“Laughing after sex is never a great thing, honey,” I whispered back.
Kissing my ear he said, “I wasn’t laughing at you, I’m sorry. I was thinking about what we were talking about before. Liza’s loser becoming a pirate. What the hell does that mean; she thinks he’s a pirate?”
“Yeah, it is kind of funny. He does reenactments of pirates, I guess. And the pirate group he’s in all hang out in their pirate garb at the bar and pretend to be pirates together. It could be sexy, you never know.”
Chris chuckled again. “Sexy, I’m not sure about. Silly ass grown men dressed as pirates hanging out at the bar is not what I would think of as sexy, but I guess if you are Johnny Depp, you can be sexy wearing anything.” He had a point.
“I don’t think he has to be wearing anything to be sexy. Johnny Depp, I mean, not this loser pirate guy. But I’m sure for me he couldn’t do what you just did,” I said as I gently massaged his shoulders.
“So what else did you all do tonight besides fantasize about sexy pirates?”
“We went to the old pool I’ve told you about near her house,” I paused. “And Will was there.” I told Chris every immature thing Will had said to me and how uncomfortable I was. Chris was so secure in our relationship, he’d always been fine with the friendship Will and I had over the years. But since I lived halfway across the country, I almost never saw Will, even if we did talk on the phone weekly. I’m sure if I saw him more, Chris might not have understood why we remained close friends. I knew I wouldn’t want Chris to be close to an ex-girlfriend.
“Nikki, I’m sure he was just playing around and joking with you. Did he even get in the pool?”
“No, he didn’t, but men should know not to even joke with another woman if they are in a committed relationship. I mean he’s about to get married! It’s just not right. I’m sure Rebecca’s not out hitting on old boyfriends. I’m not even sure if I should go to this wedding. I don’t want to make her uncomfortable at her own wedding. I know Will doesn’t love me anymore, and I’m not a threat to their relationship. But I wouldn’t have wanted an ex of yours at our wedding.” My thoughts drifted to our wedding. Chris drifted to sleep. We got married in Vegas. In a sleepy state I remembered the dress, the minister, and my father walking me down the aisle. There was no rehearsal, so we practically ran down a twenty five foot aisle, and within ten minutes, Chris and I were married. We celebrated our wedding evening with lots of sex, on the couch by the window, on the bed, and in the shower. I guess we made up early for the years of parenting that would come later where sex only happened in taboo places or not at all. We never saw it coming. But it happens to many married couples with kids; or at least it’s what we hear. Who knows, really? Maybe all of our friends are getting it every day and laughing at us because we always talk about how we don’t have the time or energy. Sleep came easily for me, but I was starting to feel a bit down and yet nostalgic at the same time. I had dreams of rope swings tied to big trees, small twigs sticking up from the ground becoming trees tall enough to overtake an entire house, a hammock tied between two pines, and a little girl watching the birds eating seeds from the pine cones above her. Meadows, blue skies, and flowers turned to salt water pools and naïve girls giggling. My mind was opening and letting in the past.
Chapter Four
The next day was a blur. Chris and I took advantage of the beautiful weather and took the kids to Williamsburg for a history lesson not quite at the level of a three year old and a thirteen month old, but they both enjoyed watching the Clydesdales. Chris even splurged for a carriage ride for us all. If anything, we got some great pictures for the scrapbooks I thought I might actually have time to work on one day.
The wind howled, and in the afternoon, dark clouds covered Williamsburg and turned it into an eerie place full of ghosts and unspoken history. We left after a quick lunch and a trip into the candy store for salt water taffy and headed back to Deltaville. Our life was back to normal; we were on a family vacation. I was feeling a bit more settled. Though with each new look around, I’d see more change. A house a friend from school lived in while growing up was now an insurance office; a tiny grocery store that had been around since the early 1900s had burned to the ground; and there was still a burnt wood pile on the ground. Back at the house, the walls in my father’s home hadn’t been painted in many years. The carpet needed to be replaced. Nana had a huge pile of ants living in her family room, and no one seemed to notice until I saw them crawling around and followed their trail. Things seem to be aging because time moves on and because people don’t have the time they once had to fix things as they break. It was very hard for me to get past. I loved the trees in Daddy’s yard. They were beautiful. Back home in Colorado, I took photos all the time of huge hardwood trees that had been standing tall for more than a hundred years. I was always making up stories surrounding the unknown history of an old tree. I usually guessed where property lines were many years ago before Denver took off; back when it was farmland and one family owned and farmed the land for miles, or at least until the next big tree line. Back in Colorado it was fun to imagine the history of old trees, and I had so much fun looking into the life and history of them. But back in Virginia, I knew the history of the trees, and it made me feel incredibly sad for some reason.
Sunday came quickly. We had to be at the beach for the wedding at one o’clock. I decided to take the kids with us to the wedding. It’s hard to tell a child they will miss an opportunity to play on a beach on a beautiful Sunday afternoon. Especially if those children are used to flat lands and “play sand” in the middle of the country nowhere near a beach. I figured if they became unruly, Chris could always take them for a walk down the beach, and they could skip rocks into the York River. It took us about forty five minutes to get to the beach, after the two hours at Dad’s house getting the girls dressed and ready to leave the house. It took about twenty minutes to locate Emily’s favorite stuffed bunny she had named Goon Goon. We got the bunny for her when she was four months old at her pediatrician’s recommendation. She had not been sleeping through the night. She was awake about six times a night wanting me to nurse her each time she awoke, so we got her something to hug and hold throughout the night. The idea, of course, was she would wake up, find her bunny friend in the crib with her, and the warmth and comfort her bunny friend offered would help her drift back to sleep. What really happened was she would find her bunny friend in her crib, hold it up in the air, and scream until I came into the room to get her. Then I’d have to nurse and rock baby Emily while trying to keep the bunny from falling away from her little body. I learned several tricks to catch the bunny or grab the fallen bunny with my feet and bring it back to where she lay against my breast. For almost two years, we just called the little pink thing Bunny. When Emily was a little over two years old, she started calling him Goon Goon. When Emily turned three; Goon Goon went through the change and became a girl bunny. Chris and I still called it he, every so often, and Emily was always there to correct us. Goon Goon went everywhere with us. And we were lucky she made it everywhere. She was under the bathroom sink lying under a towel. When we finally found her, I was very close to telling Emily Goon Goon would have to stay at Pop-Pop’s house while we went to the beach wedding, but Chris lucked out and just happened to look in the cabinet. As soon as he found her, Emily came running out with Goon Goon and said, “She was sleepy, so I tucked her in the towels, so she could get a little rest.” She said it like she knew where the bunny was the whole time, and Chris and I were playing a little game of hide and seek with this stuffed bunny. It was those things which made life with a three year old so frustrating and yet so damned cute and sweet at the same time.
Bella managed to get dirt on her pretty dress as we were getting in the car, but she didn’t mind. Wiping out on what was once the driveway upset her more than the bit of dirt on the front of her dress. I wondered why I couldn’t get my family out of the house in one clean piece without some trauma. The whole forty
five minute drive to the wedding, Emily had to watch Cinderella on the iPad in the car. I’m not sure what life was like when I was a kid without all these great tech toys to play with. I remember sitting on the floor board of my parents’ car, pushing on their seats and talking with them while playing BINGO on the floor. Today, kids are strapped into some kind of car seat until they are almost in junior high it seems, so they have activities they can do sitting still and confined. Mine watch TV if they were in the car for any length of time. And because we were going to a wedding, Emily had to watch ‘Cinderelly’. She was so excited to go to the ball after the wedding. Yep, she was three and believed after every wedding there must be lots of people dancing at a ball to welcome the new prince and princess, the wedding couple, to their castle. I wasn’t sure if she would be disappointed when she saw two pretty normal people standing on a beach for a few minutes and then a big beach bon fire party afterwards. I did promise she could dance, and hopefully the beach would excite her enough to forget the castle we should be in.
“Daddy, will you be my prince?” Emily asked from the back seat when we were driving over the York River Bridge. “I can see beaches, Mommy! Beaches there and over there and lots of beaches. Bella, that’s a beach.” Emily, having given up the movie, was excited about the beaches she could see from the top of the bridge.
“Maybe Daddy will let you dance on his feet,” I said, looking at my husband, silently saying, you must dance with her, and her standing on your feet would be the best way.
“Yeah, we can dance together, Emily. Will you be my princess?” Chris took my bait and let his little princess know they could dance off into the sunset if it’s what would make her happy.
I pointed to the road Chris needed to take to actually get to the beach. We could see the beaches from the bridge, but they all seemed impossible to get to. I noticed new condos near the beach and directed Chris to the one hotel on the beach.
“Will said to park at the hotel, and they will direct us to the area of the beach where the wedding will be. But my guess is it will be right there, under the big tent,” I said to Chris as I pointed to the hotel.
People were gathering around the large white and blue tent. “Not exactly what I think of when I think of wedding, but at least it’s not green like at funerals,” I said quietly.
The service started within minutes of our arrival. We took our seats on the groom’s side, we assumed since it wasn’t as full as the other side of the aisle. Will looked stunning at the edge of the water in cream colored linen pants, no shoes, and a light cream colored button down shirt. His bride met him wearing a long cream colored linen dress flowing behind her with the help of the light breeze. She, too, was shoeless. And she fit Will perfectly. She was pretty, yet simple, earthy yet pure, and clean. I wanted to watch Will say his vows, to see how he looked at his bride, to see the love in his eyes, but I couldn’t keep my eyes off her. Will’s bride. The woman Will was marrying and pledging his love to for the rest of his life. There was something so innocent and pure about her. I was creating closure somehow, watching her. She looked like she could be a friend, someone I could talk to, share with. I felt a peace wash over me. I was happy for Will. And I was okay being here. Finally, okay.
It was a beautiful and short beach wedding. I held Chris’ hand tight when they said their vows. He was watching Emily and Bella playing in the sand at his feet and didn’t notice the tear run down my cheek when I heard Bo, the man standing in front of Will and Rebecca, say the words, ‘let no man put asunder.’ I’m not sure if I was crying because I cried at my own wedding, I cried at commercials portraying weddings, or because I knew the groom was a man I used to love. I did love. I loved dearly, but in so many different ways than the man whose hand I held while he gently made our children quietly giggle under the chairs.
So many years ago, Yorktown Beach saw a lot of Will and me. We explored the water, the rocks, the sand, and each other many times on this beach. We broke up on this beach, we made up on this beach. He poured his heart out to me, describing the emptiness he felt when he saw a beautiful red hanging moon and the fullness he felt when he thought of me and of our love. I remembered sitting on the beach pushing sand between my toes resting my chin on my knees listening to him, loving him more with each word. In his poetic way, he often tried to tell me he could never be who I needed and wanted him to be. He knew I wanted to be married with children. He knew I wanted a home, security, and stability. He knew he couldn’t provide any of those things playing music for a living, and he knew he never wanted to be married. Now there he was marrying a woman who filled the emptiness he must have felt.
My thoughts were interrupted by the cheering. I missed the first kiss gazing into the past, and when the present hit me, it hit me with a pile of sand on my feet. Emily was building a sand castle, and I was in the way. I wiped a tear from my cheek, smiled down at her, and regained my composure. Chris looked at me, and knowing me as well as he did, put his arm around my shoulder, pulling me close to him, and kissed the top of my head. I was sure he did so to offer comfort for me, but also to protect me from my own pain. Maybe it was my husband’s way of staking his claim to me. Chris knew I loved him. Will and I had had a strong friendship over the years since breaking up.
It was another thirty minutes before we saw the bride and groom. We spent the time dancing barefoot in the sand with the girls, taking pictures of Emily and her Daddy Prince dancing feet on feet and collecting pebbles and small shells from the beach. Bella was such a little doll walking while holding my hand across the slippery sand, falling down, and trying again. At thirteen months old, she wasn’t the best walker, but she had such a great spirit and would try and try again until she was exhausted. Then she would usually wail until we could soothe her with her ‘soft blankie,’ as Emily calls Bella’s fluffy pink baby blanket. By the time Will and Rebecca came around to say hello, we were all ready to get the kids in the car and head back to my dad’s house. I hugged Will, mumbled something about being very happy for them, shook Rebecca’s hand, forced an obligatory hug, and told her what every bride wants to hear about her beautiful gown and ceremony.
“I love you, smallcakes, my Nikki Jay,” Will whispered into my ear. “You deserve the best, and the best wasn’t me. But I love you so much, and I will always need you. Please remember that. I will always need you.” I managed to wink at him, fighting back a tear or two, and gave our excuse for leaving so early, and then walked away without feeling a thing. Nothing. Numbness was a new emotion for me. Or maybe I was feeling things I didn’t want to feel. Sadness is an overwhelming emotion. I’ve heard people say they see their life flash before their eyes in times of fear like a car accident or a sudden heart attack. I was feeling the loss of my life at a young age. Coming home again to see grass grown too long, moss on the side of houses, paint peeling from years of neglect, old friends getting older but not wiser, and facing the realization I just can’t go back. Not back home and not back in time. The realization that I was on a path I loved but was completely different and far from this place I used to feel was home, was overwhelming. On top of feeling nothingness surround me, I also felt I couldn’t breathe. The world so vast surrounding me, the sky, the birds, the York River within reach was all closing in on me. Luckily, I was able to sink into the car, though I have no idea how I even made the walk from the beach.
Chris navigated away from the hotel parking lot, put his hand on my knee, and squeezed my leg in a protective fashion. “Was it as hard as it looked for you?” Chris asked me with a curiosity I’d never felt when talking about Will.
“Yes, it was hard. But I don’t know why, Chris. A combination of being home, Will acting the way he did the other night, and being at a wedding I probably shouldn’t have come to. I don’t know. I didn’t invite him to our wedding. I’m not sure it was the best idea for me to come to his. It just feels weird.” I put my hand on his. “Hon, don’t get me wrong. I’m not feeling this way because I have feelings for him. It’s just
odd; that’s all. I can’t explain it any further than that.” I blinked back more tears.
I closed my eyes, and memories rushed in. Suddenly, I was eighteen again. All those times I sat on this beach waiting for the moon to shine over us, wanting to be as close to Will as possible, absorbing every word he said. Going back in time is impossible, yet there I sat with no children, no husband, and naïve to the loss love eventually brings.
***
Will was sitting with me, looking nineteen again, handsome with a face filled with wonder and innocence. This was the time in life when things were simple. Will touched my hand and asked me if I could find pictures in the stars above. I looked up and was surprised to see a dark sky. Looking back at him, I nodded.
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