene: something tells me that for many of the RSVPs, I’m one of the main attractions.
—
I keep my vow to my mother and am downstairs, ready to go, at 2p.m.sharp. I spend ages agonizing over my outfit to officially re-enter family life, torn as to whether to go with a look that says “innocent, contrite, sweet angel” or one that says “unapologetic demon dressed to kill.”
