does that even mean?” Mom reached for another bite of cake. “Doesn’t he plan to attend his own wedding?”
Oh, great. Here we go. The exact topic of conversation I wanted to avoid.
Nadia raised her eyebrows, her eyes never leaving mine. “Good question, Mom. Tell us about that, Cass.”
She beamed at me, triumphant, and I let out a long breath and inwardly counted to ten so I didn’t steal my sister’s cheesecake (her second piece!) out of revenge.
“You know… Ah…” How to explain the phenomenon—or lack thereof—of no-labels-Peter to my mom? “I don’t think the marriage thing is really”—absolutely ever, in a million years—“in the cards for us.”
I shrugged at Mom, hoping against hope this would be the end of it. After all, Nadia so nicely took the pressure off me to have grandkids, not that Mom hadn’t dropped a hint or two that she’d like me to consider a family sometime soon.
Mom looked puzzled as she slowly put down her fork.
“Huh,” she mused aloud. “You’ve been seeing each other for two years. You should know if he’s the one, or at least potentially…”
Yes, but that was actually the beauty of Peter. He allowed me to avoid thinking about The One. I didn’t have to worry about whether he measured up to Dad, whether I’d ever have what my parents did. This way, I could cruise along with Peter and be comfortable in my avoidance zone.
Mom read my face like a postcard. She grew alarmed and put her hand over her heart.
“Do you even want to get married?” Mom’s fear sat plainly on her face. I knew why: her marriage to my dad was one of the greatest achievements of her life. I mean, yes, she had a tidy career as a realtor, and she was very proud of being a mom to us, but when she talked about Dad, even now, her face glowed with a certain kind of joy. I knew she wanted that for me.
I couldn’t tell her I’d spent most of my adult life avoiding the whole idea of marriage and whether I could ever be as happy as my parents had been.
“Of course I want to get married,” I reassured Mom, patting her hand. She let out a little sigh of relief, and the fear dissolved.
Nadia dropped her fork on her now clean plate. “You know, I was watching something about this very thing on TV the other day and I realize what your problem is…”
Uh…excuse me? “I didn’t know I had a problem.” Going out with Peter is my choice, I wanted to shout. He’s comfortable, and he doesn’t pressure me, and he does his thing, and I do mine. It’s kind of perfect.
“Exactly.” Nadia’s face brightened. “The first step is admitting you have a problem.”
I frowned at her. “But I’d have to know what my problem is before I can fix that problem.” Right now, my problem might be a big sister who was butting in where her opinion wasn’t wanted. I glared at her, and she glared back.
“Okay!” Mom cried, breaking up the tension. “You guys are talking in circles. Nadia, please explain.”
“Cass,” Nadia said, straightening a bit in her seat like she did before every big sister lecture. “You tend to go after the same kind of guy. You pick someone you think you can change or mold into what you want, but you can’t, because it’s not the man. It’s you.”
This all sounded far too familiar. “Wait a minute,” I said. “I saw that. You’re quoting…Dr. Susie?”
Nadia nodded, her enthusiasm not waning. “I am, and she’s right. You have a history of picking the noncommittal guys. The kind of guys who never have any intention of committing long-term.”
What’s wrong with that? I wanted to ask. Besides, they weren’t all noncommittal, raging jerk-faces.
“Don’t get me wrong,” Nadia continued. “They’re all nice guys—Peter, Jamie, Jack…”
“What about Scott? Scott from college. He was…” Sweet, loyal. He always talked about a big house and white picket fence in the suburbs. About getting married and having kids… Then, I remembered he wasn’t so loyal after all. He’d cheated on me with one of my sorority sisters. Hmm. Okay, bad example. I looked up to see Mom and Nadia exchanging knowing glances, clearly remembering that awful spring break.
“Oh…you’re right. I do pick the wrong guys,” I admitted now, realizing that as I flipped back through all my ex-boyfriends, they were all…actually… Well, more or less, jerk-faces. None of them had been truly serious about me or the future. “How did I not realize that until right now?”
I didn’t know what was worse: that I might have terrible taste in men or that Nadia actually had been right about me and might tell me I told you so for the rest of my life. She smiled at me now, though, her expression soft.
“Because you’re competitive,” she said in a loving way that made me instantly forgive her. I knew she just wanted to look out for me. “You like a challenge.”
“Peter is a great guy.” I didn’t sound very convincing to my own ears.
“And very easy on the eyes,” Nadia said, implying that I might have picked him only for his looks. Had I? When I thought about Peter’s good qualities, why did I keep thinking of that strong chin and those stark blue eyes? “And you have nothing in common, and—”
We did have things in common. We… Well, we both liked chicken wings.
Uh-oh. Was that it? That and the fact that we both liked how Peter looked? He spent enough grooming time in front of the mirror for me to know he spent ample time admiring himself.
“He wouldn’t even go to a wedding with you,” Mom said.
“He hasn’t even met Mom yet.”
“He hasn’t even met me,” Mom reiterated. I glanced at her, sheepish. Right. He hadn’t. He didn’t want to meet Mom, but…part of me didn’t want him to meet Mom, either. I hadn’t exactly been pushing for the two to get together. Why was that? Because I knew Mom wouldn’t approve, that’s why. Just like Nadia didn’t approve.
“You’re saying he’s never going to commit?” I asked them both. “Are you saying…I should break up with him?”
Both Nadia and Mom squirmed in their chairs. They totally wanted me to dump him, but neither would say it out loud.
“What we’re saying, dear,” Mom began, “is that we want you to be happy.” The way she looked at me now implied she thought I wasn’t happy. But I liked my uncomplicated, not-labeled life with Peter. Didn’t I?
“And to be happy,” Nadia said, “you have to change the kind of guy you date.”
“Right.” I sucked in a breath.
“That seems simple, right?” Mom asked Nadia, and the two of them nodded vigorously. Right, simple. Just like that.
I took a sip of my lukewarm coffee. Why did I think nothing about this so-called strategy would be simple?
Five
