She picked up the wine now, drank. “Your mother did, however, invite me to an impromptu backyard barbecue this Sunday.”
He laughed, lifted his glass in salute. “See? They didn’t take no for an answer.”
She hadn’t considered that, and now saw Brooks was right. “Your mother seemed to ignore my reasonable excuse to decline. I thought it might be better to write her a polite note of regret.”
“Why? She makes great potato salad.”
“I have my gardening and household chores on my schedule for Sunday.”
“Chicken.”
“I’m sure your mother makes very nice chicken, but—”
“No. You’re a chicken.” He made a clucking sound that deepened her frown and stirred her temper.
“There’s no need to be rude.”
“Sometimes honest is rude. Look, there’s no reason to be nervous about hanging out in the backyard and eating potato salad. You’ll have fun.”
“No, I won’t, because I’ll have neglected my schedule. And I don’t know how to behave at a backyard barbecue. I don’t know how to have conversations with all those people I don’t know, or barely know, or how to meet the curiosity that would, I assume, be aimed at me because you and I have been having sex.”
“That’s a lot of don’t knows,” Brooks decided, “but I can help you with all of it. I can give you a hand with the gardening and household chores beforehand. You do just fine with conversations, but I’ll stick with you until you’re comfortable. And they may be curious, but they’re disposed to like you because I do, and my mother does. Plus, I’ll make you a promise.”
He paused now, waited until she lifted her gaze to his.
“What promise?”
“You give it an hour, and if you’re not having a good time, I’ll make an excuse. I’ll say I’ve got a call I have to handle, and we’ll go.”
“You’d lie to your family?”
“Yeah, I would. They’d know I’m lying, and understand.”
There, she thought, one of the complications that tangled into social duties and interpersonal relationships. “I think it’s best to avoid all of that and just send a note of regret.”
The Witness
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"White chicken egg square" by Ren West, square crop by uploader -
http://flickr.com/photos/renwest/436827618. Licensed under CC BY 2.0 via Wikimedia Commons - https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:White_chicken_egg_square.jpg#/media/File:White_chicken_egg_square.jpg
After nearly 25 years of marriage, I'm still a whole lot more social than my spouse, a personality clash that tends to become more pronounced during the winter holidays -- as well as during the summer BBQ season. Fortunately, we've learned to compromise.
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Work, she thought, when he left her alone. At least there she knew what she was doing, what she was up against. No turning back, she reminded herself, as she sat at her station. For either of them, from any of it.
And still she felt more confident at the prospect of taking on the Russian Mafia than she did attending a backyard barbecue.
The Witness