by Taryn Steele
“Lily, since we’re talking about the wedding I want to ask you something. Will you be my maid of honor?”
“Oh-my-god! Yes, of course I will. If you asked anyone else I’d have to kick your ass.”
I can’t help but laugh at her blunt honesty.
“Who else are you having in the bridal party?” She asks.
“Karolyn, of course. Jameson would like to have his cousin Amy because they are still close. The last bridesmaid I picked is my friend Mallory. You’ve met her before. We worked together at the drug store, average height, average weight, blonde, bob hair-cut, porcelain skin that you would die for. We still keep in touch even since she moved to New York to become a cop. Jameson doesn’t know any little ones, so I asked the parents of a little girl I babysat for who is close friends with my parents, if she’d be the flower girl. Rory is six years old, petite with dark brown eyes and long, dark brown hair to match. She’s adorable.”
LUNCH WAS GREAT.
After we said our goodbyes to Bevan and Lily and hop in the car, Jameson put the keys in the ignition but didn’t start it. He turned to the side, looked me straight in the eyes and said “Do you want to talk now or later about the living location situation?”
I was shocked about his statement at lunch. I never once considered moving even further away from my job. There was a lot to consider on both of our parts. Jameson decided to make a list.
Pros Cons
Company DiscountFar from Hillary’s job
Closer to business areas/shoppingLoss of money for gas/traveling
Houses are cheaperHouses are closer to each other
Taxes are cheaperMore town restrictions in cities
For every pro we found we also found a con. We decided to look all around the state and see what house or houses we fell in love with. The one positive we did agree on was that we had time on our side.
“I own you.”
June 3, 2002
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
June 3, 2002 08:49a.m.
Good Morning Sexy Butt,
I know you are just getting to work but it’s almost your birthday. I wanted to see if you had any thoughts on what you would like to do. Do you want to go out alone? Do you want me to call our friends and do a big dinner and go out to a restaurant of your choosing? Most importantly, what do you want for a gift?
-Romeo
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
June 3, 2002 09:09 a.m.
Good Morning,
You think I have a sexy butt do ya? Romeo? Seriously? You wrote me one poem that was three, maybe four lines long. You have to do better than that to get the title of Romeo. Ha ha!
As far as plans for my birthday goes I would love to get everyone together and go out to dinner. It’s always a good time, non-stop laughter is something I would never turn down. My birthday is on a Tuesday though. Do you want to do it for the Saturday night before or after?
A gift? NOTHING! You just bought me an engagement ring! No gift, please.
-Sexy Butt
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
June 3, 2002 09:21a.m.
I like your style
I like your class
But most of all
I like your ass.
Boom! Romeo status engaged!
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
June 3, 2002 09:33 a.m.
Alright, you made your point Romeo. Now go to sleep so I can get back to work.
xoxoxoxoxoxo
To: [email protected]
From: [email protected]
June 3, 2002 09:40 a.m.
Group dinner for the birthday girl. I’ll ask around and see which day everyone has more availability, the 8th or the 15th.
We’ll discuss the gift thing later.
Have a good day at work. I’ll call you when I wake up or I’m on my way in to work.
xoxoxoxoxo,
-Romeo
“I keep what’s mine.”
June 4, 2002
Dear (Sexy Butt) Hillary,
No words can define my love for you because you are beyond words, and my love for you is beyond measure.
Before I met you, I never knew what it was to smile for no reason.
I’m in my work truck right now. I’m looking up at the sky, staring at the stars, and I’m matching each one for reasons why I love you. I’m running out of stars.
It may be two o’clock in the morning right now but all I want is you here with me. It’s always like that. No matter what time, be in 2:00 a.m. or 2:00 p.m. No matter what day of the week, be it Sunday or Monday. Sunup or sundown. I want my lips on your lips. My skin on your skin. I want all of you.
It’s been like this ever since I first laid eyes on you. I felt breathless. Cupid’s arrow went right through my heart and bore into my soul.
I know things haven’t been easy for you. You deserve so much. You deserve the world. I know I can’t give you that, but I can give you the next best thing. My world. I don’t know what the future holds for us, or where we’ll go, but I do know as long as we’re together we’ll be just fine.
Always Yours,
Jameson
(Romeo)
“I want you out of my life!”
June 6, 2002
WE HAVE BEEN LOOKING AT HOUSES for months and we haven’t found ‘the one’ yet. We’re getting pretty anxious too. Marcie has been a complete bear lately. I don’t know what her problem is but clearly she has one. Just remembering what happened last night when we got home.
We’ve told our friends we would only go out once on the weekend, either Friday night or Saturday night but not both. We had to save our money. We’ve been good about it too. Whatever night we stay in we usually hang out in the living room with Marcie and watch television.
This Friday night we were going out to celebrate Christian’s birthday. When we got in it was around 11:30 p.m. Marcie was still awake, lounging in her usual spot at the far end of the reclining couch. She wouldn’t acknowledge us. Not even to bark at us about taking our shoes off.
“Hey, Ma,” Jameson says.
She just keeps staring straight ahead at the television.
“Ma! I said hi!” Jameson says louder.
She turns her head, looks at us and turns back to the television.
“Ma. What is going on? Did something happen? What’s your deal?”
“You know, it’s lonely here. It would be nice if you guys invited me out with you and your friends once in a while.” She replies.
Is she fucking serious? She wants us to invite her out with us and our friends because she’s lonely and won’t go out to make her own friends at fifty something years old? This has got to be a joke.
“Ma, if you’re lonely why don’t you go out with people your own age? Plus we only go out once a week. Other than that we stay in here and most nights watch TV with you. Why don’t you go to more of the get-togethers the management office has for the residents? Go meet people your own age.”
“I’m going to take a shower.” Marcie replies, sternly.
I give Jameson that “what the fuck” look. As Marcie slams the bathroom door shut we realize we still have our coats on.
“Jameson. She has got to be fucking kidding right? Because she is so hard to get along with she expects us to take her out with us and our friends? Our friends don’t even like her anymore because she has become so mean over the last few months. She is fifty something years old. It is not our responsibility to fulfill her social life. That is just bullshit for her to put that on us like that.”
“I know. You’re right. I’m gonna talk to her. Let’s go put our pajamas on and watch a little TV while I wait for her to get out of the bathroom.”
I followed him to his room and closed the door behind me. As he walked around his bed he pushed the on button on his televi
sion, grabbed the remote and sat on his bed. I didn’t say a word. I just stood there and watched him for a minute. He sat upright on his bed, one leg hanging off to the side. I could see the frustration on his face, in his eyes and his mouth. He was squinting his eyes, he was biting the bottom corner of his lip. He was upset, but with who? Was he upset with Marcie because of her childish behavior and guilt trip? Was he upset with me for wanting to go out? Was he upset with himself? I couldn’t tell.
He was clearly bothered because for a short moment I was standing in his room completely naked and he didn’t even notice. I grabbed his Minnesota Vikings jersey and put it on. I walked over to the bed and just stood there watching him some more. He finally noticed me.
“Nice shirt.” He says.
“Thanks. I like how it smells like you. I might have to keep it.”
He reaches out his hand for me to join him on the bed. I rest my head on his chest and wrap my arm around his waist. No words. Just my way of letting him know I’m here for him.
About half an hour later we heard the bathroom door open. I picked my head up off Jameson’s chest and looked at him for a response. He looked down at me and rested his head back down. He didn’t say anything. He just let out a long, frustrated sigh.
“Maybe you should just wait until tomorrow to talk to her. Let her sleep on it and you too. It’s late.” I tell him.
He lets out another frustrated sigh. “Yeah, I guess.” He responds.
“I’ll go home early. Leave you two alone to chat.”
“No. I don’t want you to go home. You don’t have to.” He exclaims.
“Sssshhhh! It’s okay. I have a feeling my name is going to be brought up. You can’t tell me you haven’t noticed how her attitude has changed towards me since we got engaged.” I remind him. “I’m not trying to start shit, Jameson. I’m just pointing out the facts.”
“I know. I know. She’s not being fair, and it’s not cool. If I talk to her now I’ll probably blow up and I don’t have the energy for that right now.”
“Exactly. Get out of your clothes and cuddle with me under the covers.” I tell him.
And that is exactly what we did.
June 7, 2002
There’s something bright shining on my face. There is also something poking me in the butt. I can’t help but giggle. Jameson wraps his arm over me and pulls me closer to him. He moans softly in my ear while laying gentle kisses on the back of my neck. His goatee prickling my skin sending happy shivers down my spine.
“That sun is seriously bright this morning. What time is it?” I ask.
“Yeah it is. Clock says 9:17.”
“I could stay in bed with you all day. I’m so comfortable. I don’t want to get up.” I tell him.
“So don’t. We don’t have to be anywhere. We’ll only get up to eat and pee. We’ll watch movies. I’ll hold you tight. Kiss your neck, kiss under your ear lobe where it really turns you on. My hands will massage all over your sinfully beautiful body.”
“Mm! That sounds perfect but you’re forgetting something. That awesome talk with your mom you get to have. I have to get up and get the fuck out of here to somewhere safe.” I say smiling. “I’m going to take a shower and then I am outta here.”
When I open the door I don’t hear any noise. I find that oddly strange because Marcie is always here in the morning. Whether she is reading the newspaper at the table, watching TV or cleaning, she’s always here, but today she isn’t. I shrug my shoulders and give myself a mental ‘whatever’, take off my jewelry and hop in the shower.
I think I hear voices outside of the bathroom, so I pause for a moment so I can determine if it’s Marcie or not. It’s mumbled but it’s female. It must be her. I take a deep breath and say a silent prayer to myself that I can get out of the apartment without any uncomfortable interactions. I hear a quick knock on the door immediately followed by a cold draft. “It’s just me Marcie. Don’t mind me. Just quickly brushing my hair.”
Holy fuck I’m naked in here. I know this is her apartment but this is really uncomfortable.
“Uh, okay.” I reply awkwardly. A short moment later I felt another cold draft and heard the door shut. I pull back the shower curtain to take a peek and she is gone. Phew! Once I finish rinsing out my conditioner I shut the water off, squeeze out the water from hair, pull back the shower curtain and grab a towel to wrap around my hair. I grab a second towel, quickly pat my body then wrap it around myself and step out. I’m trying to listen to what is going on the opposite side of the door to determine when is a good time to get out so I can dart across the hall in to Jameson’s bedroom so I can get dressed. After a few short moments it sounds like the coast is clear and most of the noise I hear sounds like its coming from the kitchen area. I open the door as quietly and possible and leap across the hall, push myself in to the room and close the door.
As I’m getting dressed the bedroom door opens. It’s Jameson. My overnight bag is on the bed and I’m packing up my clothes to head home. He stands there just looking at me with a sad puppy dog face. He bows his head a little, looks up at me with his eyes and pushes out his bottom lip. I can’t help but laugh. I pick up my bag off the bed, sling it over my shoulder, grab Jameson’s hand and walk out to head home.
Marcie is in the bathroom washing her hands with the door open. She doesn’t acknowledge me, so I keep walking the short distance to the front door. I drop my bag on the floor, slip my shoes on and pull Jameson in to a tight hug.
“Call me later, okay?” I request.
“Of course. I’ll take care of the talk, shower, then I’ll call you.”
“Excuse me. Hillary, did you take a shower this morning?” Marcie exclaims coming from the bathroom.
“I did, why?”
“The mat in there is all wet.” She tells me.
Anger rises up inside me, and the words tumble out of my mouth before I can stop them. “Okay, but correct me if I’m wrong isn’t that what a bathroom mat is for? Stepping on to it when you get out of the shower?”
“Well. You should dry your feet off before getting out of the shower.” She replies.
I am peeved. I look at Jameson, roll my eyes, open the door and leave. What did I ever do to this woman? Why is treating me like this? It’s not fair. I was so happy when I first met her. It was so easy talk to her. She seemed to relate to me, to understand me where as my own mother didn’t. It’s not like that anymore. I feel as if she resents me for some reason. But why? Because I’m marrying her son, her only child? Doesn’t she want him to be happy? Does she think that he will live with her for the rest of his life to fulfill hers because she has no social game?
For the rest of the drive home I repeat to myself that I won’t let this ruin my thoughts. I will enjoy my time with Grandma and whatever else my time alone brings. Hopefully some peace and quiet … and laundry … I need to do some laundry later. If shit goes bad with Jameson’s talk with Marcie I bet I could convince him out of guilt to do my laundry for me. Nah, that wouldn’t work, and he sucks at laundry. Dishes he can handle, laundry he cannot.
Driving down the highway I hear an old favorite song of mine, “Joyride” by Roxette. I turn up the volume and start tapping my hands to the beat on the steering wheel. Seconds in to the song my heart stops when I realize I don’t have my engagement ring on. Panic instantly sets in. Where the hell is it? I run through my morning in my head as I continue to drive down the long, boring, woodsy stretch of highway. Fifteen miles later when I get off of my exit I pull off to the side of the road to call Jameson about my ring. As much as I don’t want to, in fear that he’ll be pissed off at me, I don’t have much of a choice.
“Hello?”
“Babe, I’m freaking out! I can’t find my engagement ring! I had it this morning – I was in such a rush to get out with your mom knit picking at me. I –”
“Whoa. Take a breath. Calm down. Tell me where you had it last and I’ll go look.” He calms me.
“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m
kind of flipping out here. I had it on last night. I had it on this morning in bed because you were twirling it around my finger. Remember? Then I… Oh-my-god! The bathroom Jameson!” I shout. “I took it off when I was in the shower. I remember rushing out of there because your mom came in when I was in there and it creeped me out.”
“Stay on the phone. I’ll go in there now.”
I let out a deep breath of relief. I was scared for nothing. I’m such an airhead.
“Hil, the ring isn’t in here.”
“What? It has to be! I took it off before I got in the shower and left it on the sink with my bracelet and necklace. I always take my jewelry off before I go in the shower. It has to be there Jameson!” I shout in fright.
“Do me a favor. Relax and take a deep breath. I can hear cars whizzing by you and I don’t want anyone to slam in to you. Go home and I’ll keep looking around here. It’s probably in my room. I’ll call you when I find it. Okay?”
“Okay. You promise to call me as soon as you find it?” I ask with an unstable breath.
“I promise.”
AROUND 4:00 P.M. JAMESON TEXTS me to tell me he’s on his way to my house. While I wait for him I go downstairs and see what my dad is doing.
As I round the corner in to the garage where he does all of his work I see him covered in saw dust, safety goggles on and a pencil behind his left ear.
“Hey, Dad. Watcha working on?”
“Anastasia wants one of those windmills Grandpa makes. The one where when the wind blows and it makes the old farmer look likes he’s cutting a log of wood?” He tells me.
“Oh yeah, I love that one. Grandma and Grandpa still have one in the front yard.”
“Yep, but since Grandpa’s stroke he doesn’t make them anymore and since she’s Grandpa’s cousin I told her I would try to do it.”
“Well, good thing you’re handy like him. I’m sure it’ll come out great. You know if he hears about it he’ll take a walk up here to make sure you do it just like him.”