Perry
Perry Goodwin rang his parents’ doorbell and inspected the high polish on his shoes. It was his grandmother Elsie’s ninety-seventh birthday, and in lieu of putting her in a nursing home they were throwing her a party.
Already he could hear the thrum of voices inside. But no one came to the door.
Perry did not like crowds. He most certainly did not like parties. He barely liked his family, if he were to be honest. They were just so… unshakably themselves. But he adored his grandmother Elsie. And the rest of them needed him, so here he was. He checked his watch. “Be on time!” his mother, Jane, had said in her falsetto hosting voice when she’d called. Which was almost an offense, really, because Perry was never late. Take now, for instance. He was still three minutes early, and yet his punctuality would go unnoticed because no one was there to let him in.
If his wife, Amelia, had been with him, she would’ve already pushed the door open. Amelia was like that. But she was not here, and so Perry rang the bell again and waited. Finally, the door swung open.
“What are you doing standing out here like a stray?” His younger sister, Phoebe, grabbed his wrist and tugged him inside. “You were supposed to rescue me. Everyone’s here.”
“Not everyone,” he said, removing his coat. “Amelia is picking up Emma at school. And besides, the party just started.” Phoebe could be so dramatic.
But she was not listening. She was suddenly distracted by her reflection in the hall mirror and had begun raking her hands through her hair in some attempt to change it. “So, did you hear about Jake’s new girl?”
Perry glanced across the marble foyer at the ripple of gray-haired guests overflowing from the living room. It figured. The elderly were always early. He scoured the crowd, hoping that his parents’ neighbor Eugene Banks was not in attendance. Mr. Banks had the distasteful practice of cornering Perry at family parties, clapping him loudly on the back and asking him how much he’d earned in the past year as a car insurance agent. Perry was a risk analyst for one of New York’s premier entertainment firms. He did not insure cars. He most certainly did not discuss personal finances.
Phoebe gave up on her hair and spun around. “We finally get to lay eyes on her. She’s coming to the party!”
Perry followed the brisk swish of his sister’s yellow skirt into the crowded living room. “Who’s coming?”
Phoebe glared at him over her shoulder. “I just told you. Jake’s new girl.”
Perry was about to ask if this new girl of their younger brother’s had a name, but he was suddenly clapped on the back. “Perry!” He cringed. Thankfully, it was only his father, Edward, his eyes glimmering with pleasure. “Good to see you, son.”
Perry let himself be pulled into a hug. If overly demonstrative, his father was the most reasonable member of the family. “Looks like quite a party. How’s Nana doing?”
Edward indicated across the room where Elsie was neatly folded into a damask wingback by the window. “Holding court.”
Indeed, his grandmother looked pleased. Her eyes traveled about the room locking every now and then on her twin great-grandsons, Jed and Patrick, who galloped through the sea of trouser pants and skirts with confections in hand.
Spying Perry, they headed straight for him, pushing and shoving to get to their uncle first. Phoebe’s sons were a handful, but Perry adored them. “Who got into the sweets already?” he asked, as Jed leapt up to be held. Perry held him a safe distance away from his white dress shirt and inspected the boy’s chocolate-dotted lips. The four-year-old still clutched a half-eaten cookie, and once ensconced in the safety of his uncle’s arms he leaned down and swiped at his brother’s hair with his free hand. Below, Patrick yelped. “Grandma said we could.”
Edward shook his head. “Of course she did. Now come with me, I think we should wash those hands.” Perry set Jed down and watched him and his brother reluctantly trail their grandfather to the bathroom. Meanwhile their parents were on the opposite side of the room chatting and laughing with guests, champagne in hand, completely checked out. Why not, when everyone else in the family could watch your kids?
Perry helped himself to a cup of punch and made his way through the crowd to Elsie. “Happy birthday, Nana.” He leaned down and kissed her cheek.
“Oh, Perry my love,” she said softly, her voice barely a whisper. “Look how handsome.”
As eldest, Perry had always felt a special bond with his grandmother. He had been the first grandchild, and as such she’d fussed over him. Since his grandfather had passed away last year, she’d come to live with Perry’s parents, a move that both heartened and concerned him. The house was hardly suitable for a ninety-seven-year-old. There were steep stairs and laquered wooden floors. He also worried about the toll on his parents for having to care for Elsie. Just as it pained Perry now to feel the tremor in her fingers as she pressed a hand lovingly to his cheek.
“Are you enjoying your big day?” he asked.
“It’s just another year,” she said. Elsie glanced up at him, her cloudy blue eyes searching his own. Perry felt something inside him shift. Growing old had begun to frighten him.
“Pray tell, where is that bony wife of yours?” his grandmother asked.
Perry was used to this commentary, and yet he still flinched. Amelia was thin, but he liked to think elegantly so. His grandmother did not share that sentiment.
“Now, Nana. Amelia might be hurt if she was here to hear that.”
“But she’s not. That’s the risk of arriving late to a party—you’ll find yourself the topic of conversation.” She shrugged, a mischievous smile fluttering across the soft folds of her face. “What is that you’re drinking, dear?” she gestured to his cup.
“Punch.”
Elsie frowned. “Virgin?”
“I believe so. Would you like some?”
She pursed her lips. “What I’d like is a little bourbon.”
Perry glanced at the bar cart across the room. “I thought your medications weren’t to be mixed with alcohol.”
Elsie pointed in the direction of the cart. “Double finger, dear.”
“But Nana.”
Elsie placed her hand on his own and squeezed. “Perry, my love. You must learn to have some fun. Or at least allow the rest of us.”
Perry sighed. “Be right back.”
Phoebe found him at the bar cart. “We need to talk.”
“In just a minute. Nana insists I get her a bourbon.” He shook his head. “I guess one won’t hurt.”
Phoebe laughed. “One? That’s at least her second. She made Dad fetch her one earlier.”
Perry set the bottle down. “That minx.”
“Relax.” Phoebe took the glass from him and resumed the pour. “How many ninety-seventh birthdays does one get?”
Perry watched her march off in the direction of the birthday girl with the drink in question. “There won’t be a ninety-eighth if she keeps it up,” he called after her.
Amelia and Emma had still not arrived. When he finally made it to the punch bowl, it was empty. He lugged it into the kitchen.
“There you are!” His mother, Jane, stood at the counter scraping something dry and blackened off of a tray and into the farmhouse sink.