Bouquet Toss (9 page)

“Holy crap!”  Shocked, I stare at the dainty piece of fabric with an adorable blue charm.  “Now, get your sexy ass out there and see if you can avoid the bouquet.  I’ve gotta say, though, I don’t see that happening!” Mayso
n smiles.  He’s teasing me, so
I decide to give it right back to him.

“What makes you think I’m going to avoid it this time? Maybe I want to catch it now.”  I am no longer the one who’s blushing.  Mayson glances at the floor and then glances back at me.  For some reason, his eyes look conflicted.  Perhaps I’ve g
one too far.

“I dare you,
” he says boldly, staring me straight in the eye.  My knees feel weak.  He has called my bluff. I didn’t expect that at all.  Could it be that Mayson is falling as hard for me as I am for him?  Is it possible that he isn’t afraid of a future with me?  Or is he just being a royal, stubborn pain in the ass?  I assume it’s the latter and head towards the other single ladies congregating behind the bride.  It is a big group this time and I secretly wish there was less competition to worry about. 

At the last second, I decide to purposely avoid the bundle of flowers and take a couple of steps back, but I’m pushed forward quickly by a couple of giggling teenage girls, just dying to get the bouquet so that they can marry Edward, or Jacob or whoever they’re arguing about. 

Janna tosses the bouquet in the air.  The woman in front of me jumps up like she’s going to spike a volleyball, reaching as high as she can.  The flowers spring from her fingertips and tumble down, bouncing off the shoulder of a bridesmaid.  The air in my lungs escapes me as the bouquet finally lands perfectly in my hands.  In shock, I have to grab the base of the handle before it tumbles to the ground. I don’t want the teenagers to rumble.

Not knowing whether to feel triumphant or sheepish, I walk towards my date holding the beautiful batch of hot pink gerbera daisies in my hands with a look that screams ‘I told you so’’.  Mayson shakes his head and chuckles to himself.

“Wow,” he says, “Maybe the universe really is trying to tell you something, Daphne.  But, I--”

Mayson isn’t able to finish his sentence as the DJ is ushering us out into the center of the floor to take a picture with the bride and groom, him with his garter, and me with my bouquet.  I am embarrassed, but thrilled.  Perhaps the universe is speaking to me. And, perhaps it’s time to listen.

Mayson and I spend the rest of the reception dancing closely to every song played.  He gazes into my eyes and gives me soft kisses.  Stroking my face with his hands, he pulls me tight and breathes in deeply.

“Thank you for bringing me, Daph,” he says with a serious tone.

“I’m so happy you were able to join me.” I muster, suddenly feeling uncomfortable with the look in his eyes.

“Me too.  I feel like one day, we may be looking back on this night. What about you?”

Gazing into his gorgeous eyes, his pensive smile and his light pink cheeks, I want so desperately to tell him how I’d like nothing more than to look back on this night, the night he caught the garter and I the bouquet, the night we realized we were meant to be together.  But, I can’t.  I’m still too terrified to believe that any of this is real. I’m waiting for us to crash and burn, and as much as I know that I need to open myself up to loving Mayson again, I just can’t. 

And so, I smile awkwardly and say, “That would be nice.”

Mayson breathes a heavy sigh and holds me close as we sway on the dance floor.  I’m in love with this man.  I hope to one day be able to tell him how much I care without feeling as if my emotions will swallow me whole, leaving me a lonely and bitter shell of a woman when he inevitably leaves me again.  I hope.... I hope.

Thanksgiving

Mayson and I have been seeing each other for four months now.  It hasn’t been easy.  Being halfway across the country from the man whose touch I yearn for is almost heartbreaking at times.  We text, we talk on the phone, but it is never quite enough.  We’ve only seen one another twice since he accompanied me to Phillip’s wedding.  He was called back to campus to fix structural problems with the project he was running, and each time I was grateful that mistakes had been made. Each time, I dropped everything that I was doing; lesson plans were put on hold, time with friends was postponed, and admittedly, I called in sick one Friday in order to drive three hours to see him.

Our visits have been rushed, there isn’t nearly enough time for us to spend together as Mayson balances his relationship with me and the expectations given to him by his firm.  I am fully aware that I need to take second seat.  I’ve accepted the role and I’m no longer resentful.  It has become my reality.  And, in full disclosure, I am pleased to have whatever time I can get with Mayson.  Despite my intentions, I am pining for him constantly.  Thinking about him when I should be working, daydreaming of a future together when I should be planning my future as an educator.  I’m lost in him, happily taking whatever I can get from the relationship I have willingly accepted.  This is a long distance situation and at this point, it is too soon to be discussing relocation for either of us.  And deep down, I know that if anyone will be uprooting their life, it’ll be me.  Mayson has always wanted to live in
Colorado
, and his position is a highly coveted spot.  He and I both know that I can teach anywhere. 

But, a new school year has begun.  It’s November, and I’m locked in until at least May of next year.  Knowing this, I’m able to relax and not put too much pressure on myself to make any decisions with Mayson regarding our future plans.  We are able to move along at a snail’s pace, which, for the most part, is quite comfortable and fulfilling; flirty phone conversations, sensual text messages and friendly email banter has become our norm. 

The Thanksgiving holiday is quickly approaching and I am excited to have an entire week off of work as our school district traditionally holds a “fall break” for both students and faculty for the entire week of Thanksgiving.  I know where I want to be for Thanksgiving, I only hope Mayson will feel the same.

I walk into my apartment, knowing my phone will ring shortly. Mayson calls me from work almost daily, right around 4:00 pm my time.  The sound of the telephone ringing each afternoon is the highlight of my day!  Just as I finish putting some fresh produce in my refrigerator, I hear the phone ringing.  Right on time.

“Hey beautiful,” Mayson says in a husky, sexy tone. 

“Hi stranger,” I reply, “How’s work today?”

“Ah, same old, same old.  Nothing too exciting. Just a few more hours and I’m going to go for a really long run to relax.  Thanks for those new songs, by the way.  They’re a little crazy, but they keep me moving.”

“I’m glad you like them.” I smile, “Nicky Minaj grows on you, doesn’t she?”

“Yeah, I guess she does,” I can tell he’s smirking on the other end of the line.  He always thought I had crazy taste in music.  Eclectic doesn’t even begin to describe me.  Raised on the Beatles and Bruce Springsteen, I am a classic rock junkie.  But, when I am running, it’s an entirely different story---I need loud, seam busting music with ridiculous lyrics.  Mayson had never heard of half the artists I listened to until one morning down on campus when he woke up early for a run.  He had forgotten his iPod so, he borrowed mine.  He said it was the best run he’d had in months.  I continued to recommend songs to him.  Secretly, I enjoyed influencing his music choices.

“So, Mayson,” I begin, “I’ve mentioned to you that my fall break is coming up at the end of the month.”  I pause hoping that he’ll say something, but there is only silence on the other end of the line.  I’m forced to continue, “I would love to spend Thanksgiving with you, Mayse.”

For a moment, there is nothing but more
silence. Heartbreaking silence
that sends uncomfortable flips through my abdomen.  Finally, he speaks.  “You know I would love that.  But, I sort of promised my parents that I would come to
South Carolina
for Thanksgiving, and they aren’t quite, um, ready to meet anyone yet.  My mom is big on family-only holidays.  My older brother had a habit of bringing around a lot of different girls to family holidays and Mom finally drew the line. I’m really sorry.”

His answer, although incredibly plausible, makes me feel uncomfortable.  Is he ashamed of me, ashamed of our relationship?  Or am I just not important enough to fight for once again?  Before allowing myself to get too upset, I remember our conversation in
New York
.

You have to stop punishing me for what I did when we were in college.

Pulling myself together, I muster up my strength and answer casually, “Oh, alright.  That’s fine.  My mom can be particular about certain things, too.  She’ll probably be thrilled when she finds out I’ll be here.”

“Are you okay?” he asks. I can hear the concern in his voice. 

“Yes, don’t worry.  It’s totally fine.  Besides, I wouldn’t want to miss my mom’s sweet potato souffle, it’s really fantastic.”

“Yum.  I’d love to taste it someday,” he replies, sounding hopeful.  I can’t figure this man out.

“Listen, Daph, I had better run.  I have a meeting with a potential client in a few minutes and I need to get my act together.   I’ll do my best to call tonight after my run, alright?”

“Good luck with your client, Mayson.”

“Thanks, babe.”

As I hang up the phone, my heart sinks, but I can’t allow it to pull me under.  I have to trust Mayson.  We’ve been together for months now, and aside from his admitted self-centered nature, he hasn’t done anything to hurt me.  No promises have been broken, no betrayal has taken place.  We’re simply finding our bearings and trudging through long distance as best we can.  We’re learning together.

Knock

“Be careful, that ornament belonged to Grandma!”  I hiss as Morgan retrieves the fragile glass sphere from the large plastic bin at her feet.

“Wow, you are really edgy today, Daph.  What’s up with you? Where’s your holiday cheer?  We’re decorating your apartment for the holidays and you’re in a snit!”

“I’m sorry.  It’s not you, honestly.  Let me turn on some music.  That will help.”  I need Christmas carols desperately right now.  We’ve been listening to the same CD of carols for decades.  It’s a special tradition that always manages to get me into the holiday spirit.  It’s the day after Thanksgiving.  Instead of waiting in the insane lines and shopping with the crazies, Morgan and I haul out all of our Christmas décor and decorate one another’s places.  But, things with Mayson are getting to me and I’m inadvertently taking it out on one of my favorite people in the world.

“It’s fine.  Do you want to talk about it?” Morgan asks hesitantly, probably afraid of the possible meltdown that could ensue. 

“It’s Mayson, obviously.  Things are just…off.”

“What do you mean?” she asks, seeming genuinely curious by these words.

“He’s just different, somehow.  Ever since I brought up the possibility of traveling to
Denver
for Thanksgiving, he’s been acting odd.”

“Guilt, perhaps?”

“Possibly, but it feels like more.  It feels like…”

“College?” Morgan knew me so very well.

“Exactly.  He pulled away from me then, and this feels just like that. It’s agonizing.   The phone calls are shorter.  The texts are less affectionate.  And I know this sounds silly, but he hasn’t called me Puddin’ at all since the conversation about
Denver
.  That’s exactly what he did last time.  It’s overwhelming, like an old wound is being opened once again.  It’s all just too much.”

“Can you talk to him about it?”

“I want to, but I can’t say anything.  He hates when I bring up what happened at school.  He made me promise to stop going backwards with us.”

“He does have a point.  But, that doesn’t mean you should ignore your feelings.  Just be careful how you express them.”

“I can feel myself building a wall to protect myself, to protect my heart. I can’t let it get broken again.  I have this feeling in the pit of my stomach that I’m going to regret ever dancing with him at Elise’s wedding.”

“Ok, you are spiraling now, Daph.  Take a deep breath.  I know this guy has hurt you so much in the past, but that is in the past.  You need to leave it there if you’re going to have a future with him. The question is, is he worth it?”

“God, I hope so.”

That evening, completely exhausted from hours of decorating and holiday cheer with my cousin, I plop myself into my soft, leather reading chair and grab my kindle from the coffee table.  It’s time to read a nice, relaxing book, forget all about my troubles and lose myself in a story.   Delving into the plot of my novel, listening to Damien Rice singing softly, my thoughts drift once again to Mayson. I am falling for him, deeply.  And it scares me to death.

A strong knock on my back door startles me and my heart races.  Glancing at the clock, I see it’s already 9:00 pm.  Who could be here at this hour?  I glance through the peep hole and see Mayson on the other side of the door.  My heart flips into my throat.  Completely overwhelmed, I open the door.

“Surprise,” he says shakily.