The Reality of Wright and Wrong

by Leddy Harper

  “Yeah, go ahead and have him close up. I’ll run through the checklist with him before I leave to make sure he doesn’t forget anything.”

  “Got it.” She opened the door, then paused before leaving. “Everything will be okay, Wrong. Trust that. I realize I don’t know Mercy all that well, but I’m pretty good at reading people, and she seems like a tough girl. It’ll take a lot more than this to break her.”

  “Yeah, she’s a lot stronger than she gives herself credit for.”

  After one more simple grin, Indi left me in the back room with my thoughts.

  15

  Mercy

  I’d arrived at the airport early, circled it a few times to make sure I knew where to go, and then pulled into the cell lot to wait for Stella to text me that she was ready to be picked up. Which meant I sat there, staring at my phone while it burned a hole in my hand.

  I still hadn’t called my parents, and even though I knew I needed to—especially before I had company—the fear prevented me from following through every time I pulled up their number. On top of that, there was the issue of Jordan sending me message after message until I finally put him on mute, unable to deal with the constant chime of his incoming texts.

  After glancing at the clock on the dash, I decided it was now or never to return my parents’ call. It would give me roughly five to ten minutes of listening to them condemn me for eloping with a stranger and then keeping it from them for over a month before I’d have to cut them off to pick up my friend. And knowing my mom as well as I did, there was no way she’d carry on a conversation that involved the family while in the company of others.

  “What’s going on, Mercy?” Mom answered the phone, sounding frantic and on the verge of a full-fledged panic attack. It was enough to make me feel bad for avoiding this call for so long—she rarely sounded rattled, even when she was.

  I cleared my throat and set my attention on a tree in the distance, hoping it’d distract me long enough to speak without sounding affected by her worry. “Nothing, Mom. Everything’s fine. I didn’t have my phone on me last night, and I’ve had a busy morning. Stella is coming to visit, so I had to get things organized.”

  Technically, moving all my belongings into Brogan’s bedroom had nothing to do with Stella’s arrival, though the timing of it all worked out rather well. Granted, she didn’t need to know that. I had no intention of telling her everything. After all, if I had any hope of getting their approval—not that it would change anything if I didn’t—informing her of my doubts and fears would ensure I’d never get it.

  There was a bit of rustling over the line, then my mom’s muffled voice, and after a few seconds, my dad’s deep baritone came through the speaker. “Hey, honey. Are you all right? Is everything okay?”

  I closed my eyes while releasing a long, exasperated breath. “Really, guys…there’s nothing to worry about. I don’t know who told you what, but you’re all riled up for no reason. I’m fine.”

  “Are you really, Mercy?” There was more animosity in my dad’s tone than concern, which struck me harder than I’d expected. “What in the world is going on with you? You left for a week, and when you came back, you told us to postpone the wedding, that you and Jordan had a few things to work out before you could follow through with marrying him. Now we learn that you’re married to someone else?”

  For some reason, I figured my mom would’ve been the one flying off the deep end. Not him. But I couldn’t back out now. I had to see this conversation through to the end—or at least until Stella arrived.

  “It’s a messy situation. One I didn’t care to divulge to you guys when I got home. I had a lot to think about, a lot to figure out, and none of it was anything either of you could help me with. I know you guys, and I knew you’d want to help—whether by offering advice or taking action—and this was something I had to do on my own.” That was a lot harder to get out than I’d assumed.

  My dad sighed, giving Mom a chance to speak. “I think what we are most confused about is who this guy is? And why would you marry him before you worked things out with Jordan?”

  “Well, for starters, his name is Brogan Daniels.”

  “Just tell us one thing.” Apparently, Dad didn’t care to hear the rest of my explanation. “Is he in a gang or something? He’s covered in tattoos like a thug, and from what we’ve read and heard, his nickname is Wrong.”

  I couldn’t say I was surprised by my father’s assessment of Brogan. It was more or less the biggest reason I hadn’t wanted to deal with this. “No, Dad. He’s not in a gang. He’s a tattoo artist, and he owns his own business. He does very well for himself. In fact, I think you two could really get along if you’d ignore the stereotypes and preconceived judgment. You’re both successful business owners who have created a life for yourself from nothing.”

  Granted, my dad built, sold, and installed doors, while Brogan drew pictures on skin. So technically, the only thing they had in common was owning their own businesses. That should’ve been enough to form a solid foundation for a great relationship.

  If that wasn’t a delusional thought, I didn’t know what was.

  “I have to tell you, Mercy…we’ve spoken to Jordan.” That wasn’t surprising; Mom had always favored him. “We called him earlier today when we couldn’t get ahold of you, and his heart is breaking. You really hurt him with this stunt. I’m not sure how you’ll fix the damage you’ve caused to your relationship with him.”

  After a few moments of concentrated breathing to keep from speaking too harshly, I cleared my throat so I could get this over with. “It’s complicated. I would love to fill you guys in on what happened and why I chose to run off and get married to someone else, but it’ll take longer than a ten-minute phone call, and honestly, it’s not something I feel comfortable explaining to my parents.”

  “That’s understandable.” Based on his tone, it was clear as day that my dad did not, in fact, understand it. But at least he wasn’t pushing for more information. “We’re in the dark over here. That’s all. We’re simply trying to wrap our heads around your decision, and it’s difficult to do when we have no idea why you’d choose to run off and marry the guy. And more than that…why you’ve kept it from us.”

  “To be fair, I haven’t told anyone.” Other than Stella. “I won’t lie; we got married on a whim. We didn’t talk about it ahead of time. It wasn’t planned, and I’ll be the first to admit that it wasn’t the most responsible thing I could’ve done. I can’t go back and change it, and if I’m being truthful, I don’t really think I want to.”

  Dad’s sigh of disapproval was capable of causing physical harm—no girl wanted to disappoint her father, and I was no exception. “This just isn’t like you, honey. You’ve always approached everything in life with caution and rational thinking. So why is this time, this guy, different?”

  There really wasn’t any logical way to explain this without sounding like a crazy person, and to my parents, that was the last thing I wanted to come across as. Unfortunately, I couldn’t avoid answering all of their questions, no matter how uncomfortable this whole thing was. “For the first time in my life, I did something for me, without obsessing over the outcome or implications.”

  “And how’d that work out for you, Mercy?”

  Brogan had told me I needed to answer their questions honestly, and that was what I tried to do. Except, this was one of the times I couldn’t bear the absolute truth—not because it would prove them right, but because I would end up making myself sound less sure of the choices I’d made. And that couldn’t be further from the truth.

  “So far, it’s worked out rather well, Dad. Thanks for asking.”

  “Your father doesn’t deserve that kind of attitude, young lady.”

  She was right, which forced me to lower my guard a little bit. “I’m sorry. I guess I’m just tired of defending my decision to be with Brogan—to Jordan, to you guys, to the whole world who has decided to attack me for things they know nothing about.
I just want everyone to take a step back and trust me on this.”

  “How are we supposed to trust you when you can’t even tell us why you did it to begin with?” Dad was on a roll, and if I didn’t give him what he wanted, I worried this would all blow up in flames.

  So, I took a deep breath and tried my best to ease their worry. “You know me; you’ve said it yourself—I don’t make any decision without thoroughly thinking it through. And while I fully understand how this looks to everyone, like I was impulsive and careless, I need you both to know that in my heart of hearts, deep in my gut, at the center of my being…I believe that my choices regarding this are right. I won’t say it’s been easy, because it hasn’t. Trust me when I say I’m not wearing rose-tinted glasses. I’m not living in fantasy land. I am well aware of what marrying him means for the bigger picture. I don’t, for one second, regret it.”

  “Mercy”—Mom huffed—“do you even know anything about this boy?”

  “I know enough. The rest will come with time—just like with any other relationship. But I’ve chosen to stay and see this through, which has nothing to do with Jordan. So if possible, could you two please leave him out of it and let me handle things with him?”

  Through my dad’s frustrated groan, Mom spoke up. “I don’t want to say that this is all right with us, because it’s not. There are still so many issues we need to discuss—mainly about why you never told us, and if you had planned to ever let us know. But we can talk about that later when you’re more open and willing to give us more of the story than these cryptic breadcrumbs. Right now, I would like to know what you plan to do about this wedding and all the money we’ve put down. Had we known from the start, we might’ve been able to look into getting the deposits back, but since the original date is only a few days away, I don’t see that happening. Especially since we’ve already contacted the vendors about changing the date.”

  As annoyed as I was that my mother seemed more concerned about the financial aspect than anything else, I couldn’t blame her. My irritation was nothing more than manifested guilt over my part in her potentially losing her deposit for the venue. So, I had to choke down the waves of irrational—and immature—frustration and let her voice her concern.

  “I guess I need to cancel it, huh?” My question was barely a whisper.

  “Yeah, I’d say that’s the right thing to do. No sense in stringing along an entire guest list. It’s bad enough you changed the plans at the last minute, keeping everyone in the dark as to what’s going on. I wouldn’t be surprised if most of them have already purchased a gift for you. And they’ve just been holding on to it, waiting for you to set a new date. I’d say you need to get on that and contact everyone personally so they might be able to return what they bought. Dresses and shoes for weddings aren’t cheap.”

  “I know, Mom. Not being honest with everyone up front was a cowardly thing to do. I guess I was worried about the ridicule or criticism I’d get.”

  This time, when she sighed, it was a sign that she had softened a bit. “I understand, honey. Trust me…I get it. But you’re an adult now. You’re out of college and married. It’s time you start taking responsibility for yourself.”

  The phone buzzed in my hand, Stella’s text flashing across the screen, and I’d never felt more relieved to see a message in my life. I closed my eyes, gritted my teeth, and exhaled every last ounce of air from my lungs.

  I wasn’t angry with them, even though I probably sounded like it. The truth was, I was pissed at myself for all the reasons they’d pointed out, which were all the things I knew they’d say. Apparently, I needed to hear it from them to force me to face the consequences of my actions. And maybe that was why I’d avoided it for so long.

  “Stella’s here, so I’ll have to let you guys go. I’m sorry for keeping this from you, and I’m sorry about the money. I didn’t mean to let you down; I was scared and didn’t want to say or do anything until I knew for sure what was going on. But I promise I will take care of the guest list, and I’ll make sure nothing comes back on you or Dad…or Jordan. This is my mess, and I’ll clean it up.”

  I put the car in reverse and backed out of the parking space while they said their piece.

  It was no surprise that Mom went first. “We’re always here for you, honey. Don’t ever forget that. It worries me that you’re so far away. I was okay with it when I thought you were with Jordan, but now that we know you’re with some strange guy we’ve never met, it makes me uneasy.”

  “Mom, you’re more than welcome to come down and stay for a while. Meet him and see where my life is now. I’ve talked to him about you guys visiting, and he’s excited to meet you. We both know this wasn’t ideal, and it’ll take a lot of adjusting for everyone, but he makes me happy, and that’s all that should matter.”

  “You’re right,” my dad admitted quietly, as if his emotions had settled around his voice box. “Your happiness is important, but we’re thinking of your safety. That’s what matters most to your mother and me. Go pick up your friend, and we’ll finish this conversation later. In the meantime, do you think you could send us some info on this kid? His age? Address? Anything that might make us feel a little more secure with where you’re at?”

  I couldn’t fault him for his concern, so I gave him what he wanted. “Yes, Dad. I’ll email it all to you as soon as I get back to the house. I love you. Both of you. And again, I’m sorry for everything.”

  A couple of minutes later, I pulled beneath the overhang and squeezed my way into the far-right lane where passengers loaded their luggage into trunks and back seats. I said goodbye and disconnected that call three seconds before Stella opened the rear door and tossed her backpack inside.

  “Where’s your suitcase?” I asked once she took the seat next to me.

  With her thumb hitched over her shoulder, she said, “Right there.”

  “That’s a backpack.”

  “What’s your point? I was able to fit enough stuff in there to last me a couple of months.”

  “Do you have something against checked luggage?”

  She blinked at me with a level of dramatic flair only Stella could pull off and then rolled her eyes. “Bitch, please. Do you have any idea how much these pocket pickers charge for luggage? It’s highway robbery. Especially when you consider how much you’ve already spent on a seat that a four-year-old couldn’t comfortably sit in. Hungry?” She stuck her hand in the front pocket of her jacket and pulled out approximately six bags of peanuts.

  That was what I needed—my best friend and her uncanny ability to make me laugh.

  While Brogan eased my fears and cleared my doubts, Stella made me forget what the problem was to begin with. I had a feeling that spending time around the two of them would be exactly what the doctor ordered.

  Rather than take Stella to see Brogan after leaving the airport like she’d wanted me to, I brought her to the house to get settled. Not to mention, the last place I wanted to be was at Brogan’s shop—especially after last night.

  “Are you almost caught up yet?” While I finished making the bed in the spare room for Stella, she sat on the floor with her legs crossed beneath her, reading through the obscene number of texts I’d received from Jordan over the last twelve hours.

  “Almost,” she said from the other side of the room, her back flat against the wall and attention glued to my phone in her hands. “I told Wrong that we’re gonna spend the afternoon in the pool, which means I—meaning you—won’t be able to cook. He said he’ll bring home something for dinner. He’s a keeper.”

  My eyes rolled involuntarily. “Why are you even talking to him?”

  “He texted me.”

  “No…” I tossed the last pillow against the headboard and faced her with my hands on my hips. “It’s my phone, which means he texted me.”

  “Tomato, to-mah-to. Don’t worry, Best Friend, I pretended to be you, so it’s all good.”

  I wasn’t sure what the worst part was—her pretending to be
me, or the fact she was in the middle of a conversion with my husband, pretending to be me. Then I contemplated all the things he might be saying while under the impression I was the one on the other end of those texts. That man had the ability to be filthy when he wanted, which was most of the time. “Oh, God…he thinks he’s talking to me?”

  Stella waved me off without taking her eyes off the screen. “Unfortunately, no. He figured it out after my first text. We’re getting to know each other now. You know…since you refused to introduce us when I got to town.”

  “What the hell did you say to him that made it so obvious it wasn’t me?”

  “Nothing special. He asked if you’d picked me up yet, and I said yes, that we were at the house because ‘I refused to take Stella to meet you.’ Then he came back with…” She scrolled up a bit, leaving me a little worried about how long this conversation between them was, and read, “‘Doesn’t surprise me. I didn’t figure she’d bring you up here on your first day in town.’ And then he added a winky face.”

  Perplexed, I grabbed the phone out of her hand to read the texts for myself, unsure how he could’ve possibly known he wasn’t speaking to me based on that one sentence. But right there in front of me, in blue and white message bubbles, were the exact words she’d read aloud, followed by her questioning how he knew. His reply was simple: I know my woman.

  There were many other messages that came after, going back and forth between them, though I wasn’t interested in going through them all. I trusted them both, so I didn’t have to worry about what was said—considering it was my phone, which meant I could read their conversation later if I wanted. I was just surprised Brogan had recognized something in that one written reply that told him he wasn’t speaking to me.