Abby had been trying to plan a huge celebration for Emma’s 30th birthday for a year now. Ever since Emma had made a comment at her 29th birthday about issuing in her “last year of youth,” Abby had been determined to make Emma’s 30th so fun and exciting that she would have to give in to the spirit of celebration. Starting in January, Abby had been dropping hints and making suggestions, while being promptly rebuffed at every turn. Emma was determined—she did NOT want to be the center of attention at some grande-fete, to feel on display, paraded about in front of everyone. Above all things in life, Emma hated to feel on display. However, she also hated to appear ungracious or seem ungrateful, and Abby clearly had her heart set on showing her affection through some lavish gesture. So, in March, they reached a compromise. Emma insisted that she wanted nothing more than to run away and hide when she turned 30, but she condescended to taking a few people with her. They had been planning a reunion of their closest college friends for some time, so they decided to combine the two events.
Abby had found a family within her church who owned a mountain “cabin” with air conditioning, and a lake. They agreed to let Abby borrow it for a long weekend, free of charge. Abby was always coming up with great connections like this as a result of working as the activities organizer for her church. As soon as the dates were confirmed, she called the other girls, and the reunion plans began. In addition to Lauryn and Caitlin, their close-knit group of college sisters included Mary Grace, Janna, and Stacey. All the girls had been hallmates their freshman year of college, except Stacey who was a year younger. Their senior year, the girls had all moved into neighboring apartments in off-campus housing, and Abby and Emma had managed to get Stacey permission to move in with them, even though she wasn’t a senior yet. Although half the group landed in Atlanta and saw each other once a month at Abby’s family dinners, the whole gang had not been together in years. They had occasionally seen each other at the weddings, but there wasn’t much time to relax and catch up in the midst of a big event. So, they were all looking forward to some real girl time that coming weekend—especially as most of them were leaving spouses and/or children behind.
Lauryn and Caitlin drove up Thursday night, after getting the keys from Abby, in order to get all the beds made, towels laid out, and groceries bought. Mary Grace drove down from Lexington to Chattanooga Thursday night, where she stayed with Janna. They had picked Stacey up from the airport that morning and then driven straight to the cabin. Everyone else had arrived at the cabin before lunch, but Abby had to drive Jackson to a follow-up doctor’s appointment that morning. So, she and Emma weren’t scheduled to set off until noon, which would put them at the cabin around 2 p.m. Abby pulled into Emma’s driveway around 12:15 with Jackson’s large suburban. Emma rolled her suitcase out and locked the door behind her, anxious to not waste any time getting to their destination. As Abby opened the back gate of the suburban, Emma saw that their 2 suitcases were only going to take up about ¼ of the space. Emma rolled her eyes as she closed the back gate.
“This is ridiculous. I still say we should take my car and drop the suburban off at your house,” she repeated for the 3rd time in 2 days. “It would be much more fuel efficient.”
Abby replied calmly, ignoring Emma’s somewhat superior tone. “I wouldn’t dream of letting you drive to your own birthday weekend.”
“Fine, then you can drive my car and we’ll leave the suburban here. It’s gotta be a crime against creation or something to use the gas that this behemoth needs to transport two, small suitcases.”
“No. Jackson insisted that I take the suburban. He feels safer knowing I’m in a large vehicle with four-wheel drive,” Abby explained as she turned too wide while backing out of the driveway and bumped the recycling bin across the street.
“Has he seen you drive it?” Emma mumbled under her breath. “Look, feeling safe and being safe are two different things sometimes. We could just let him think we took the suburban and leave it in my garage. No one would be the wiser.”
“Relax. I’m fine as long as I’m going forward, and I’ll remember the rest after like half an hour.”
Emma said a silent prayer for safety and resolved not to be a “backseat driver” for the hour and a half trip. She would have to work consciously on controlling her facial expressions so as not to betray her uneasiness. She and Abby shared memories of college during the drive and talked about how quickly time flies. Since college, five of the seven girls had gotten married, and four of them had children—all boys.
Stacey was the only other single left. She had moved to St. Louis to start a successful career in corporate sales and client services, while Emma had been earning her master’s degree in school counseling. Once or twice a year, Stacey would fly into Atlanta on her way to annual business conferences. She would always try to layover for a day or two on the way back to St. Louis, so she could visit and stay with Emma, but these were the only times they got to see one another. Emma was looking forward to seeing Janna and Mary Grace, but she especially hoped to get some one-on-one time with
Stacey. This anticipation made her more annoyed at arriving so much later than everyone else. But, despite her anxious anticipation, they made good time and arrived at 1:40.
Lauryn and Caitlin came out the front door in summer dresses to greet Abby and Emma as they pulled up to the cabin. They each grabbed a suitcase and whisked Abby and Emma upstairs into the master bedroom before Emma had been able to take in even the front foyer.
“Hey, where’s everyone else?” she protested. “We can get settled later. I want to see everyone!”
“They’re all downstairs waiting,” Caitlin replied without making eye contact. “Y’all go ahead and change, and we’ll meet you in the living room.” At this, she and Lauryn withdrew, pulling the door closed behind them. Emma’s suspicion was more than aroused by this strange welcome.
“Change? What are they talking about? Who’s the ‘all’ that are downstairs waiting? So help me, if you put together a huge surprise party after I expressly told you not to, I am going to steal Jackson’s stupid suburban and drive home right now.” Abby didn’t look at Emma as she unzipped her suitcase. She knew that Emma would be giving her the dark stare—eyes narrowed to piercing slits, mouth eerily tight and still. After 12 years, it still ran right through her on the rare occasion that it was directed at her personally. So, rather than turn to face Emma, she simply replied with her back turned.
“Relax, would you? Give me a little credit! It’s just the 7 of us, I promise. Now, put on your turquoise sundress and take your hair down.”
Emma’s eyes remained narrow for a few moments while she assessed Abby’s tone. After deciding it was sincere, she focused on the directions she’d just been given. “I didn’t
bring my turquoise sundress. Nobody told me to.”
“I know. That’s why I brought it. I knew you’d get all paranoid if I asked you to bring it.” Abby pulled out the dress and laid it on the bed.
“How in the world?” Emma marveled.
“I drove by yesterday while you were at work and got it out of your closet. Put it on. I’m going to plug in the curling iron so I can make your hair pretty.”
Emma was staring at Abby with an amused look of awe on her face now. “You little thief!” she said admiringly. “Breaking into my house without my permission. Frankly, I’m inclined to not change my clothes. I have no interest in being dragged to some local watering hole to be serenaded by the wait staff or whatever other devious plot you have in mind. I hardly know what to expect from you now. I never knew you were capable of such treachery.”
“I didn’t break in. You gave me a key, remember? Anyway, we’re not going anywhere, Stubborn. I do actually listen to your defiant tirades sometimes, you know. We’re just going to have a group picture taken in honor of your birthday is all.” Abby had arranged the curling iron and was quickly changing into one of her own dresses. “Hurry up!”
“Okay, okay,” Emma conceded. “But I don’t see why this couldn’t wait until after we’ve all seen each other and had a chance to catch up. I haven’t seen Mary Grace or Janna in over two years!” Emma finished putting on her dress and followed Abby’s command to sit on the fluffy, red toilet seat cover while Abby did her hair.
“I know, which is why we knew we had to do this first thing. There’s no coaxing you into a dress once you’re in vacation mode.” Abby was very skilled in the girly art of primping, and she had Emma’s hair done and pinned back from her face in under 5 minutes. At this point, she insisted on “enhancing” Emma’s eye make-up and adding some tinted lip gloss. As usual, Emma felt that this was all a bit much, but even she had to admit when Abby was finished that she looked camera ready.
Less than 10 minutes after they arrived, Abby and Emma exited the master bedroom and headed back downstairs. The front hall passed led back to a large kitchen/dining room. To the left, just before the kitchen, a large door frame opened into a wide living room with a wall of tall windows facing the lake. In front of this wall was a large sectional sofa, behind a rather large coffee table made of oak. Between the sofa and the coffee table stood Lauryn, Janna, Stacey and Mary Grace, all wearing beaming smiles. On the coffee table, were several wrapped boxes of various sizes. Caitlin was standing, camera in hand, just inside the door frame to the right. As soon as Emma rounded the corner of the door frame to see all this, the girls yelled, “Surprise!” and Caitlin temporarily blinded Emma with a camera flash.
Emma smiled and laughed somewhat awkwardly as she tried to figure out what exactly the surprise was. Then her eyes focused in on the presents covering the coffee table. “You guys! You already spent money and time away from your families to be here. You weren’t supposed to get me gifts! You’re my gifts.”
Everyone politely brushed off Emma’s protests as Caitlin grabbed a tripod and carried it toward the coffee table, opposite the sofa. After everyone had exchanged hugs, Caitlin instructed them to sit on the sofa close together. She then adjusted the camera’s focus and joined them, tiny remote in hand. She counted to three several times to make sure she had multiple shots to choose from. When she was sure they had enough serious shots, they did their traditional college shot—each of them assuming a pose representative of her personality. Caitlin reviewed all the pictures and pronounced them satisfactory before she removed the tripod and gave them permission to rearrange themselves.
Lauryn brought a casually elegant, white dining chair in from the other room and placed it on the opposite side of the coffee table. Emma was then directed to this seat of honor. As Emma seated herself, Janna reached behind the sofa and pulled out a picture frame which she propped up in front of the gifts facing Emma. It was a distressed wooden frame, painted off-white. On the bottom corner of the photo mat was a colored pencil drawing of what appeared to be a stone statue, sitting in some grass next to a bluebird. The statue was a little boy in a raincoat and boots, holding an old-fashioned garden hose up to the sky. From the spigot of this hose, dainty blue droplets ascended in an arc to the top of the frame, spanning the picture hole, and then descended and reappeared in the bottom left-hand corner, where a hearty patch of daffodils was blooming. It was all done very delicately, almost like an illustration from a classic children’s book. Around the perimeter of the mat, in the spaces not occupied by the drawing, all the girls had written little notes to Emma and signed them. However, there was no picture in the frame.
“Janna,” Emma exclaimed, “this is adorable! I’m not sure I get the illustration, though. You know I’m not pregnant, right?”
Abby actually clapped in anticipation, unable to contain her brilliant idea any longer. Emma looked at her inquisitively. She was sitting on the very edge of the sofa cushion, leaning forward in excitement. “We’re throwing you a birthday shower! I wanted to do something special for you and spoil you a little. And every time I suggest you buy some new house wares, you come up with some better use of your money and say—” here Abby paused dramatically and gestured for Emma to fill in the blank with her usual response.
“Um, who has enough money to furnish their home with new things?” Abby nodded and gestured for her to keep going. Emma didn’t want to sound bitter, so she just smiled.
Abby finished the thought for her, “And people don’t throw you a shower as a single girl, do they? Well,” Abby continued almost before Emma had drawn her next breath. “I decided you shouldn’t have to wait for a wedding shower to have nice things. So, we’re giving you a sprinkler instead! A smaller version of a shower, just to hold you over until the real thing comes. I even made up a registry. What do you think?!”
Emma slowly broke into her widest smile which emerged only when she was amused by something truly clever or deeply touched by an unexpected expression of love. On this occasion, she was both. However, she suddenly became concerned as to what Abby had “registered” her for.
“But, I haven’t registered for anything,” she ventured, still smiling.
“Oh, but you have picked things out! Come on, start opening your presents,” Abby urged. The other girls all seconded this motion, and Mary Grace lifted a box to Emma’s lap while Janna moved the picture frame to the side and Caitlin got her camera in position. Emma’s brow was contracted in confusion. She was trying hard to remember what she might have picked and when. As she began tearing the paper off the first box, however, she made up her mind to act very grateful and excited no matter what awaited her inside.
The box was heavier than Emma would have expected. After peeling off the colorful, pin dot wrapping paper, she had to get through some packing tape which was on pretty tight. During these few seconds, Emma tried to guess what it was that she could feel shifting its weight every time she moved the box. Pulling back the box lid and lifting a few sheets of blue tissue paper, she was stunned at what she saw: a very cheerful, hand-painted dinner plate that was not at all unfamiliar to her. Pottery glazed in a mustard yellow, with bright floral petals in green and blue and red—the design somehow seemed simultaneously playful and homey.
Emma instantly remembered being captivated by this French provincial line of dishes when she spotted them in the department store. She had paused to inspect them when she and Abby were shopping for Abby’s mother’s birthday several months ago. Abby had tried to encourage her to think about buying them, but Emma had brushed her off. Plus, the dishes were much more colorful than her normal taste, and she didn’t trust her initial reaction. However, she had found herself ogling them again when Abby was getting her purchase gift wrapped, and Emma was sure she wasn’t looking. Or at least, she had thought Abby wasn’t looking.
“I picked the kitchen because you’re still using your parents’ dishes from when they got married 32 years ago!” Abby gushed as Emma picked up the plate on top of what was obviously a stack of the same, separated by more tissue paper. She ran a finger over the slightly raised design, smiling.
“Abby, how did you know I wanted these? I told you I wasn’t sure they were my style.”
“Oh, please.” Abby rolled her eyes in mock exasperation. “You couldn’t take your eyes off them in the store. And the next week, when I said you should go back and get them, you said they were too expensive.”
“I always say things are too expensive. That’s not much to go on.”
“Yes, but then I said, ‘How expensive can they be for a small set?’ and you knew the ballpark amount without hesitating—which means you had already done the math.”
Emma laughed heartily at herself. She was usually able to conceal her secret thoughts, but every once in a while, Abby managed to be too clever for her. She had to laugh, too, at the look of absolute pride on Abby’s face, as if she had just checkmated a great chess champion.
“So, you do like them then?” asked Caitlin, relieved.
“I absolutely love them!” Emma assured her. “I can’t believe y’all. This was so sweet of you.”
A quick succession of 5 more boxes contained matching salad bowls, salad plates, and dessert plates—a full, 8-piece set. Stacey had bought coordinating yellow, cloth placemats and red, cloth dinner napkins. Emma felt totally spoiled and overwhelmed by her friends’ generosity and love. She was not accustomed to being the recipient of so much attention, and felt a bit unable to do it justice in her thanks. But she tried nonetheless, and they were all very gratified in her happiness.
After the official party, or Sprinkler, was over, everyone gathered in the kitchen while Lauryn served sweet tea and put mint leaves in each glass, crushing them slightly to flavor the tea. The most recent baby pictures were passed around, as well as stories of adventures in childrearing. Before they had time to notice the time, it was nearing dusk. Mary Grace and Janna began to grill some chicken on the back deck, while Lauryn combined the ingredients for a broccoli salad—Emma’s favorite. Emma helped Abby transfer the store-bought potato salad and rolls onto serving platters. Stacey set the table and refreshed everyone’s glasses with sweet tea. Caitlin cleaned up the wrapping paper from the party and organized the boxes into a neat pile near the front door. Everyone talked and laughed through dinner, clean-up, and a glass of wine.
Finally, several hours after the sun set, the ladies headed to their rooms for bed. While flossing her teeth, Emma watched Abby wash her face. She smiled softly, in
admiration and wonder of her best friend who had surprised her so perfectly and extravagantly.
“What?” Abby asked when she looked up from drying her face on a towel and caught Emma’s gaze.
“Nothing,” Emma shook her head. “I just don’t deserve you.”
“Finally,” Abby sighed sarcastically. “It’s about time you realized that.”
Emma giggled and punched her in the arm as they turned out the light and climbed into bed. Emma slept perfectly soundly that night and had no difficulty falling asleep in an unfamiliar room. It was so peaceful in the mountains, and she felt entirely homey having her college hallmates nearby again. “Thank you, Lord,” she prayed silently as she drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, Emma awoke to the smell of something delicious. Grabbing her robe, she made her way downstairs to find Mary Grace baking cinnamon rolls while Abby fried bacon in a little brown sugar. Of all the things Emma had come to love about the South, the food was definitely near the top of the list.
“Good mornin’,” Mary Grace greeted her. “How’d you sleep?”
“Wonderfully,” Emma sighed as she stretched her arms. “It smells divine! I can already feel myself gaining weight.”
“Birthday calories don’t count,” Abby reminded her.
“Even when the birthday becomes a 3-day extravaganza with a Southern cook like Mary Grace?” Emma asked playfully.
“Don’t worry. We’ll burn it off on our hike around the lake today,” Mary Grace
assured her.
“Do you bake like this every morning, MG? Luke must be huge!”
“No,” laughed Mary Grace, “only on Sundays, and then we have a light lunch.”
“Must not be much of a day of rest if you get up early enough to do all this,” Emma observed as she surveyed the pans of hash browns already on the table.
“Oh, no. I prepare everythin’ on Saturday. Sunday, I just get up and pop it all in the oven. Luke does the bacon. Plus, remember, I’m only doin’ it for three people at home. Do you wanna go wake the others? We’re fixin’ to be done here in a minute.”
“Sure thing.” Emma stood in awe of what a natural homemaker Mary Grace had always been. Emma felt very culinary if she made a bowl of oatmeal from scratch and scrambled an egg or two on Sunday morning, instead of just grabbing a cereal bar. Good heavens, what would I do with a husband and children? she suddenly reflected while climbing the stairs. I can barely cook and fend for myself as it is.
The morning passed in a succession of sensory delights. Breakfast was delectable, in all its Southern luxuriance. The morning hike around the lake was beautiful. They even saw a few deer. For lunch, they had salad and rolls on the porch, overlooking the lake as the sun reflected off the water in a dancing pattern. After lunch, Emma and Stacey headed down to the dock to lie in the sun while Abby talked baby advice with the others.
Lying on the padded, wooden lounge chairs on the dock, Stacey and Emma chatted a little about work and family. They had hit it off instantly when they met, which is how Stacey came to be a member of their circle despite being a year younger. Stacey had a knack for connecting with people and making everyone feel at home around her. This was a large part of what made her so good at her job. But she also had a more reflective, private side that she didn’t show most people. Emma was one of those few people that Stacey could be vulnerable with, which caused them to be somewhat closer than the others.
“So, tell me the truth,” Stacey said after the small talk had run out. “How bad is it? I want to know how to prepare myself for next year.” Emma smiled at Stacey’s characteristic bluntness. Since they frequently commiserated about their rising ages and dwindling prospects, Emma knew exactly what Stacey was referring to.
“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, actually. At least, dreading it was much worse than the actual day itself. Just now, I don’t feel 30 at all. I feel like a college girl again. Hopefully, that youthful feeling will outlive the weekend.”
“Good. I’m already having nightmares of waking up with wrinkles and sagging cleavage the day I turn 30.”
“I don’t think that happens overnight,” Emma chuckled.
There was a lull in conversation for a minute while they listened to the small lake waves lapping against each other. Then Stacey resumed the discussion, “What’s to become of us, dear Emma?”
“Oh, eventually I suppose we’ll pool our resources and move into some swanky retirement community together. Of course, you’ll have to fund most of it since my career
isn’t very lucrative. And we’ll grow old and locally famous as the quickest-witted old biddies around. All the neighbors and care staff will admire us greatly.”
“And we’ll flirt shamelessly with all the male nurses, of course,” Stacey added in perfect deadpan.
“Speak for yourself!” Emma responded with mock indignation. “I’m only going to flirt with the cute ones.”
Stacey accidentally snorted in trying to stifle a giggle, which caused them both to break out laughing. A few minutes later, when their laughter had faded into giggles and finally a pleasant silence, Stacey pursued the topic of their singleness from a more analytical standpoint.
“Seriously, though, what is up with our situation? I mean, I think we’re both pretty eligible.”
“Agreed,” Emma nodded. “Or at least, you’re pretty and I’m eligible.”
Stacey ignored Emma’s self-critique. “I think we’re both attractive women.”
“Quite attractive.”
“We’re both sociable, intelligent—”
“Highly intelligent.”
“—entertaining to be around. I love going out about town.”
“And I love making clever, witty conversation.”
“No one is cleverer,” Stacey offered gallantly.
“Why thank you,” Emma turned to Stacey and made half a bow in her direction as if they were very elegant people from another era. Stacey nodded back in kind.
“So, this is my point,” Stacey continued. “We are both highly eligible women.”
“How are we still single?” Emma asked pointedly, shaking her head in disbelief.
“This is what I’m saying to you.” Stacey rested her case and reclined back into her lounge chair again. Emma followed suit.
“I don’t know, Stace, maybe we’re too eligible.”
“You know what I hate?” Stacey asked as she flipped onto her stomach. “Having to act all confident and excited about my life all the time. It’s like, you’re not supposed to be too self-sufficient and confident or you’re considered unapproachable. But, if you actually walk around the way you feel—”
“Exhausted, insecure, and lonely,” Emma filled in.
“—exactly. If you show that, then no one will be interested because you’re not bubbly and confident. We’re supposed to somehow be these in-between people—content, confident, and bubbly while somehow miraculously giving off this message that we’re vulnerable and need someone to take care of us. How the heck are you supposed to do that?”
“Darned if I know. Trying to find something interesting to say about my life all the time is the worst for me. I have to be ready to swoop in with a conversation-saver if someone asks if I’ve met anyone or if I’m dating anyone. I can’t just say ‘no’ or it’s
followed by that awkward silence, and I feel guilty. Or worse, I might actually betray the fact that I’m not the champion single girl anymore if the silence lasts too long. Most people don’t seem to have the forethought to be ready with a follow-up question like, ‘How’s work going?’ or ‘How’s your family?’ So, I feel like it’s up to me to come up with something more interesting than the fact that I’m not dating. Only, the truth is, that’s getting really hard to do. There’s nothing new in my life, and no one in it to
discuss really except my students. Even I’m bored with my life, so I’m sure it’s only a matter of time before everyone else will lose interest in hearing about it. I don’t have anything interesting to offer to change the subject anymore. I’m just a sad, boring single person.”
“My friend Jamie is always saying things like that about motherhood. She feels like she never has anything to report about herself anymore, just the kids. She says she doesn’t remember what it’s like to have her own, individual identity.”
“Yeah, I’ve heard that a lot, too. I used to find it a reminder to enjoy being single. But now, I feel like I’m in the exact same situation as them, with one key difference—I don’t even have kids to talk about. I feel just as boring and lost, and I have no noble role to justify it.”
“We need to find some new hobbies or something,” Stacey suggested.
“Yeah.” Emma loved talking to Stacey about the woes of singledom because Stacey never felt the need to contradict or comfort, like married people always seemed to. She just listened and accepted the feelings. She didn’t try to change them or overcome them. Emma never felt like she was causing Stacey distress by sharing her true feelings.
“How about clubbing or weekly singles nights at a local pub?” Stacey suggested somewhat jokingly, but only somewhat.
Emma laughed and shook her head. “I’ll leave that up to your bravery. Maybe I could take up art or something. At least it would give me something to discuss about myself, even if I didn’t meet anybody.” At this point, the other girls had changed into their suits and were headed down the lawn to join them, so they left their resolutions at that.
Sunday passed equally tranquilly. The girls had a time of fellowship in the morning, since there was no church really nearby. They each took a turn sharing prayer requests, and being prayed over by the other girls. It had been a long time since they had been able to really pray for each other, and the girls felt encouraged and strengthened both in their faith and their friendships. After the last girl had been prayed over, they sang a few of their favorite praise songs from college while Lauryn played her acoustic guitar. Then, they headed off to various thoughtful places about the property to read their Bibles individually for about half an hour before reuniting for lunch—just sandwiches and fruit. It was a much-needed time of undistracted fellowship with the Lord for all of them.
Before they knew it, Monday morning arrived and it was time to pack up. Abby’s true reason for bringing the suburban revealed itself as they loaded in the boxes of dishes, along with the used towels and linens. After locking up the house, they all turned with full and somewhat heavy hearts back to the business of normal life. They shared a late breakfast at a Cracker Barrel just outside Atlanta before parting ways with promises to call more often, multiple hugs, and one more group photo. Caitlin promised to e-mail the photos to everyone and to get an 8×10 print for Emma’s frame.
After helping Emma unpack the new dishes and make room for them in the kitchen cabinets, Abby headed back to the suburban to go home. Emma followed her and
gave her a big hug through the rolled down window. “I think that was quite possibly the best weekend of my life. Seriously. You’re an angel,” she said she.
Abby tried, not very successfully, to conceal some of the glory of her triumph in her broad smile. Her perfect success was written all over her face, especially in the dimples and sparkling eyes. “It was pretty great, wasn’t it?” she remarked.
“It was perfect! Thank you so much. Try to make it home safely, alright?”
“Alright,” Abby said. “Love you. See you on Saturday for our walk.” “Okay. Bye.” Emma nonchalantly walked to the street to check her mail as Abby backed out of the driveway—just in case she needed to yell a warning before Abby hit something more substantial than a recycling bin this time. Abby made it safely out of the driveway this time and waved as she drove away. Emma smiled and waved back before collecting her mail and heading back inside to reflect on a great birthday weekend.
A Youthful Spinster 