Crazy People: The Crazy for You Stories by Jennifer Crusie
Authors: Jennifer Crusie
Tags: FICTION / Short Stories
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divorce and then a quickie marriage (my mother had to lie down at that part) and now she was really, truly happy.
Right.
I tried to talk her into letting me get her an annulment right away. Any fool who looked at Cam knew he was worthless, but all Steph could see was the romance. That was fine when all Steph was screwing up was herself, but she had a kid now.
My niece Jess is great.
In fact, the only good thing about Steph’s elopement was that I got to spend every evening of the entire two weeks with Jess who was only two at the time and who was a little freaked out that her mother had disappeared. Steph and David had tried to raise the kid to be another Stepford bride, but I saved her. Steph used to read her crap like Cinderella, and Jess would point to the pictures and say “’Rella” and “p’ince,” and Steph would tell her how cute she was. By the time Steph got back from Mexico, Jess was pointing and saying “loser” and “wimp.” Steph was not amused, but I pointed out that a mother who deserts her child to elope to Mexico wasn’t much of a role model, either. I was already in trouble with Steph because when she had introduced Jess to Cam, his unfortunate resemblance to the Disney prince made Jess point at him and say, “Wimp.” My mother said, “She’s just like her Aunt Caroline,” and I looked at this kid who had Steph’s face and my mouth and said, “Behold the master race.”
My father laughed until he choked, but Steph didn’t.
I also pointed out to Steph that her Mexican divorce was illegal, which is when I started pushing for the annulment, but it turned out to be not much of a problem because Cam did not last the year. Stephanie said she fell in love with him because he was deep and free-spirited. She stopped speaking to me for a week after the memorable family dinner at which Cam passed out with his head in the lasagna, and I felt behooved to mention that deep was not the same as brain dead, which was what chemical substances had evidently rendered Cam. Fortunately, shortly after that, Stephanie saw the light, and Cam saw the door, and Steph was 0 for 3: 1967, 1971, and 1976. Steph came close to trying it again several times in the seven years after her divorce from Cam (which I handled brilliantly, I must say; I may suck as a sister but I’m a great lawyer), but every time she brought somebody home as a candidate, my father would say, “Look at that tie,” and I’d say, “Boring,” and Jess would say, “Wimp,” and she’d drop him and start over.
Then a couple of months ago, she brought home Paul, and my father said, “Look at that tie,” and I said, “Boring,” but Jess said, “I like him,” and so here we go again, up to our butts in chiffon, cake, and colored punch.
Of course, Steph being Steph, Cam is, as my father says, forgotten but not gone. That’s him over there by the buffet, moving across the stuffed mushrooms like a locust. And yes, you’re right, that’s Andy hitting on Darla the bridesmaid again (and that’s Darla’s husband Max about to put Andy’s head in the punch), and there’s David boring the caterer. My sister is not the type to hold a grudge. Or, as far as I can tell, a memory. As my father says, all of Steph’s ex-husbands should be grateful to her because for most of them, her weddings provide their only social outlet.
I have plenty of social outlets. Lawyers are supposed to schmooze, and since I’m the hottest thing in my firm, I schmooze like nobody else, but my real social life is Scott. He is the only successful relationship I’ve ever had with a male, not counting my father, which is not to say that I haven’t had relationships. Oh, God, let me count the ways. But at least I don’t
marry
the sociopaths I sleep with. Unlike Steph, I have some standards.
Which is why I’m on the sidelines of another in a series of weddings brought to you by my sister, designed by my mother, and paid for by a grant from my father. When he
Right.
I tried to talk her into letting me get her an annulment right away. Any fool who looked at Cam knew he was worthless, but all Steph could see was the romance. That was fine when all Steph was screwing up was herself, but she had a kid now.
My niece Jess is great.
In fact, the only good thing about Steph’s elopement was that I got to spend every evening of the entire two weeks with Jess who was only two at the time and who was a little freaked out that her mother had disappeared. Steph and David had tried to raise the kid to be another Stepford bride, but I saved her. Steph used to read her crap like Cinderella, and Jess would point to the pictures and say “’Rella” and “p’ince,” and Steph would tell her how cute she was. By the time Steph got back from Mexico, Jess was pointing and saying “loser” and “wimp.” Steph was not amused, but I pointed out that a mother who deserts her child to elope to Mexico wasn’t much of a role model, either. I was already in trouble with Steph because when she had introduced Jess to Cam, his unfortunate resemblance to the Disney prince made Jess point at him and say, “Wimp.” My mother said, “She’s just like her Aunt Caroline,” and I looked at this kid who had Steph’s face and my mouth and said, “Behold the master race.”
My father laughed until he choked, but Steph didn’t.
I also pointed out to Steph that her Mexican divorce was illegal, which is when I started pushing for the annulment, but it turned out to be not much of a problem because Cam did not last the year. Stephanie said she fell in love with him because he was deep and free-spirited. She stopped speaking to me for a week after the memorable family dinner at which Cam passed out with his head in the lasagna, and I felt behooved to mention that deep was not the same as brain dead, which was what chemical substances had evidently rendered Cam. Fortunately, shortly after that, Stephanie saw the light, and Cam saw the door, and Steph was 0 for 3: 1967, 1971, and 1976. Steph came close to trying it again several times in the seven years after her divorce from Cam (which I handled brilliantly, I must say; I may suck as a sister but I’m a great lawyer), but every time she brought somebody home as a candidate, my father would say, “Look at that tie,” and I’d say, “Boring,” and Jess would say, “Wimp,” and she’d drop him and start over.
Then a couple of months ago, she brought home Paul, and my father said, “Look at that tie,” and I said, “Boring,” but Jess said, “I like him,” and so here we go again, up to our butts in chiffon, cake, and colored punch.
Of course, Steph being Steph, Cam is, as my father says, forgotten but not gone. That’s him over there by the buffet, moving across the stuffed mushrooms like a locust. And yes, you’re right, that’s Andy hitting on Darla the bridesmaid again (and that’s Darla’s husband Max about to put Andy’s head in the punch), and there’s David boring the caterer. My sister is not the type to hold a grudge. Or, as far as I can tell, a memory. As my father says, all of Steph’s ex-husbands should be grateful to her because for most of them, her weddings provide their only social outlet.
I have plenty of social outlets. Lawyers are supposed to schmooze, and since I’m the hottest thing in my firm, I schmooze like nobody else, but my real social life is Scott. He is the only successful relationship I’ve ever had with a male, not counting my father, which is not to say that I haven’t had relationships. Oh, God, let me count the ways. But at least I don’t
marry
the sociopaths I sleep with. Unlike Steph, I have some standards.
Which is why I’m on the sidelines of another in a series of weddings brought to you by my sister, designed by my mother, and paid for by a grant from my father. When he
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