Whenever Aunt Lisa came to visit, mother would meet her at the front door and quickly invite her inside. The two of them would stand in the entryway: laughing and crying, hugging, and jumping up and down, as if they hadn't seen each other for decades. It was kind of embarrassing to watch, but whenever I mentioned that to either of them they would tell me that I was just jealous.
After they had said their hellos, and wiped their tears, they would head into the kitchen where mom would pop open the oldest bottle of wine from the rack in the cellar and pour it into two glasses. They would talk fast and laugh loudly, leaning forward with their elbows on the island and their butts barely touching the stools they were sitting on as if there were a time limit on everything they needed to say.
Most of it was just about work. The typical, he said, she said, nonsense that women can go on and on for hours about without ever seeming to run out of things to say. I still forced myself to listen in because it was exciting to watch how after all these years the two of them were still so stoked to bash other people for not being perfect.
If I was jealous of anything it was that I didn't have a sibling or close friend to share that type of intimacy with. Someone who would cling to every single word I said and to crave my attention as if it were the very reason for life itself. I had come to believe that even if Mom and Aunt Lisa were separated for decades they would be able to just fall right back into it all without missing a single beat.
After their time in the kitchen they would pop open another bottle and head into the living room where they would finish talking about fashion, famous people, or their favorite new style of SUV. When they were tired of talking they would put on music to dance to or they would just snuggle up and watch movies on the black leather sectional. Mom was into country and rom-coms. Lisa was into metal and horror. As different as they were they always seemed to find things that they both liked.
Then they would get into their pajamas, Aunt Lisa had a drawer in mom's dresser in the bathroom, and head to Mom's bedroom. They would sit on the bed, usually talking about guys they had a crush on, then they'd go to sleep.
This time when Lisa came over, I answered the door. She was wearing a short, pleaded skirt, an Iron Maiden shirt cut to show off her: fit midriff, biceps, ample cleavage; and she was holding a bottle of sparkling apple cider in both of her hands. "Oh, it's you," I said.
"Who is it?" Mom asked, from the kitchen, but then came sprinting past me. "Sis!"
She wrapped her arms around Lisa and started the normal jumping and laughing, but it didn't go quite as expected. "Get some glasses." Lisa said, pushing past her and heading into the kitchen, a serious look on her face.
"I have wine," Mom said, wrapping her fingers around the handle of the cellar door. "A burgundy from 2017."
"I'm trying to cut back," Lisa responded, pulling up her stool and staring at the bottle of cider as if it were a crystal ball. "I think it's time to start considering my future."
"I think you've lost your mind," Mom said, clomping down the stairs into the cellar to grab the burgundy for herself.
I wanted to go in and grab a glass out of the cupboard and hand it to Lisa. I wanted to gaze into her eyes and tell her that I missed her, but I decided not to. It was better to remain out of sight, on the fringe, hanging out in the living room or my bedroom pretending to be playing games or listening to music if I wanted to be able to eavesdrop on their conversations. Today sounded like it was going to be a good one.
When Mom came back up, she popped the top on the bottle, grabbed two glasses, and filled hers with a light colored liquid. Lisa twisted the cap on her bottle and began to pour herself a glass of cider. "That's not a burgundy," she snapped at Mom.
"Obvi," Mom responded. "I'm saving that one for when you come back to your senses and we can enjoy it together like normal people. Maybe I'll even go get some of that good goat cheese from the farmers market and we can sit around with a box of baked crackers and talk about how ridiculous you are being right now."
There was a moment of silence between them, both of them standing there awkwardly holding their drinks without saying anything. It was something I was very surprised to experience. The cheer and frenzied excitement that they normally shared when they got to see each other, just wasn't there this time. It wasn't any less awkward then if someone had released a balloon into the room, and let it fly, squealing through the air, and zooming around in every different direction before exhausting itself and landing on the floor.
"I joined a gym," Lisa said, sitting up on her stool, back straight, voice low. "I think it's time to get this ass in shape," then pausing and circling the rim of her glass with the tip of her finger. "I get to bring a friend for free. You should come with me."
Mom took a slow sip of her wine, then burst into quiet laughter, her blue eyes glowing as she tucked a strand of blonde hair behind her ear. "I haven't been to a gym in years. Probably since before Zander was born." She said.
If you didn't know them, it would be hard to guess that they were both pushing forty. They were thin and trim, with smooth skin, and not a hint of gray in their hair. Although I wouldn't be surprised if they got some help from a bottle for that.
Lisa was the cool aunt who had gotten me cigarettes because I couldn't buy them myself. She was the rebel who kept everyone guessing with a sweet mischievous charm. Mom was the girl next door, the perfect little homemaker, who was always concerned with what other people thought about her. They both carried themselves with the elegance and grace of someone who had a lifelong friend they could always depend on.
"Tomorrow we are going to go shopping," Lisa said. "Get that sexy little ass some workout clothes and shoes."
"All you're doing is making me want to get even more drunk," Mom said, her lips stretched out in a smile. "Although, that sexy little ass could definitely use some squats."
And just like that they were almost back to their normal selves. Aunt Lisa was drinking cider, but she definitely smelled like she'd been puffing on something a little bit skunky when I met her at the door. They were smiling and happy and that's all that mattered to me even though I was excluded from their fun, little, girls nights.
