One Pink Line (7 page)

I made a gesture like I was ringing someone’s neck with my hands, and Kendra just looked at me like I should stop. “Relax and enjoy yourself, Ethan is nuts about you, and who cares what his mother thinks anyway. If she doesn’t like you, she must be crazy.”

“And we’ve filled our crazy mother quota already,” I added.

“Why don’t you bake her a potato kugel and say it’s your grandma Eddie’s famous Passover recipe,” Kendra laughed.

“Oy!” I yelled.

I drove over to Ethan’s house around six o’clock. The iron gates at the end of his driveway were open, so I pulled my car up to the valet, grabbed my hostess gift off the passenger seat and rang the bell. Although we’d been dating for five weeks, it was the first time I’d met his parents. I rang the bell a second time, and just as I was about to walk around back, his father answered the door and proved to be the source of Ethan’s height and deep-set eyes.

“You must be Sydney,” he greeted me with a baritone voice as their golden retriever, Sparky, galloped up beside him.

I lifted my head and shoulders to meet his gaze. “Hello, Mr. Reynolds, thank you for having me, you have a beautiful home. I’m Sydney Shep…”

“Ethan is out back with the others,” he said and left me at the door. Sparky sniffed my crotch, then chased after him. Meeting the father was a breeze.

I stepped inside their foyer and marveled at the intricate moldings and elegant decor. My house did not have a foyer, in fact the bottom of our stairwell was so close to the front door, it felt like you were stepping onto an escalator when you walked in. The Reynolds reception area was covered in black and white square marble floor tiles, and there was a large circular table in the center of the entry that held family photos and a four-foot ceramic vase of hydrangea stems. I walked past it, through the library and out the double glass doors onto their back patio. Ethan was sitting on a cement ledge that surrounded the terrace.

“Hey, you,” he stood and walked over to me. “Come with me to the kitchen, my mom said to bring you over as soon as you got here.”

Ethan looked amazing. He was wearing a white linen dress shirt with a pair of faded Levi’s and no shoes. He kissed my cheek as soon as he reached me.

“I brought her some wine,” I held up the bottle. “Well, my mom sent her some wine actually.”

In the short time that we’d been dating, we’d had ample conversations about our families, and he knew the challenges I faced living with a woman who wiped her feet on my self-esteem almost daily. I’d told him how she’d always favored Kendra, and how, try as I might, there was nearly nothing I could do to impress my mother. These were things I never shared with anyone, and eighteen-year old boys weren’t necessarily bred to be therapists, but confiding in Ethan always made me feel better.

When he and I walked into his kitchen, Mrs. Caroline Reynolds was standing near the sink, telling the caterers to be sure and keep the ice buckets full, and the wine chilled. Nothing is worse than lukewarm chardonnay I heard her pronounce. She instructed them to uncork a few of the bottles, so guests could easily pour their own glass if they wanted, but they should offer first. Clear the empties immediately, and be sure to put glass and plastics in the recycling bin. She was a pioneer in that field.

Mrs. Reynolds was tall and rail thin. She wore a Lily Pulitzer mini skirt and a long sleeved white cable knit sweater that accentuated her tan. Her hair was blond and pulled into a tight, short ponytail. I immediately pictured her closet filled with Vera Bradley bags and tennis rackets.

“Mom,” Ethan called from behind her. “Sydney’s here.”

She turned immediately around and smiled. “Hello, darling, it’s wonderful to finally see you,” she said with a smoker’s voice as she approached. “Ethan is notorious for giving me very little information, so I hope we can sit together like girls and have a proper chat later?”

“She’s not interested,” he joked, and I smacked his arm.

“I’d love to, just tell me when,” I handed her the bottle of chardonnay I’d brought, unchilled.

She looked me up and down, and all around, so much so that I had to resist the compulsion to spin.

“Why, thank you, Sydney,” she said as a caterer hurried over and grabbed the wine from her. “Later, okay? I’ll find you in a little bit and we’ll talk.”

“Let’s go,” Ethan grabbed my hand. “Good luck finding her,” he teased.

About two hours into the party, Mrs. Reynolds approached us. “My turn,” she said, holding a wine glass, and a cigarette so thin, it looked like the stem of a Tootsie pop.

“I’m ready,” I jumped up and locked elbows with her. She was much taller than me, about five-foot-eight, in flats. I could hear my mother’s voice in the back of my head, so I arched my back and stood as straight as I could.

We walked inside through the double glass doors and she guided me to a set of couches, upholstered in a pale green paisley fabric. The couches were flanked with antique wooden end tables, each with matching table lamps and an assortment of jeweled frames and coasters.

“Please have a seat,” she gestured to me, and then waited for me to sit down.

“Your house is beautiful, Mrs. Reynolds.”

“How sweet, thank you.”

The Reynolds had three children. Ethan was the youngest, and his older twin sisters were away at UCLA. They stayed in Los Angeles that summer attending summer school and interning on the Paramount Pictures lot, so I hadn’t had a chance to meet them. Ethan told me they were working on the set of Cheers, because his dad was friends with a famous television producer, and got them the gig.

“Do you miss having the girls around this summer?” I asked.

“I’m adjusting, but I’ve been out there twice already,” she winked. “We stayed at the Beverly Hilton just last weekend,” she said in a tone that indicated I should be impressed.

A moment later, Sparky joined us…much to my displeasure. I have never been comfortable around dogs, and I was even less comfortable around people who assumed I should enjoy their dog’s company as much as they did. Sparky began slobbering on my leg, so I discreetly tried to pull away from him.

“Sparkeeeee, nooooo,” she said, calmly. “He’s a lovebug.”

Sparky was undeterred and kept licking me, so I tried petting him lightly on the back. It wasn’t a very welcoming stroke though; it looked more like I was testing an iron to see if it was hot.

“Ethan tells me you’re going to Purdue.”

“Yes,” I answered, shifting my body away from the dog’s nose.

“Do you know anyone else going there?”

“No, I don’t.”

She questioned me for fifteen minutes, about various aspects of my life, and she was much more non-threatening than I had expected her to be. There was an air about her, for sure, but she reacted to my responses without judgment, and was very easy to talk to. Ethan barged in just as she had inquired about my mother.

“Sparky, out!” he shouted. “Mom, she hates dogs, out Sparky!”

Mrs. Reynolds looked at me like I’d just admitted I had no idea what the Beverly Hilton was.

I let out a nervous laugh and glared at him. “I don’t hate dogs, Ethan, I’m just more of a cat person, but I do not
hate
dogs.”

“You said you hated dogs,” Ethan said.

“Well, I don’t,” I repeated, shaking my head assuredly at Mrs. Reynolds.

“We’re leaving anyway,” he announced and grabbed my arm. His mom turned her cheek as I stood and Ethan leaned in and gave her a kiss.

“Nice to finally meet you,” I told her.

“See ya, Mom,” Ethan said.

“Goodbye darling.”

Ethan dragged me back though the front foyer and out onto his driveway. “Follow me, I have a present for you.”

We walked, holding hands, over to his Volkswagen Jetta. He opened the passenger door, reached under the front seat and pulled out a black velvet box.

“I got you a little something,” he said as I took the box from him.

My eyes widened. “E, you didn’t have to do that.”

“I know.”

The lid made a tiny little ‘pop’ sound as I opened the box and uncovered a strand of charcoal-colored freshwater pearls inside. Opening that box took my breath away and made me feel like a princess. Or a queen. Or someone who is used to being handed velvet boxes with jeweled treasures inside. Never before had anyone ever done something so generous and unexpected for me. I cradled the necklace and rolled the individual pearls between my fingers. I looked up at him, my mouth agape.

“I don’t know what to say,” I spoke.

“How about,
thank you,”
he said and we both laughed.

“Thank you, Ethan, thank you so much.”

“It’s my pleasure, and you deserve it for being so sweet to me all the time.”

I unhooked the necklace and Ethan placed it around my neck.

Those pearls were a bond, and I felt protected every time I wore them.

CHAPTER SEVEN

E
than’s parents went to California to visit his sisters two weeks after their block party, and left his grandmother to look after him. Although he was about to start his second year of college, Ethan’s mother refused to leave her home and her beloved Sparky in his care. Thankfully, his grandma had a grueling Bridge schedule, and wasn’t around much, so he and I would rent movies, order food and spend hours rolling around naked in his bed, basement and backyard. My mother had no idea that his parents were gone, since she was never able to befriend Mrs. Reynolds, so she assumed I was hanging out with Taylor on my days off. And despite her overall lack of confidence in me, she knew I wasn’t much of a liar, so she never bothered to corroborate my stories.

Those two weeks were pure heaven. Every minute I spent with him was pure, stress-free bliss, so much so, that I would have a sickly pit in my stomach when the time would come each day for me to go home. My body began to have physical reactions to Ethan; tingling euphoria when we were together, and numb depression when we were apart. My head ached at the thought of going away to college and leaving him. I began to lose sleep, my appetite was non-existent, and my tolerance for my mother drained lower and lower. The last night of Ethan’s parents’ vacation, my mom decided that she wanted me to stay home and go through my closet with her, so I could start packing my trunk for school.

“Not tonight, Mom,” I said, not feeling any urgency to tackle that chore anyway. “We can do it tomorrow.”

“We’re having dinner with the Carlins tomorrow, so you and I will have to get this done tonight.”

My hands began to shake as my body temperature rose. “I have plans tonight.”

She turned to face me with a confused look on her face. It was an expression that read, ‘am I to understand that you are defying me?', and one I was nauseatingly familiar with. “Then cancel them,” she said with no regard for what I’d just said.

I swallowed the lump in my throat and smartly weighed my options before exploding. Option A: starting an argument with her, could result in me being grounded for the night, ultimately ruining my plans for sure, and sending me into a catatonic state. Option B: appease her, and divert her attention so she feels comfortable and confident that she has triumphed over me.

“Mom,” I began robotically and without emotion. “Kendra said, actually, that she would help me go through everything this weekend,” I paused for a second. “And that she was really excited to help,” one more beat. “Also, I was wondering if I could borrow those silver earrings of yours? You know, the long ones that you got in New Orleans.”

I had her at ‘Kendra’ but her smile ignited when I asked for the earrings. “Oh, alright, let me get them for you.”

My evening alone with Ethan was restored, and there was nothing else I cared about. Literally nothing.

He was standing in his driveway when I pulled up, with a six-pack of beer, and a four- pack of Bartles & Jaymes wine coolers. Ethan drank, but he didn’t smoke pot, so it’d been a weed-free few months for me. “Hey, you,” he smiled. “I just got back from Eddie’s,” he said hoisting his stash in the air. Fresh Eddie’s was a liquor store in Evanston that was known across the North Shore for selling booze and cigarettes to underage kids.

We took our beverages around to the back patio, sat on the ground and leaned back against the half wall that circled the Reynolds terrace.