Page 90 of Pity Pact
Tim is right behind us. We station ourselves by the wall next to the buffet and watch as new couples begin to form on the designated dance floor. There’s an aura of stilted excitement in the air.
The music ranges from nineteen forties swing dancing all the way to the Macarena. All the singles not dancing—except for the three of us—stand on the sidelines and cheer on the participants. Meanwhile, I have a strange sensation the floor is going to open up and we’re all going to be floating in outer space. Who needs drugs when you’ve gotMidwestern Matchmaker?
Eight songs later, Carl, from the original cast, and Linnie, from the new group, are crowned the winners. Trina declares, “You’ve each won a thousand-dollar Visa gift card!” Cheers resonate from the crowd.
“What are they going to do next?” Tim wonders, “Tie us together for a three-legged race?”
Cami laughs. “My money’s on mud wrestling.”
“Why not just go straight to tackle football and be done with it?” I joke. “That way they could wean down the group by breaking real bones.”
“I don’t know what’s coming next,” Tim says, “but I can guarantee we won’t like it.”
And while I hope to God his words aren’t prophetic, I have a strong sense they probably are.
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
TIM
Trina bald-faced lied to me last night when she said the producers told her Decker had been injured. There’s no way she didn’t know the truth, and her betrayal fuels an anger in me the likes of which I haven’t felt since Eva left.
My parents are still eating when I walk into the dining room. As I sit down, I irritably ask, “Why don’t we eat in the kitchen like normal people?”
My mom gasps audibly. “What bug crawled upyourbutt today?”
Instead of telling her, I say, “It would be easier to eat at the kitchen table.”
“It’s very civilized to eat in the dining room,” she says like she’s channeling Maggie Smith fromDownton Abbey. This has been her line ever since she watched the first season.
Changing the subject, my dad wants to know, “How was the mixer last night?”
“Horrible,” I grumble. “They’re switching things up a lot.”
My parents share a curious look before my dad asks, “Like what?”
“I don’t know—games, stupid competitions. It’s almost like it’s a different show entirely.”
“I think it sounds like fun,” my mom decides. “I’ve watchedMidwestern Matchmakerbefore and while it’s cute, it’s always been a little dull.”
“Why haveyouwatched it?” I want to know. “It doesn’t seem like your kind of thing at all.” I cite herMasterpiece Theateraddiction.
“I tuned in the first time after Eva left,” my mom confesses. “I so enjoyed helping Jonathon and Jacob get together, I thought I might learn something to help you find your next wife.”
Of course she did.“Mom, please stop interfering. I promise I’ll find somebody on my own, and she will be a much better fit than Eva ever was.” I’m obviously thinking about Paige, and while my mom will do backflips if things work out between the two of us, it’s still early days. That’s the reason I don’t tell her anything.
“I’m going into the club today,” my dad announces.
“Why?” I’d rather he do anything else … fly to the moon, climb an active volcano, organize my sock drawer …
“I want to see how everything’s going.”
“I’ll come with you,” my mom says enthusiastically.
A premonition of doom washes over me. I’m already on the outs with Trina, along with everyone else fromMidwestern Matchmaker. The last thing I need is for my parents to get involved and make things even more uncomfortable. “I don’t think either of you should go in today.”Or ever,at least until the show is done filming.
My dad puts another spoonful of scrambled eggs on his plate. “It’s a good thing you’re not my boss then.” The implication is clear. He has seniority over me, so he’ll do whatever he wants to do. My mother looks equally determined.
“Do whatever you want,” I tell them. I proceed to eat the rest of the meal without poking the bear, or bears, in this case. It’s not bad enough I’m in a fictitious love triangle with Cami and Paige,but the show producers are clearly playing games with us, and now my parents want in on the action, too.