Bye-Bye Book Club

The idea formed over a glass of wine and a plate of cheese. I was sitting with Kari at Shutters on the Beach, a hotel that would host Kari’s wedding reception in a few short months. My own wedding was that same summer, and I'm pretty sure the purpose of the meeting was to talk about invitations, or flowers, or menu items. Instead, Kari said, “We should start a book club.”

“Hey, I’ve always wanted to be in a book club,” I said. “I love books.”

Kari had been in a book club before. A formal one. “There were all these rules,” Kari said. “Nobody could pick a hardcover book – we had to wait until the paperback edition came out, everyone was supposed to come with a list of questions, and they spent the entire time discussing the actual book.”

“Ugh,” I said, picturing a group of cerebral looking women wearing round spectacles and holding fat paperback copies of Tolstoy’s Anna Karenina.

Our book club, we decided, was going to be fun. Casual. If there was a book we wanted to read and it was still in hardcover, well we’d just go ahead buy it anyway.

It’s been three years, and we’ve stuck to plan, especially the “casual” part. For the first ten minutes we’ll greet each other. Then, for the next hour, we’ll catch up. Somewhere around 8:30 someone will say, “Should we talk about the book?”

Yes, we should.

We’ll whip out our $24.95 hard cover copies, of which almost no one has read.

“Don’t tell me how it ends,” Robin will say. “I swear I’m gonna finish it.”

“Yeah, don’t tell me what happens after page 6,” Kari will say. “That’s how far I got.”

Amy is always the lone person who has finished the book, cover to cover. Always. Not that this hinders the group discussion, it’s just that we’ll revert to personal matters again. At this point the wine’s been flowing, so the sharing becomes quite interesting.

Towards the end of the night someone will say, “Should we pick a book for next time?”

Yes, we should.

We’ll launch into a 40 minute debate that involves brainstorming, looking at past lists, logging onto Amazon.com, pulling out the NYT bestseller list, the works. Don’t ask me why. No one except Amy will read it. But what can I say? I love our book club. I wouldn’t change it for the world.

Over the years we’ve seen each other through weddings, births, career changes, housing purchases, and construction. Because we take turns hosting, we’ve tasted each other’s cooking. (I have to say, Amy wins on this front too. Her meals are complete with an appetizer, entrée, and the kind of dessert that involves sprinkling mini-chocolate chips and drizzling sauces.) Best of all we’ve become close friends.

But one night I have an announcement.

So does Amy.

“I’m moving to Maryland,” I say.

“I’m moving to Charlotte,” Amy says.

The last book club was at my place. Miraculously, almost everyone read the book, not that we spent any time discussing it. Instead, we dealt with the impending bust up.

The big question was whether or not the current book club would continue minus two members.

“I think we should still meet,” Kari said.

The other members nodded.

“Let’s pick a book for next time,” someone said.

In that moment, a separation occurred. Suddenly, it was “us” and “them.” Amy and I were not a part of the next phase of book club. In less than 30 seconds the new book club picked Prep.

“That was easy!” Kari said.

The night was over and the book club girls filed down the stairs. I stood at the door of my apartment, watching. “Bye-bye!” I called. “Thanks for the best book club ever!”

There were shouts and murmurs from the stairs: “Aw” and “it was the best” and more “bye-byes.”

Even though I was smiling and filled with gratitude, I had to take in a deep breath and stuff back tears. Bye-bye book club. Bye-bye.