Tales of a Sibby Slicker

by Samantha Garman

  My arms went around her automatically. “Hi, Mom.”

  “Where can I set this bird down?” Bud’s gazed darted around the room in question.

  “Kitchen counter,” Aidan said. “Uhm, so. What are you guys doing here?”

  “Not that we’re not happy to see you,” I added quickly.

  Nancy released me and then went to hug her son. “It’s Thanksgiving.”

  “Yeah,” Aidan said. “We know.”

  “Well, I was talking to Sibby’s mom—”

  “You talked to my mom?” I asked with raised brows.

  “Yeah. She called me, actually. She was pretty upset that you both weren’t able to make it to Atlanta for Thanksgiving. And I told her I was upset because you weren’t going to be upstate for Thanksgiving, and she had the genius idea of Thanksgiving in the city!”

  Now wasn’t the time to tell Nancy that Aidan and I never had plans to go to either place for Thanksgiving. Aidan’s appendectomy had given us an out. But I hadn’t counted on my in-laws randomly showing up. That was relegated to my parents.

  The buzzer buzzed again.

  “That must be your parents!” Nancy exclaimed. “Sit down, Sibby, you look a little flushed. I’ll buzz them up.”

  Chapter 32

  #nottonight #Ihaveaheadache

  My mom smothered me in her arms, squashing me against her chest. And then she wrapped her arms around my waist. “I’m just dying to see the sonogram!” she cooed.

  “Oh, me too!” Nancy added, handing my mother a cup of newly brewed coffee.

  “Thanks, Nancy,” my mother said.

  My mother should’ve been on a need-to-know basis. From now on, we were gonna talk about the weather and Jasper.

  “Honey, sit down,” Nancy said to her son. “You’re still recovering.”

  “And you sit down,” my mother commanded me.

  I sank down onto the futon next to Aidan, still in dumb shock. My father and Bud were in the kitchen, talking about the turkey and its size. Nancy and my mother kibbitzed. Jasper jumped up onto the futon and put his head in my lap.

  “You really should’ve gotten another couch,” Mom said. “I think Jasper is past his rip-stuff-to-shreds stage.”

  “Yeah, we’ll look into that,” I said absently.

  “Do you want to cook the turkey?” Nancy asked, turning my mother’s attention.

  Mom shook her head. “Bud shot it. I think you earned the right to cook it.” They laughed and headed into the kitchen to join their husbands.

  “My parents are making it a habit to drop in unannounced,” I said.

  “And now my parents are doing it too.”

  “Gah, there’s four of them!” I buried my head in my hands.

  “I think our Thanksgiving just got hijacked.”

  “Ya think?”

  “Don’t panic.”

  “Panic? Why would I panic?”

  “Because you’re not ready to tell them we’re having—”

  “Sibby? Are you hungry?” Mom called.

  “Nope. I’m good,” I called back. Lowering my voice, I said to Aidan, “I’m nauseated.”

  Aidan’s hand went to my back. “Morning sickness?”

  “Sure, let’s go with that.”

  “Well, I think we should get to cooking,” Nancy said.

  I heard the sound of the fridge opening. “This won’t be enough,” Mom said. “We’ll need more groceries.”

  I’d gotten a delivery from Whole Foods yesterday morning. It had been more than enough to feed six. But now we were feeding ten.

  “Let’s send the men to the store,” Nancy suggested.

  Mom snorted. “With a list. Otherwise they might come back with ice cream and nothing else.”

  “Is it too soon to go back to bed?” I asked him.

  “They’d only follow us,” Aidan said.

  “Borrowed time. When do you think they’ll ask to see the sonogram again?”

  “Let’s get Sibby to show us the sonogram,” Mom said, excitement in her voice.

  “Oh, good idea,” Nancy said.

  I pinched the bridge of my nose. “I’m getting a migraine.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Let’s pretend. I’m gonna go”—I lifted my fingers and did air quotes—“sleep it off.” I stood up, and Jasper made a move to follow me. “He needs to go out.”

  “You’re just gonna leave me out here alone?” Aidan asked, mouth agape.

  I pointed to my belly.

  He sighed. “You can only play that card for six more months. You know that, right?”

  Smiling, I went to the bedroom. With my hand on the door, I said, “And then I’m gonna play the ‘I gave birth to your legacy’ card.”

  “Damn it. I’m never winning again.”

  Just as I was closing the door, I heard my mother ask, “Aidan, where’s the sonogram?”

  I woke up to the delightful smell of a roasting turkey. I took a few moments to enjoy it, and then I was running for the bathroom. Guess it was time to cross turkey off the list, I mused as I brushed my teeth. After cleaning up, I threw on some jeans with a lot of give in the waistline and Aidan’s forest green sweater. I lifted the collar to my nose, inhaling the comforting scent of his Gucci cologne.

  The door to the bedroom quietly opened. Aidan stood in the doorframe and smiled. “Whatcha doing?”

  I dropped the collar of his sweater. “Nothing.”

  “Liar.” He strolled forward. “I was just coming to wake you up. They’re gone.”

  “Gone, gone?” I asked hopefully.

  He brushed a strand of wavy hair behind my ear. “No. I sent them to Veritas. Caleb is getting our parents hammered as we speak. They took Jasper so we could have some space.”

  “But the turkey—”

  “Mom gave me instructions how to baste, when to baste. Smells good, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded. “Don’t think I’ll be having any, though.”

  “Made you throw up, huh?”

  “Yep. Another food ruined.”

  He took my hand and led me out of the bedroom and into the quiet living room. Even Jasper was gone.

  “Really quiet apartment,” I stated. “Kind of weird.”

  “You hungry?”

  I nodded.

  “Your mother made some fruit salad before they left for the bar.”

  “Fruit sounds good.”

  “Sit. I’ll get it for you.”

  “Thanks.” I sank down in a chair at our six-person kitchen table. “How long did I sleep?”

  “Few hours. The moms prepped everything and then wrote down when things needed to go into the oven at what time.”

  “You mean I don’t have to make Thanksgiving dinner? Score.” I looked around the living room. “We don’t have enough space for everyone.”

  “Dad has a long folding table in the back of his truck. Seats twelve. I fended off the mothers for a while about the sonogram. Told them it was your thing to share.”

  “My thing? You mean, you left it up to me to tell everyone we’re having twins?”

  “You’re having twins?” Mrs. Nowacki asked, holding the key to our apartment in one hand and a baked good in the other.

  I stood up to relieve her of the pie.

  “Meat.” She gestured. “Not sweet.”

  “Looks good,” I told her. “And yes, we’re having twins.” She patted my cheek and smiled. I took her hand and squeezed it. “We haven’t told the parents yet. Our secret?”

  Mrs. Nowacki nodded. “I am good at secrets. I keep many secrets.”

  I raised my eyebrow. “What stories do you have tucked away inside you, Mrs. Nowacki?”

  “I tell you.” She grinned. “Maybe.”

  “Can I get you something to drink, Mrs. Nowacki?” Aidan asked as he came into the living room, holding a bowl of fruit salad. He handed it to me, and I took a bite immediately.

  “You have Krupnik?” Mrs. Nowacki asked.

  Aidan grinned. “Of
course we have Krupnik. We’ve been experimenting with a cocktail recipe using Krupnik as the base. Can I make it for you?”

  She nodded and took a seat on the couch. I missed Polish honey vodka. I actually missed all booze. And soft cheeses. But then I thought about what I was gaining. Definitely worth it.

  Before the parents were due back, I uploaded my apology video to Instagram. I debated on whether or not I should do it—I was still firmly in the camp of “I have a career to think about.” Sometimes we had to do things we didn’t want to do, or we’d suffer the consequences. It was kind of like going to the dentist. You went to the dentist, promised to floss more, and then conveniently forgot about it until the six-month mark rolled around.

  I had a point. Didn’t I?

  Right, adulthood. Sometimes you had to do things you didn’t want to do. This was one of them.

  “How long have they been at the bar?” I asked Aidan, setting my phone down. The screen immediately lit up with Instagram notifications. I turned the phone face down.

  “Few hours.”

  “They’re gonna come back sloppy!”

  “Probably. Your dad loves Caleb’s Brooklyn.”

  “I know.” At our wedding, Caleb had jumped behind the bar for a few and made his signature cocktail: The Brooklyn. Unlike a Manhattan which called for whiskey, a Brooklyn called for reposado tequila. By the end of our reception, our parents couldn’t walk straight.

  “What’s Thanksgiving without a little sloppiness?” Aidan added. He handed Mrs. Nowacki her cocktail and then sat down next to me. “You guys okay if I watch football?”

  Mrs. Nowacki took a sip of her drink and grinned. “I like. And yes, watch the football. I like the football.”

  “Oh yeah?” Aidan reached for the remote. “You have a favorite team?”

  “Detroit,” she said. “They have the best—” She patted the side of her rump and winked.

  “Oh my,” I muttered.

  “You’re in luck Mrs. Nowacki. The Lions are playing the Cowboys.” Just as the two of them were settling down to “watch” football, the buzzer buzzed.

  “Who is that?” Aidan asked.

  “Stacy and her boyfriend, I’d guess.” It was already two o’clock, and I’d told her to come by any time since I thought all I’d be doing was cooking.

  I pressed the intercom button. “Hello?”

  “It’s me!” Zeb called out. “And Terry!”

  I buzzed them in. “It’s Zeb and Terry.”

  “I thought they were going to some island for the holiday?”

  “Thought so too.” I opened the door. “I thought you guys were going away and couldn’t make it.”

  “There’s a hurricane in Costa Rica right now,” Terry said. He held up both hands full of grocery bags. “We’ve got wine.”

  “Is this okay?” Zeb asked. “Sorry to just show up—”

  “Theme for today,” I said, wrapping an arm around him. I looked at Aidan. “I’m glad your dad brought a big table.”

  “Your parents are here?” Zeb asked.

  “Yep,” I said. “And so are mine. They all showed up as a surprise.”

  “And where are they?” Terry wondered. “Because it’s a little quiet here.”

  “At Veritas,” Aidan said. “Having some pre-dinner cocktails.”

  “What did you bring?” I asked, peering into Zeb’s grocery bags. “Cheese. So much cheese.”

  “Oh shit,” he said, face falling. “You can’t have cheese.”

  “Or wine,” Terry added. “God, we’re the worst party crashers ever.”

  I laughed. “You’re not. You’re never crashing. And I can have hard cheeses.”

  “I got a few of those,” Zeb said.

  “Take off your coats, get comfortable,” I said, taking the grocery bags from them. Aidan got up, eyes still glued to the TV as he went to get two chairs from around the kitchen table.

  “Zeb, Terry, this is our next door neighbor, Mrs. Nowacki.”

  “Both so good looking,” Mrs. Nowacki said, her cheeks rosy from the Krupnik cocktail.

  Zeb plopped down next to Mrs. Nowacki. “Hi, new best friend.”

  “You’re so shallow,” Terry said with an amused smile.

  “Uh, you were the one who took the longest getting ready this morning.”

  Terry gestured to his perfectly styled hair. “It takes effort to look this good.”

  “Some of us come by it more naturally,” Zeb stated, tone dry.

  Terry blew him a kiss.

  “Quit it. I’m not allowed to have a lot of sugar,” I teased. Terry and Zeb were too cute. They’d met eight months ago in the ethnic food section at Dean & DeLuca. It was the perfect gay meet cute. Though they didn’t technically live together, they spent every night together. No doubt I’d be going to a spring wedding.

  “Oh, my God, I totally forgot—congratulations! Twins?! That’s so exciting!” Terry gushed.

  I put my hands to my belly. “Yup, frying up two Pierogis in here.”

  “Pierogis? Who has pierogis?” Mrs. Nowacki interjected.

  I tried to explain to her the American culture of nicknames for fetuses while in utero. I wasn’t sure she understood. It might’ve been the language barrier. It might’ve been the alcohol.

  “Where’s your cheese plate?” Terry asked, standing up.

  “Uh, try the cabinet over the fridge,” I said.

  “Ah, the place where you put all the crap you hardly use but never want to get rid of,” Terry said with a nod. “Zeb’s got one of those.”

  “I need all those cheesecake pans,” Zeb defended.

  “One in each size?” Terry said. “You’re gonna have to downsize when we move in together.”

  “You’re moving in together?” Aidan asked, finally pulling his eyes away from the TV.

  I raised my eyebrows. “Did you just follow that entire conversation while watching football? I’m impressed.”

  He put his hand on my thigh and squeezed. “Now who’s too adorable?” Zeb wondered. “And yeah. We’re shooting for April. My lease is over then.”

  “Anyone mind if I open some of this wine?” Terry asked.

  Stacy and her boyfriend Joe showed up not thirty minutes later, adding to the growing pile of liquor. Joe was a musician who wore all black. His ears were pierced, and Mrs. Nowacki took it upon herself to examine the ink on his arms. While Joe was occupied and Aidan played bartender, Stacy pulled me aside.

  “Saw your video.”

  “Yeah, I posted it about an hour ago.” She nodded and bit her lip. “What? What is it?”

  “I sent you the entire video, Sibby.”

  “I know.”

  She shook her head. “You didn’t watch the whole thing.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I mean, I never stopped recording like I thought I did. And it recorded the part where you said you didn’t really want to apologize. And you didn’t trim off the part where you thought you weren’t being recorded.”

  I felt my face drain of color. “You mean—”

  “Yeah, Sibby, you just told everyone where to stick it.”

  Chapter 33

  #breakingtheinternet #zenthefuckout

  “I shouldn’t be allowed around technology,” I said. “Or people. I shouldn’t be allowed to talk to people.”

  “Have you”—she swallowed—“checked your phone?”

  I shook my head. “I posted, and then it blew up, so I set it aside.”

  “You’re getting some nasty comments.”

  “Sometimes, I wish you weren’t such a straight shooter.”

  “You didn’t let me finish. You’re getting a lot of support, too.”

  “Oh. Well, that’s good.” I pressed a hand to my forehead. “How do I diffuse this?”

  “For the love of God, just do nothing,” she said. “Let it run its course, and don’t add more fuel to the fire.”

  “I think I already threw on kerosene,” I muttered.

&nbs
p; “It’s turned into a raging inferno.”

  “Me posting an unedited video of me is a prime example of Sibby’s Law. It’s bound to happen. It’s what I do. But you know what?” I asked, channeling my inner Rocky. “This is all gonna be okay.”

  “Yeah? How do you figure?”

  “I could take it down, but that would do more harm. So there’s nothing to do but enjoy Thanksgiving and let it go.”

  “Wow, your chi must be in major alignment because I’d be freaking out.”

  I shrugged. Let the zen begin.

  “Thanksgiving selfie time?” she asked. She lifted her phone, and we made stupid kissy faces at the screen. “I’ll tag you.”

  I gave her a thumbs up. We headed back into the living room. Joe and Aidan were absorbed in the football game, and Zeb and Terry were playing cards with Mrs. Nowacki. Hope they’d brought cash.

  The timer on the oven dinged, and I went to check the turkey. I gave it a nice baste and closed the oven door, not wanting too much heat to escape.

  “I thought we were having turkey sandwiches and a bunch of sides,” Stacy said, sipping on a Krupnik cocktail.

  I reset the oven timer. “Change of plans. My parents showed up. So did Aidan’s.”

  “Unannounced?”

  “Yup.”

  “Wow.”

  “They’re grandbaby hungry,” I explained. “So I’m sorry if the conversation turns into baby stuff.”

  She waved a hand. “All okay.”

  I was ready for the parents to come back. Sitting on this twin news was driving me batty. I was fairly certain once I delivered the news, my mother would faint. And then when she woke up, she would probably attach herself to my body, barnacle style.

  “Hello? Sibby?” Stacy waved her hand in my face.

  I shook my head. “Sorry. I was fast-forwarding my life by a decade and got lost.”

  “Come back to the present…come back to the present,” she teased, her voice sounding like a cheesy hypnotist.

  “The present. Right. Aidan!” I called.