by Taryn Steele
The same time Jameson knocks on the door he opens it as well.
“Babe...What’s wrong? Why are you crying? Are you hurt?”
The concern in his voice is equal to the expression on his face. I’m torn on if I should tell him the truth or not. Who wants to get into an argument on their honeymoon? I don’t but I don’t want to lie to him either. I need to decide fast.
“No, I’m not hurt – Just a nasty headache.”
“Let me find you some aspirin. I gotta take care of my wife. We can’t have tears on our honeymoon.”
How quickly he jumps in to action to take care of me, the comment about me having tears on our honeymoon just sets off more tears. I begin sobbing again. I can’t shut it off. As soon as he hears me he swiftly turns around and comes to my side wiping the tears from my face. I can’t take the scared look on his face. It’s killing me keeping this from him but I don’t want to start a fight either. It’s driving me mad!
“Hillary, what can I do to help besides find you some aspirin?”
“Don’t hate me for saying this.” I manage to speak with a loud sigh. “When I was getting a bottle of water I heard a weird vibrating sound. I found it coming from our beach bag, it was your phone. You had three missed calls and two texts from your mom just from today. She has been non-stop since we left and it’s freaking me out and pissing me off at the same time. Why can’t she give us this time alone? Is she ever going to let us be happy and have some privacy? I’m worried, and I don’t want you to be mad at me for having these feelings and being honest. I just – “
“Ssh ssh ssh.” He cuts me off while cupping my face and continuing to wipe my tears. “Listen to me. Let me handle my mother. There is a reason why I have not answered one damn phone call, nor have I responded to one damn text. If she doesn’t get the hint by now she will eventually, and I plan on having a long fucking talk with her when we get back about this. I promise.”
“I’m sorry Jameson. I just …”
“Hey, no apologies are necessary on this. If anything I should be apologizing to you because it’s my fucking mother who is trying to torment us on our honeymoon.”
“How about we both agree to not apologize to each other. We take a deep breath and you join me in this tub and we forget all about this?”
“That I can definitely agree on.
THIS TRIP TO PORTUGAL has been the best ten days ever, so far in my life. I hate to have to leave and go back to reality but this is life. It’s three-fifteen in the morning and we are packing up our last few belongings to go to the airport. It will be another long day of travel with a layover in Dublin but Jameson and I will just chalk it up to another adventure together with stories to tell our children someday.
Driving to the airport was a piece of cake, which is what we expected for such an early hour of the morning. Our rental car drop off was right near our gate so that saved us a little bit of time. After we have our bags checked we don’t need, we require coffee at this point. I will be such a cranky bitch the entire flight without it. Jameson will be a bear. Checking the time we see that we have thirty-five minutes before the plane starts boarding. We notice a sign that reads Costa Coffee and make a bee line for it with big smiles. As soon as we step inside the smell of ground coffee beans hits us, putting us at ease. It reminds me a little bit of Starbucks. The atmosphere is the same with its signage; the food items are similar with wraps, pastries, and sandwiches. The same goes for the coffees and teas. I had to chuckle when I looked at the menu and read “Babyccino’s.” It’s a mini drink for your kid so they can feel grown up too. I find that so adorable. We order our breakfast and coffee, find a seat and enjoy our last few minutes in Portugal. We’re still tired from getting up early but we have a three hour flight to Dublin that we plan on using to catch up on the lost hours of sleep.
That sleep did not last long, at least it doesn’t feel like it. Was that really only three hours? It felt more like forty-five minutes. I can’t help but love the Irish accent the flight attendant is trying to use welcoming us to Dublin. I always wanted to visit Ireland but I was hoping to get out of the airport. I nudge Jameson’s elbow to wake him up and to tell him we had arrived in Dublin. I pull our flight information from my carry on to see what gate we have to be at and how much time we have to get there in.
“Wakey-Wakey. We have plenty of time to find out where we have to be. Our layover is almost three hours.”
“Cool,” he barely grumbles out while rubbing his eyes.
Stepping out into the Dublin airport is like stepping out of a spaceship into another world. This place is gigantic. I swear ninety percent of this place is colored in only silver and green. Passing by all of the travelers it’s hard for me not to laugh at the accent and even harder for me not to pretend to have one myself. I love the Irish accent.
After thirty minutes of walking around and checking out local shops Jameson points out a dark green trimmed store front with gold letters that reads “Gate Clock Bar.”
“Want to grab something to eat before the long flight home?” He asks.
“It might not be a bad idea.”
The first thing I notice as we walk in are the tables and chairs outside of the bar. The small tables for two are made of barrels with round, wooden tops secured to them reading “JAMESON IRISH WHISKEY – TRIPLE DISTILLED in 1924 – BOW ST. DISTILLERY – DUBLIN.” I love the idea! We step in to the small bar with dark hard wood floors and a warm feel. There is an average sized, silver haired gentleman behind the bar.
“How goes the battle? Take a seat lads. The names Ryan O’Connor. Take a menu.” He smiles greeting us.
“Thank you,” we say simultaneously and take the last two open seats at the marble topped bar.
I’m quickly falling in love with the charm and warmth of this traditional Irish pub. The laughter and cheer from the locals and the other tourists is a welcome feeling. The menu consists of a full bar, snacks, pastries and sandwiches. I think we’ve found our home until it’s time to board.
THERE ISN’T MUCH TIME between departing the plane, getting our luggage and back in another seated position for the drive home. I really just a want a really good, full body stretch for a straight ten minutes - and a shower - I really want a shower. I loathe airport germs.
Seconds from pulling in to our driveway I find myself slightly excited to be back in my own home, my own bed, my own shower. Don’t get me wrong. I would give anything to hit the rewind button and do the last two weeks over again, wedding stress and all but come on – there’s nothing like your own place. Waiting for a car to pass so we can pull in to our driveway I turn my head past the tree in my visions way and there it is … a maroon Subaru in our driveway. Marcie’s maroon Subaru. What in the fuckity-fuck is she doing here?
“Jameson …”
“Oh what the fuck?” He exasperates.
“Please tell me the long day of travel has my eyes seeing things and your mother didn’t let herself into our home to sit here and wait for us for some unknown reason?”
“I wish I could babe. Let me handle this.”
We grab our luggage from the car, lock it up and walk the short brick path that leads to our front door. As soon as Jameson puts the key in the lock the door swings open with Marcie standing there with a large smile on her face.
“Welcome home!” She shouts.
“Ma … thanks … what are you doing here?”
“I just wanted to say hi. Is that so wrong?”
“No, ma. It’s not wrong that you wanted to say hi but it’s been a long day. It’s late, and we’re obviously tired…”
“Well dear, while I’m here let’s talk about the Labor Day holiday and make plans for a cook out.” Marcie says interrupting Jameson.
“Oh my fucking God Marcie! Stop it already!” I shout losing all of my patience.
Jameson and Marcie both swiftly turn their heads looking at me in shock.
“I’m sorry but this is ridiculous. I find it extremely rude and in
trusive that you let yourself in our home. Jameson is trying to explain to you that we had a long day of traveling, are extremely tired and you are not hearing it and want to make Labor Day plans on the spot. I mean, come on give us a break already, go home and let us call you tomorrow.”
“Jameson, are you going to let her talk to me that way?”
“Ma, now is not the time. I told you before we’ve had a long day and we’re tired. Go home and I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“We’ll I’ve never felt so unwelcome in my life.”
I’ve heard enough, and it’s just now that I realize that Jameson and I are still holding our luggage in our hands. I drop my bags at my feet and storm out of the room and into the kitchen. I don’t want to hear it anymore. I stare at my hands gripping my beige, Formica countertops. The lights may be off but the glow from the entry way still illuminates through and I can see my knuckles turning white. Why do I let this woman get to me? We’re supposed to be creating a family that merges with their existing one, not tearing it all apart.
I hear the front door slam closed. Seconds later I hear Marcie yelling at Jameson. I pull the window shade back a little to see what’s happening outside, I can’t see much but I can clearly hear Marcie shouting.
“Why am I not welcome here Jameson?”“Why do you love her more than me Jameson?”“She’s not good enough for you.”“She’s doesn’t make enough money to help support you.”“She doesn’t like me. She’ll never like me, and all I’ve done is be nice to her.”“She doesn’t clean this house enough.”“She takes all of your attention.”“She’ll never be enough for you. Never enough.”
I let go of the window shade and slide down the wall. With my knees pulled to my chest, my face falls in to my hands and I cry. If Marcie has her way, she’ll never let Jameson think that I am enough for him.
IT’S BEEN TWO MONTHS since Jameson and I came home from our honeymoon and had a show down with Marcie. He called her the next day and had a lengthy conversation with her. I didn’t hear much of it. He went outside to talk to her knowing I would probably get riled up hearing one side of the conversation. I would be riled up regardless. I was climbing the walls while he was outside trying to hear what he was saying. In the end he told me most of what she said to him went in one ear and out the other. He said he made his points loud and clear and we would see if she followed suit. She no longer calls the house and only calls Jameson’s cell phone directly. She hasn’t stopped here like she usually does saying “she’s in the area.” Whether she’s “following suit” like Jameson said or being a child about it I don’t really care at this point anymore. She’s done more harm than good in our short relationship so the further away she is the better.
I’m going out with Lily tonight, and I can’t wait. I haven’t had a girl’s night out since before the wedding. Jameson and Bevan’s birthdays are two months apart but they are they are both turning thirty. Lily and I came up with a fun idea to have a Halloween themed birthday party in the middle of their two birthdays. Our friend Jay designed a fake party invitation to be sent to each of our homes so there are no questions on Jameson and Bevan’s part about what is going on. The party is tomorrow so Lily and I have a lot of last minute things to go over.
Waiting outside of Ruby Tuesday’s, our new favorite place to meet for dinner solely on their alcoholic beverages I see her sporty red car pull in to the spot next to mine.
“Hey!” I shout waving to her.
“Hey bitch! Give me a hug – talk, text and email is not enough.”
“I don’t know about you but I’m hungry. I need a drink and we need to get down to business for tomorrow.” I tell her.
“I’m down. Let’s go.”
Over two hours we talk party plans, mother in laws, work, shopping and talking about this new show that debuted The Bachelorette. I mention to Lily that my dad will meet us early tomorrow morning at the VFW clubhouse we are renting for the day to help set up the table and chairs. It’s only fifteen minutes from him, same for Lily but it’s twice that for me. I don’t mind though. It was only two hundred dollars to rent the place for the entire day, and a bartender comes with that. All in all, that saved Lily and myself a lot of money on alcohol. We know people might complain that its cash bar but it doesn’t mean that they can’t bring their own. I won’t stop them.
“So I forgot to ask, is Marcie helping out at all?” Lily asks as we walk to our cars.
“She sent me a text to RSVP. I replied with a simple ‘OK’ and mentioned how all of the parents are offering to help and asked her if she was willing to do the same. She said she’ll bring a dessert. I didn’t bother to respond. I didn’t want to go back and forth knowing I wasn’t going to get anywhere with her.”
“I’m sorry Hil’. We won’t let her ruin anything. It’s going to be an awesome party. You should see Bevan in his Hail Cesar costume. He keeps trying on the head piece. He thinks he looks badass.”
“Oh geez! I can’t wait.”
I love how Lily knows how to change a conversation around to get me out of a pissy Marcie mood. We hug, say our good-bye’s knowing we will be seeing each other again in only a few hours.
I SLEPT LIKE SHIT last night. I was tossing and turning, my brain would not shut off. I was trying to make sure I didn’t forget anything for the party. On top of that Jameson was tossing and turning himself coughing all night. Please don’t let him be sick. Not today of all days. I turn on my side, with his back facing me I rub my hand up and down his back to stir him awake. He releases an achy moan while rolling on his side to face me. This is not a good sign.
“Good morning sleepy head. You sure we’re coughing a lot last night.”
“Ugh, I feel like shit,” he groans.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
“Oh babe. I’m sorry. Well get some rest, take some vitamins and I’m sure you’ll feel better later for the party.”
“If I still feel like this I’m not going to any party.”
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!
This can’t be happening.
All the time that Lily and I have put in to this party, he has to come.
He has to feel better.
I do my best to rain in my emotions and not yell at him for something he has no control over. I don’t want to ruin the surprise and tell him he has to go because the party is partially for him. I take a deep breath, kiss him on the cheek and tell him to get some rest and I’ll call him later. He thinks I’m going to visit Grandma Nowal to take her grocery shopping. I do it all of the time, he has no reason to ask. It’s legit.
Before heading out the door I bring him some orange juice along with cold and sinus medicine, not knowing what he has it should do the trick regardless. I hope. Hopping in the car my phone alerts me that I have a text from Lily.
DEPRESSO: THE FEELING YOU GET WHEN YOU RUN OUT OF COFFEE.
STOPPING TO GET SOME AND I’LL SEE YOU THERE.
I laugh at her text and realize she has the right idea, coffee first.
I make it to the VFW in record time, no need to mention that I was exceeding the speed limit by at least ten to fifteen miles per hour. I couldn’t help it. The traffic was clear, the sun was out and the music fit the mood along with the coffee in my hand. My dad and Lily are already there when I pull in. My dad is unloading the groceries he purchased out of the bags for the chicken wings he volunteered to make.
“What’s wrong?” Lily asks, already seeing the frustration on my face.
“Jameson was up all night coughing. He said if he still feels like crap later he’s not going to the party.”
“Oh fuck! Well, let’s not freak out just yet. It could be a quick passing thing.”
I pray she’s right.
We spend the next couple of hours, just the three of us setting up tables, chairs and decorations. I’ve sent Jameson two texts asking how he’s feeling but he hasn’t responded. I can only hope it’s because he’s resting.
The place looks great. It’s a big open room. We have eight
tables set up with eight chairs at each. We have orange, black and white plastic table covers on them for easy clean up. I found a haunted door decoration at Party City last week that has blood streaming down. Lily bought some hanging spiders that she tacked all throughout the room from the ceiling. The far corner of the room is set up for the DJ who thankfully cost us nothing because its Lily’s uncle. Everything is going smoothly. If only I knew how Jameson was feeling. Maybe he didn’t hear the quiet chime from his phone to know he has a text? I’m just going to stop pondering and call him. The phone rings and rings, the answering machine picks up so I hang up. Fine, maybe he heard it but didn’t want to get out of bed to answer it. I’ll call his cell phone.
“Hello,” he answers groggily.
“Hey hun. Just checking in. I’ll be home soon. How are you feeling?”
“No better. No worse.”
“Do you want me to pick anything up for you on the way home? Gatorade or soup maybe?”
“Nah. I’m okay.”
“Okay. I’ll see you in about an hour.”
I hang my head in defeat. I can feel the tears about to pour out. What am I going to do if he doesn’t want to go to this party tonight? All the money I spent … all of the time Lily and I put in to this.