by AnonYMous
“Of course. Friends can give showers, too, not just members of the wedding party.”
I leaned across the table and took her hands in mine. “I’m sorry, Brenda. I really wanted you as my maid of honor, but Lonnie. . . .” I stopped. “You will be in my wedding. That’s the first detail I plan to straighten out with Lonnie.”
A little while later as I walked her to the door, Brenda turned to me and said, “I still wish you were marrying my brother.”
“You’re totally ridiculous,” I said. “There’s never been anything between us despite all the pretend games we played as kids.”
“I don’t know. Paul was very upset when you left the other night. He kept punching one hand into the other—said he’d like to make mincemeat out of Lonnie. He can’t understand how such a nice girl as yourself could fall for such a jerk.”
Sobering, I placed my hand on her shoulder. “Listen, Brenda—I love Lonnie, and I want to make this work. So I need your support. I can’t remain friends with you if you’re always down on him.”
“So I’ll try harder.” We hugged each other then. “I want whatever makes you happy, April.”
On Wednesday evening, Brenda and I planned to pick up our parents at the airport. I was surprised to see Paul walking up my sidewalk as I locked the front door. He lived on the other side of town, close to where he worked.
“You ready?” he asked.
Puzzled, I waited for an explanation.
“Brenda has to work tonight and fill in for another clerk, so I volunteered to drive to the airport.”
“You didn’t have to do that. I can pick them up.” I motioned to my two-door Geo.
“Sure, if you put the luggage on the roof. Anyway, we’ll take Dad’s car, like Brenda originally planned.”
He grasped my elbow and directed me to the van parked in his parents’ driveway. We had to detour past several broken limbs that had fallen from the old maple.
“Something has to be done about this,” he said, looking up.
I pulled my elbow out of his grasp and headed for the van. His touch had unnerved me, and I had to shake off my unexpected reaction. Nothing had ever happened between us—nothing physical, anyway. He’d never once tried to kiss me, not even after the prom. And yet, here I was going bonkers over a casual touch!
I forced myself to think of other things, focusing on my problems with Lonnie. I still hadn’t come to any decision on how I’d go about telling him of my misgivings.
I couldn’t think of a thing to say to Paul during the thirty-minute ride to the airport. He may have had the same problem, because he didn’t initiate any conversation, either. It seemed strange, sharing so much silence, especially since we’d never had any difficulty talking to each other before.
Indeed, it wasn’t until we saw our parents coming toward us at the airport’s arrivals gate that Paul said, “You’re making a big mistake.”
I’d been waving frantically at our folks at the time, and slowly brought my arm down.
“About what?”
“Marrying that clown.”
Before I could say any more, my father was picking me up off the ground in a crushing hug and my mother was jabbering away about their terrific time.
“You and Lonnie will absolutely love it, dear!”
“What are you talking about?” I asked when my feet touched the ground again.
Mom looked at Dad and then the two of them grinned at each other. “We’ve purchased the same cruise for your honeymoon—our wedding present to you!”
“Look, she’s speechless!” Paul’s mother piped in. The two older women exchanged a high-five clap and launched into some weird dance they’d obviously picked up on their cruise.
“Let’s get going,” Dad said, “before you ladies embarrass these young people to death!”
How could I break it to them then that the wedding might be on hold?
By the time we reached the van, my mother was in danger of losing her voice. Paul’s mother was just as bad, and the two talked nonstop the whole way home about what a wonderful time Lonnie and I would have on our honeymoon.
“Come on over to our house,” Paul’s father said when we pulled into the driveway. “There’s no reason for the party to stop just because we’re off the boat!”
The phone was ringing as I helped my parents bring their luggage into the house. Mom picked it up and handed it to me a moment later. “Join us next door when you’re finished,” she whispered in a hoarse voice as she headed for the door. “I want to know what Lonnie thinks of our present!”
As soon as I’d said hello, Lonnie started to ask about the items on the list. Had I talked to the caterer? Did my gown fit? Would the baker have any problems making the cake he wanted? And, oh, yes—were the invitations in the mail yet?
Right then and there, I wanted to say, “Stop! I can’t marry you until we settle some serious problems!” But how could I destroy a man’s hopes and dreams over the phone? Especially someone I still cared about—that wonderful person that Lonnie could be when he wasn’t making me squirm. Would he change once I told him how I felt?
“We need to talk, Lonnie.”
“Talk? Isn’t that what we’re doing?”
I took a deep breath. “There are some issues. . . .”
“Issues?” He paused. “You know, I should’ve known better than to trust you with so much. I’ll take care of everything when I get home. In the meantime, you can do the invitations, can’t you?” I heard the frustration in his voice. It echoed in the hollowness of my heart.
My mother greeted me at the door when I went over to my neighbors’ house.
“What did Lonnie say?” she asked before I could even enter the living room. “Does he want to go on the cruise?”
My father joined her and they both looked at me expectantly. Paul and his parents came over, as well, confining me in the narrow vestibule.
“There’re some problems,” I said, all the while wishing I could avoid an explanation.
“Problems? What problems?” Mom asked.
“The timing might not be right.”
“Can’t he get his vacation then?” Dad asked.
I was feeling claustrophobic when Paul pushed through the group and came to my side. “We can hear the details later. Right now, I think April could use a drink.”
I looked up at him with gratitude. How did he know exactly when I required rescue? Why couldn’t Lonnie be as sensitive to my needs? With an arm around my shoulders, Paul guided me into the kitchen.
“Any preference? Or do you want me to mix you something to knock you out?”
I nodded and sat down at the kitchen table. A few moments later, he handed me a dark-colored drink.
“Oh, this is smooth,” I said after taking a sip. “I can’t even taste the liquor.”
“Because I didn’t add any. It’s mostly chocolate. I read somewhere that chocolate helps people relax.”
“You got any more? I could use a gallon.”
He sat across from me and took a sip from his bottle of beer before saying, “I’m sorry if I added to your problems. I spoke out of turn at the airport.”
“No. You spoke out of concern, and I appreciate it. Lonnie and I have several things to straighten out.”
“Mind if I get even more personal, then?”
I shook my head.
“Lonnie’s the one who needs straightening out.”
I placed both arms on the table and asked, “And I suppose you have suggestions?”
Paul propped his chair back on its legs and held eye contact with me while he took another sip of his beer. “What he really needs is to have someone take him out behind the barn and beat him to a pulp, but, of course. . . .” He dropped his chair back down to all four legs. “Have you considered counseling?”
“Counseling?”
“Yeah, premarital counseling to work out the kinks before the wedding. Some churches require it.”
Not able to sleep that night, I thoug
ht about consulting a third party—someone who could help us work out our problems. But would Lonnie go for it? For that matter, could a neutral party consider me the problem? Maybe if I changed my attitude . . . but about what? Accept the insults? Follow every detail of his instructions and never have a single thought of my own?
On Friday, I took another personal day off and wrote down all the things that were bothering me. I felt I should discuss each point with Lonnie. And if that didn’t work, then I could suggest visiting a counselor.
I knew what time he was flying in, and although he hadn’t asked me to pick him up, I decided to meet him at the airport. He looked genuinely surprised when he saw me standing there at the arrivals gate.
“April, what are you doing here?” He dropped his bags and took me in his arms.
“I missed you,” I said. And it was true. I longed for the security and warmth I felt in his arms. So how could I ever consider giving it up?
He laughed as he planted a quick kiss on my forehead, then turned me around to face another man. “Jon Haggerty, this is my future bride.”
I had heard the name before. Mr. Haggerty was Lonnie’s boss, the man he worshipped, the man Lonnie aspired to be.
“So, this is April,” Mr. Haggerty said as he took my hand. “How thoughtful of you to come for us. At least we won’t have to hassle with cabs.”
Lonnie had never cared for my little car, though, and from his pained expression, he obviously didn’t want his boss exposed to it. But what could he do? Mr. Haggerty assumed that I’d drive him anywhere he wanted to go, and Lonnie wasn’t about to deny him anything.
Out in the parking lot, once we reached my car, Lonnie took the keys from me and relegated me to the backseat along with the luggage. During the drive, Mr. Haggerty occasionally drew me into the conversation, but Lonnie ignored me completely. Once we reached his house, Mr. Haggerty thanked me for saving him so much trouble. It wasn’t until after we’d dropped off his boss and I’d moved to the front seat that Lonnie finally spoke to me.
“Whatever possessed you to show up with this . . . this. . . .” He banged on the steering wheel, unable to come up with any words. “Jon Haggerty rides around in limousines, not little tin cans! Do you know how much you embarrassed me?”
It took some doing, but I managed to keep from shouting. “He seemed to take it in stride, Lonnie.”
“Of course he did! You think he’s going to come right out and say what a piece of junk this is?”
“No. Because he’s a gracious gentleman. Something you haven’t been tonight.”
Without warning, Lonnie’s arm suddenly flung out, and he hit me across the face. Stunned, I just sat there, holding my mouth. Although I couldn’t see in the dim light, I knew my lip was bleeding; I could taste the blood.
Neither of us spoke while he drove to his apartment. When he stopped the car, Lonnie sat there for a long moment, grasping the steering wheel.
“I’m sorry I swatted you, April, but you drive me crazy sometimes.” With that, he got out of the car and grabbed his suitcase from the back.
“I’ll come over tomorrow, and we’ll get those wedding preparations completed.”
I sat in the passenger seat until he’d disappeared into his building.
How could he do that? I thought. How could he whack me and say it was all my fault?
The pain I felt in my lip was nothing compared to the pain I felt in my chest. My heart had broken in two with that slap. I knew then that nothing Lonnie could say or do would ever mend it.
The only other time anyone had ever hit me, I’d been five. I’d run away from home and my parents had spent a frantic hour calling the police and searching the neighborhood. Upon my safe return, I’d received one swat to my behind, followed by lots of hugs and kisses.
But Lonnie’s actions weren’t from love, or from a fear of losing me. And although it was the first time we’d actually come to blows, suddenly, I could recall several other occasions when he’d made me physically uncomfortable. That night at Brenda’s when he’d pressed his hands into my shoulders until it hurt. At the time, I’d dismissed it, but there were other times, I knew, as well, when he’d held my hands too tightly, or kept me from escaping his grip.
All those vivid recollections that I’d hidden too long in my subconscious. No wonder I’d been having these misgivings about getting married to him.
That night, I took care of the invitations, all right. I shredded every last one of them before going to bed. For a change, I had a very good night’s sleep.
I woke to the sound of a chain saw. Looking out the window, I saw Paul outside on a ladder, cutting some dead limbs off the old maple. He waved when he saw me watching and indicated that he wanted to talk to me.
I quickly dressed, brushed my teeth, and splashed some water on my face. One side of my lip was a little swollen, but the cut was inside my mouth and no longer hurt. When I went downstairs and opened the front door, Paul was waiting on the porch.
“Hi,” he said with a big grin.
It disappeared instantly when he looked at my face. Tentatively, he reached out and touched my lip, but didn’t say anything. I reached up to my knotted hair and wished I’d taken the time to comb it.
“What can I do for you?” I asked as I tried running my fingers through my hair.
“Our parents took off again, leaving me to trim the tree. Your father said maybe we should cut the tree down. What do you think?”
“Could it wait a minute?” I grasped some of my hair and said, “I’d like to run a brush through this first.”
Paul took a few strands and wrapped them around his finger. “I like it. Besides, I’ve seen worse.” He dropped his hand to my wrist and gently pulled me down the front steps. “Remember when we had that mud fight?”
I laughed and slipped my hand into his. It felt comfortable as we swung our arms back and forth. “It took a week of daily washing to get all that grime out of my hair.”
“My mother and yours had their only fight over that one. I thought they’d never speak to each other again.”
We stopped next to the tree. Paul grasped my other hand, and I looked up at him, enjoying the memories we shared.
“So, do I trim out the bad stuff, or cut the whole tree down?”
This maple had shaded both our properties over the years, a wide branch once holding a swing. Some of the dead branches still held remnants of our tree house. When we dropped each other’s hands, Paul put his arm around my shoulders, and I placed my arm around his waist.
“See if you can save it,” I said. “If not, it’ll have to come down.”
Paul squeezed my shoulder and I momentarily hugged him tighter. We gazed up at the sick tree, totally unaware that Lonnie had arrived and stood behind us until he spoke.
“So, what is this?”
I turned at the unexpected voice. Lonnie stood with his arms folded across his chest, his legs spread for balance. My first thought was: What must he think? Here I’m embracing a former boyfriend, my hair looking as though I just rolled out of bed.
My second thought was: Who cares? It no longer bothered me what Lonnie thought. He wouldn’t believe what had really happened, anyway, and I had no desire to explain to him anymore. Still, I disentangled myself from Paul and walked over to where Lonnie stood.
“I wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
“I can see that. If I’d come any earlier, I’d probably have found you both in bed.”
Paul came up behind me. “Probably,” he said. A moment later, the abrasive sound of the chain saw started up again. Paul walked over to one of the fallen limbs and began to cut it up.
I motioned for Lonnie to follow me to the porch. When I reached the wooden Adirondack chair, he still hadn’t changed his stance. He glowered at Paul, who paid no attention to him at all, and then turned his defiant stare on me.
Any other time, I might’ve cringed under his glare. But that day, it didn’t bother me. I finally saw him for what he was—a
n angry person who took all his frustrations out on me.
Well, that wasn’t about to last much longer.
“You two sleeping together?” Lonnie asked when he made it to the porch.
“Of course not.”
“He said—”
“If you’d showed up earlier, you’d probably have found us in bed. Each in our own separate beds, Lonnie. Now sit down. I have something to tell you.”
Still defiant, he leaned against the porch railing and folded his arms over his chest. “You finish those invitations yet?”
“Yes, and if you care to look, they’re in the trash can. I shredded them last night.”
That remark was enough to get him off the railing to take a seat near me. “What are you talking about?” He leaned toward me, all of his insolence suddenly gone.
“The marriage is off, Lonnie. You slapped it away last night.”
“You brought it on yourself, back-talking to me that way. I’m not putting up with your snide remarks about my behavior.”
“Well, then you can thank me for not turning you into a wife-beater, Lonnie, because I’ve got plenty to say about your rotten attitude.”
His jaw tensed and his fingers balled into a tight fist. Despite my resolve to remain calm, I cringed inside. We’d been talking loudly to hear ourselves over the sound of the chain saw. Suddenly, the sound stopped.
For several seconds, Lonnie glared at me until I whispered, “I think you’d better leave.”
“You’re going to regret this, April. Once I leave, I’m never coming back.”
“Sounds like a promise,” Paul said at the bottom of the porch steps. He pointed to Lonnie’s car. “In about ten seconds, I’m going to drop the tree right on that spot.” He saluted me and walked back to the maple.
The moment the chain saw started up again, Lonnie scurried to his car. When he was gone and out of sight, Paul turned off the saw and came over to me.
“Do you have to cut it down?” I asked him.
“Naw. That tree’s still got plenty of life left in it.” He put his arm around my shoulders. “I just felt he was wearing out his welcome and needed a little nudge to get on his way.”
I grinned up at him. “Thanks, Paul.”