Brent, looking breathtakingly handsome in a dark tailored suit, stands in front of the Justice of the Peace. To the side of him is a beaming Nate, who serves as best man. On the giant screen behind them is the most beautiful scene of a tropical beach, golden sand, rippling crystal blue waters, and gently swaying palms, all under the setting sun. He remembered that I wanted to be married on a tropical island! I reach Brent, mesmerized by his rugged handsomeness, as well as the knowledge that he will soon be my husband. Mallory Grayson. I’m going to be Mallory Grayson in about five minutes! Oh, my god! My hands tremble, and I feel a sudden urge to cry with giddiness.
The Justice of the Peace begins the brief service, and I barely have time to register the words he’s saying before he proclaims us husband and wife. Brent’s lips crash down upon mine, and I’m quick to return his kiss.
“Wait!” Iris shouts after snapping a few pictures for us. Brent tosses a confused look in my direction, and I shrug because I have no clue what’s going on. “Reception time!” she calls from the end of the aisle. “Trevor’s opened the concession stand.” Laughing, Brent and I walk hand in hand down the main theater aisle, ducking to avoid the shower of popcorn that our few guests toss in lieu of rice.
We share a piece of cake, down a few sodas, and even dance our first dance to the very same cassette radio I used to listen to when I worked concessions. As we’re leaving, I stop to thank Trevor, and he shoves an envelope into my hand. “Welcome to the family, Mallory.” I throw my arms around his neck, kiss his cheek, then follow my husband to our waiting car. My jaw drops. Inflated condoms and streamers adorn every square inch of the vehicle.
“What the…,” I mumble. Brent simply stares at the hideous monstrosity.
“I might have told the guys that you were getting married,” Nate says before whooping with laughter. “This is so much better than I thought they’d do!”
“You will pay,” Brent says with condemnation mixed with a touch of amusement.
“Look at how scared I am,” Nate taunts.
“You suck.”
“Have a great honeymoon. Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” Nate says, jumping into the driver’s seat of his sports car. He honks his horn a couple of times as he pulls from the parking lot, shoves his hand out of the opened window, sticks his finger high in the air, and then waves as he disappears down the street. First, I give Iris a quick hug, then Mom, and then Uncle Trevor before quickly taking time to thank them for being part of my special day. Certain it can’t get any better, I’m proven wrong when Brent whisks me away to one of the most astounding places I’ve ever seen. Huge white columns mark the entrance of the regal hotel, and oriental rugs, sparkling chandeliers, and rich, dark wood furniture fill the lobby. My brain is on overload trying to take in all of the beautiful sights. I’m treated like royalty by the staff, and I think to myself for half a second that I can get used to it.
Considering the beauty of the place, the preferential treatment, and the unending list of amenities, I dread to think how much the extravagant honeymoon suite has set us back. “Brent!” I gasp, and a smug grin appears on his face after the bellman leaves.
“You like?” I nod because words fail me. “You deserve the best, Mallory. It might be rough for us down the road, but tonight we’re going to live in the lap of luxury.”
“I don’t know what to say.” Tears well in my eyes.
Brent, with the slight limp he gets when he’s spent more time than he should on his feet, makes his way to me. “No need to say anything, my Triple P.”
Smiling up at him, I cup his cheeks while bringing his mouth to mine. The kiss deepens, and Brent moans against my lips. “My wife. Finally.”
“I doubted this day would ever happen. I still don’t understand why you chose me.” Running his fingers across my back, he begins unbuttoning the long row of pearl beads that line my spine.
“What is there to question? You’re smart, beautiful, kind, caring, loving, you put up with my shit…” Brent laughs as he spins me around to pull my body flush against his. His breath tickles my ear. “Mrs. Grayson, please never doubt my love for you. I regret not standing up to my father long ago. It wasn’t fair to you, and though I thought what I was doing was right, I now know it wasn’t. I asked way too much of you. Forgive me?” He nuzzles my neck before sliding the dress down my shoulders.
“Let’s not look back anymore, okay? Only forward.”
He visibly relaxes. “You’re too good for me.”
Any uncertainty I felt before the wedding evaporates as he peppers soft kisses along my spine. This isn’t supposed to be happening to me. I’m the girl nobody wanted. People like me aren’t supposed to get the guy, yet here he is, loving me. Appreciating me. Me! A sated sigh escapes my lips.
“What?” Kneeling, he peeks his head around my waist.
“It’s all surreal. I’ve gotten the fairytale that girls like me dream about.”
“What do you mean, ‘girls like you'?”
“You know…” I wave my hand up and down the length of my body.
He drops to sit on the floor. “I thought we were finished with this, Mallory?”
“What! No! I was just trying to say that I…”
He holds his palm out to me, and once my hand is in his, he pulls me to sit beside him on the plush rug. Supporting my neck, he uses his free hand to gently guide me to lie beside him. His first tender kiss lands on my forehead. “Why did you turn my head all those years ago? Why do I find you the most gorgeous woman in the world and not any of the others? I don’t know, and I don’t care. I decided long ago that no matter what, you and I were going to be together. I also knew it was going to be very tough for us, but we’d make it.” He kisses my cheek. “My biggest fear was that you wouldn’t think it was worth it all to be with me.”
“Never.” His lips leave my cheek and rest upon my lips to silence me. Once he pulls away, he trails kisses along the ridge of my collarbone.
“I made some bad decisions before, and as much as I’d like to, I can’t go back in time to change them.” His stubble prickles as he drags his chin along the valley of my breasts. “We are where we’re supposed to be, and exactly where I want to be. You’re happy, aren’t you?”
“More than you’ll ever know.”
“I might not be able to give you beautiful jewelry, a huge house, or a fancy car, but I’m going to try my best to give you a good life. Together, you and I are going to conquer the world.”
I lose myself in his touch. “You’re too good for me, Brent.”
“No, Mallory, no. I’ll never be good enough for you.”
PART II
FOURTEEN
Sixteen Years Later
“What? Am I not good enough for Her Royal Highness, anymore? Dammit, I’m doing the best I can,” Brent barks out as I cram two sandwiches into a paper lunch sack.
“Mom! David gets two sandwiches, and I get none!” Four-year-old Troy screams at the top of his lungs while crocodile tears stain his cheeks. David, his identical twin, shrugs his shoulders.
“I can share,” David offers.
“No one has to share!” I shout, slapping open a fresh bag and pulling out the extra sandwich to place it correctly.
“Dad, Mom called you a loser,” Natalie, our sixteen-year old shit-stirrer says with a smirk.
“I in no way called your father a loser, missy. Aren’t you going to be late for school?” I ask, rolling the lunch sacks closed.
“I didn’t get any chips! David got chips!” Troy screams, and the waterworks run full flow once again.
“I’m only late because stupid Grace is hogging up the bathroom. I’m not going to say out right that you should inquire about her sudden overuse of bathroom tissue in areas other than intended, but perhaps you should consider monitoring said usage because, well…”
Thirteen-year old Grace cheerily bounces down the stairs and all goes silent as our eyes rest upon her. Even Troy takes a break from pitching his fit to stare w
ide-eyed at her suddenly gargantuan breasts.
“Handle it,” Brent says, tossing his hands into the air.
“I’m trying to get the twins ready for pre-school drop off.”
“I’ll take the twins; you handle…it.” Brent nods his head in Grace’s direction, and I draw in a deep breath through my nose. Natalie’s devious smile serves as forewarning of a vicious tirade on the tip of her tongue. Trying to stop it before it starts, I point up the stairwell.
“Bathroom’s free now. Get up there, and make it quick.”
“Dad!” She crosses her arms and purses her dark red lips in a pout.
“She’s right. Get up there, and for goodness sakes, take some of that crap off your face.” Brent steps over David, who is glued to his iPad, to get to the portion of the counter that has his whistle, car keys, and gym bag. Tossing the whistle over his neck, he shoves the two lunch bags between his teeth, laces the bag’s straps over his arm, and takes one hand of each of the twins. “She shaw show shool shen…” I place my hands under each of the lunch sacks hanging from his mouth, and he opens wide to drop them into my waiting palms. “I’ll see you later at the school. Game in Littlefield, so don’t expect me home until around ten or so. You’re not coming, I suppose?”
I shove the sacks back into his mouth. “I have essays to grade, Natalie has a date, and Grace needs new shoes. The twins will go nuts if they aren’t in bed by eight-thirty, plus I…” He doesn’t even stop to hear the rest, but simply grunts at Troy to open the door to the garage, then nudges at David to shut it behind them. I turn my attention back to Grace.
“Sweetheart, I know you’re at an age where many of your classmates are going through some pretty significant changes. While some may be a little more developed than others, it’s not reason for one of you to feel the need…”
“So I overstuffed?” She pulls handfuls of wadded up toilet tissue from her bra and deposits them onto the counter. “Better?” I look at the lopsided mess before me, then close my eyes before shaking my head.
“Ha! Grace looks like she got half of her genes from you and half from Dad! I hate to know what kind of disaster is happening down below!” Natalie teases while pointing and guffawing at her sister.
“Shut it, Natalie. Go to school. Now.” I try making my voice as assertive as possible. I see the gears spinning in her head as she contemplates challenging me. Lucky for her, she heeds my advice, grabs her backpack, and makes for the door. Grace is still digging around inside her bra to make sure she’s retrieved all of the pieces of tissue.
“If I don’t get boobs by the time I’m fifteen, can I get breast augmentation?”
“What? No! And what do you know about breast augmentation?”
“Breasts are everywhere, Mom.” I look off for a second. She’s right.
“No augmentation. You will develop when and how you’re supposed to develop. Are you riding with me today?”
“No, Chrissy’s mom is coming to get me.”
“Shit! Natalie! Who’s she riding with?” I peek out the window just in time to see the huge black pickup truck driving away. Kyle. Even though I recite the name mentally, the disdain I feel whenever I think of him still pours through in the tone. Sighing heavily, I snatch up my satchel, a sack lunch of my own, kiss Grace atop the head, and make my way to the garage. I toss everything into the passenger seat of my older model SUV. Slumping my forehead against the steering wheel, I retrace the steps I’ve taken to get to where I am today.
Law school was a great path for Brent to pursue even after we married. It was THE PLAN. At least it was until the reality of having to pay for law school hit. My measly beginning teacher’s salary was barely enough to keep us fed and with a roof over our heads. Brent dropped out after the second semester and accepted a job as head football coach at the high school where I teach English, our alma mater. Funny how things came around full circle. The place I couldn’t stand to be now employs me. Four children later, and the fairytale is over. Ecstasy no longer has anything to do with sex and comes in the form of extra sleep once a week. The only dream we have is that his car holds up until we can scrape together enough money to pay off Grace’s braces before we jump into a car note.
Brent never reconciled with his father, and it would be awkward even if he wished to do so being that his father was found guilty of tax evasion and a slew of other white-collar charges. Karma bit him in the ass hard, and I’m glad Brent was away from it all when it happened. He’s still sitting in some minimum security prison and will likely die there, penniless and alone.
Nate lives the life that he desired—professional football hero with a fan base that extends globally. It would be easy to be bitter if he weren’t so damned kind-hearted and good-natured. Natalie is named for him, and he is godfather to all of our children. He spoils them with extravagant gifts for birthdays and Christmas, and even though he’s incredibly busy, he makes time to call often enough to keep abreast of their daily lives. They love it when he pops in for a surprise visit. Brent and I often lose our shit; it’s embarrassing having to run the “good plunger” upstairs to unclog the toilet that hasn’t flushed right since the twins figured out that stuff disappears down the hole if they tug the handle. The last visit might very well be just that, the LAST visit, being that Nate woke up minus one eyebrow with Troy standing over him holding one of Natalie’s lady shavers. Nate took it in good stride, but Brent left the house and didn’t come back until nearly dinner time.
He’s been doing that a lot more lately, checking out for long periods of time. I don’t suspect him of cheating, but something is wrong. I feel it in my gut, but whenever I ask, I get the brush off. Iris and I remain the best of friends, and she, and her husband, Howard, (yes, THAT Howard) live a few blocks away. They think Brent and I are nuts for having so many children, and even when I point out to her that the twins were unexpected, she simply shrugs while shaking her head. I envy them a lot of the time, especially when I get the call to water the plants while they’re in Spain, or Japan, or Fiji. My life is full, and I’ve never been materialistic, but damn, a freaking trip somewhere besides the supermarket or the zoo would be a welcome adventure.
Brent and I argue a lot. The kids take advantage of it. They are rotten little scavenging monsters, but I’d never give them up in a million years. However, I often wonder if Brent and I would be in a better place if we didn’t live in a mad house. We don’t care anymore. He burps and farts without shame, and the sad thing is, so do I. Gone are the days of waking early to brush my teeth. Gone are the days of his constant showering after doing anything physical just so I won’t have to smell his stinky sweat. Gone are the days of closing the bathroom door when showering or anything else, and since he witnessed me giving birth, there isn’t a damn thing he’s ever walked in on that has left me feeling embarrassed.
The romance is gone, unless I count a last minute box of chocolates and a half-dead rose on Valentine’s evening as romance. Or a dinner out at the local steakhouse chain for our anniversary, IF we have a coupon. Or the lack of birthday surprises. Those disappeared after Grace was born. Don’t get me wrong; I know there’s far more to romance than material things. I’ve tried sexy lingerie, I’ve tried leaving love notes, and I’ve tried opening a dialogue. All I get is, “I’m really worn out,” or “We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?”
I’m startled out of my thoughts when Grace bangs on the driver’s window. “Chrissy’s mom is coming to get me tomorrow. I got the days of the week messed up. Will you bring me to school, Mom?” Ah, my Grace. She’s anything but full of grace. She’s my accident-prone, soft-hearted, intelligent, yet common-sense-lacking child. She’s also model gorgeous with long blonde hair and ocean-blue eyes. She’s slow in maturing, physically and emotionally, and I’m fine with that. Once she blossoms, I will undoubtedly lose her to a sea of lustful boys whom I will be tempted to murder.
“Sure, but I’ll have to speed. I’m late.”
“Okay, I won’t tell Dad,” she
says, buckling up.
“I’ve never told you to keep things from your father, Grace.”
“Yes, you did.”
“No, Grace. I haven’t.”
“When you got him the watch he wanted for Christmas, you told us kids not to tell him that.”
“But that was… You know what? Never mind.” Grace smiles broadly then turns to stare out of the window.
“Mom?”
“Yes, Grace.”
“Isn’t that Kyle’s truck at the burger place? They aren’t even open yet. Are they making breakfast burgers now, you think?”
I swerve the SUV into the parking lot, nearly skidding to a halt once I get close to the huge truck. Without a second thought, I jump from the driver’s seat to make my way around to the passenger side of his truck. “Should I just…” I hear Grace saying as I take hold of the door handle and give it a solid tug. Eyes bugged out, Natalie, still wrapped in Kyle’s arms uses her hands to hide her kiss-swollen lips.
“Out!” I shout, pointing towards my vehicle.
“Mom. Stop. You’re overreacting.”
“Overreacting!”
“Yeah, Mrs. Grayson, you’ll induce a stroke if you don’t take some cleansing breaths,” Kyle advises as he whips the hair from his eyes.
“Shut. Up.” I grind my teeth. “Get. Out.”
“You’re so old. You don’t understand. You need to trust me.”
“Natalie, so help me, if you don’t get out of that truck and into my car right now, I will make your life more miserable than you could ever imagine.”
With a loud huff, she slides down from the passenger seat, jumps into the back of my SUV, and slams the door with so much gusto that part of the plastic frame falls off. “Tell Nat that I’ll call her…”
The Broken Road to Forever Page 14