If Only (33 page)
“We should’ve dyed your hair
to match,” Roman whispers to me.
“I did one year for St
Patrick’s Day. It was my worst hairstyle ever, big mistake.” He nods, amused.
“Is everything okay so far?” I ask.
“Yes, I told you not to
worry. Give them time, it’s only natural they’d be concerned.” He pulls me into
a side hug, I snake my arm around his waist.
We spend some time enjoying
the music, and food, and then I let the adults take pleasure in the beer garden
while I take Caleb to the kids’ activities. He adores the Loving Leprechaun,
who’s giving out lucky charms. At four years old it’s his first encounter with
one and seeing him so excited is the best feeling. For a moment, I wonder what
Joe’s boy is like, but I don’t let myself dwell. Thoughts like that do me no
good.
My sister joins us. We hug.
I really miss her, even though we speak most days.
“You two look like you’re
having fun,” she says, as we release each other.
“We’re having the best time.
He’s had a lot of sugar, so he’ll be bouncing off the walls when we get back.”
“This little one’s going
crazy, too,” she says, patting her lovely baby bump. “Maybe a pint of Guinness
would calm pip down,” she jokes, in a perfected Irish accent. I can’t resist
placing my hand on her tummy. That flutter, the baby’s kick, is the strangest
sensation. I was obsessed with it when she was carrying Caleb. I hope this
one’s a girl.
“Are mom and dad okay?” I
ask.
“You mean with Roman?” I
nod. “They’re getting along. He’s nice, I like him and so do they. They’re just
concerned about the age difference – sixteen years is sort of huge.”
“I understand, but they
don’t need to be concerned.”
She hesitates. As I go to
question her, she says, “They don’t think you’re over Joe. I don’t, either.”
“Joe and I can’t be together,
I have to move on with my life. Roman’s a great guy, it’s not some silly
rebound thing and I don’t need a father figure. He’s younger than dad. But if I
ever do want a father figure there’s this super hot sixty year old dude who
works in the Salvation Army thrift store.”
She laughs, her brown-eyed
gaze breaking away from mine for a second.
“If you’re sure.”
“I am. This is the happiest
I’ve been in some time. I appreciate the mild intervention, but it’s not
necessary. Roman and I really like each other.”
She sighs, her brows pulling
tight. “We want you happy, that’s what matters most, but we’re all disappointed
that you’re not thinking of coming home. We figured you’d be here maybe six
months, and it’s been like a year and a half. Now you’re in a relationship as
well as working here.”
“I didn’t expect to still be
here, either. I don’t plan on staying forever.”
Her frown deepens. “So
what’s the point in getting with Roman then? Would he move to San Francisco?”
I shrug my shoulders. “We
haven’t talked about that. It’s only been three and a half months, it’s early
days. We’re just seeing how things go, like any other new couple. I’ll be with
Roman for as long as it feels right and I’ll deal with where my future lies
when I get there.” If there’s anything to be learned from knowing Roman, it’s
living in the moment – that’s what he does. I like it that way and I prefer not
getting caught up in thoughts of what’s to come – too much time gets wasted
with that. I’m living in the now and I’m happy right now. That’s all that
matters.
Time flies when you’re having fun. The past twenty-one
months, with Roman, have been an amazing journey. We’ve been living together
since the five month mark. It wasn’t intended, but it was a natural, even though
quick, progression. We spend every free moment with each other and we’ve had
many adventures, taking trips across the U.S. and beyond, to France, England
and Ireland.
I don’t know how, but
somehow, this boyfriend of mine persuaded me to participate in the Scottsdale
Fiesta Bowl half marathon – the 24
th
annual run. It’s taking place
on September 2
nd
and we started training for it in April. I’ve hated
every second of it and I’ve complained like crazy. I even tried to get out of
doing it, a number of times, but Roman was having none of it. Apparently, I’ll
be glad I did it after. I beg to differ.
He drags me out of the house
most mornings, just after sunrise when it’s nice and cool, and we run
Scottsdale Road. He says it’s that part that will be the hardest point of the
run, because it’s the steepest bit. Six freakin’ miles he makes me do, and then
I spend the day eating like a horse. What’s up with that? I’m certain I’ve
gained a few pounds; I can feel it in my denim. God only knows how I’ll manage
the fourteen miles on the day. I don’t know how, or why, people do full
marathons, it’s insane.
I have to admit, I’ve
improved my stamina and I’m more flexible because of the rigorous stretch
sessions he puts me through. I’ve even succumbed to doing Yoga twice a week,
and our sex is pretty athletic, too. That part I do enjoy.
I appreciate all the
additional benefits of the running and the stretching, but I know, even if
Roman doesn’t think it, that I’m stopping the exercise stuff right after the
marathon. I’ll stick to Yoga, but that’s it. Working out is just not my thing,
I don’t like it and I never will. I probably take advantage of the fact that my
weight, with the exception of now, has barely budged throughout my adult life,
and so far my sister and I are taking after mom. If we continue this way, we’ll
never actively have to work to keep our size. If that changes, then I’ll haul
my ass off to the fitness center.
The weeks are drawing closer
and between training and work, I’m the busiest I’ve ever been. My business has
gone from strength to strength, most of which has been due to wedding
photography, which I’ve come to adore, especially creating the photo albums.
It’s Sunday today and I’m
doing a wedding – the likes of which I’ve been brainwashed by, in two ways.
First of all, I never considered doing this as part of my career as a
photographer, but I’ve loved it. Secondly, I’ve come to admire the big
traditional types and I find myself making mental notes of what I would and
wouldn’t want. My sister started playing the bride from the age of six, I was
always the priest. From then on she spent her entire life, up until her big
day, planning it. I’m now doing what she did then, at age twenty-eight.
I arrive at the hotel the
bride-to-be is staying in, which is only a short distance from
St Mary's Basilica,
a lovely church in phoenix
where she’s getting married
. As I take pictures of
the pretty lady getting ready, in her lace and silk gown, I can’t believe I
almost got married myself. I don’t always have these thoughts, when I do jobs
like this, but every now and then I do. It seems as though it was a lifetime
ago, in some ways someone else’s life.
Now that I’ve been
brainwashed, I’m glad I didn’t. I know I wouldn’t have regretted my choice
then, especially as that’s what suited me most at the time, but if and when it
does happen, I’m doing the whole Bridezilla thing. I still want a day that
reflects my style, edgy and funky, but with a traditional feel to it as well,
and I want all my family and friends there.
I feel like I’ve grown, and
in certain ways changed, since I first arrived in Scottsdale.
The day finally ends. It was
enjoyable, but long. I’m happy to be home. I’m also glad to find Roman is still
up.
“Hey.” He greets me with his
fabulous smile. “How’d it go?”
“Great.” I put down my stuff
on the floor, by the front door, and join him.
We sit at the breakfast bar
and I tell him about the day. If it were a female I was with I’d give every
last detail, something I do frequently with Elena who loves hearing about some
of the weddings, but I spare Roman with a brief version.
Long days like this earn me a neck, shoulder and back
massage. Once I finish talking, I lie face down on Roman’s massage table, and
he rewards my hard work. I close my eyes, winding down, and listen to him talk
about his happenings.
****
It’s my day off from photography work, so it’s
sculpture time. Before I get started, I’m sitting out on the deck, shaded from
the hot sun, with the newspaper and a coffee. I’m blocking out all thoughts of
Friday’s marathon, I can’t believe it’s only four days away. On the plus side,
my family’s due in three days. That’s the only good thing about this week. I’m
aching to see my niece and nephew, I’ve missed out on so much of Madison’s
first year of life. I can’t wait to see Su and my sister and my parents.
Damn it, I can’t wait to see
them all.
Scanning the front page
headlines, today’s date literally jumps out and smacks me cold in the face. My
cup falls from my hand, hitting the ground with a fracturing crack. I barely
register the feel of warm liquid splashed down my lower leg.
August 29
th
2011.
Joe’s birthday.
He’s thirty-three today.
A chill runs through me and
my skin prickles with goose bumps. I’ve prepared for this date, and the other
significant dates that follow it, for the past two years. Call me sentimental,
or call me stupid, but these dates mean something to me, even though they hurt.
I’m amazed I could’ve forgotten, but I have. I’ve been so caught up in
preparing for the run, work, and my family’s visit, I didn’t consider anything
else.
It’s three years from the
day that Joe and I got together, in four days it will be three years to the day
that I left his condo, and the last time we spoke, and in six days it will be
three years to the day we were to marry. How could I forget? It was only
yesterday I thought about how close I was to getting married. God, it still
hurts. It’s as painful now as it was back then.
When will I stop loving that
man?
Why does it seem as though my
feelings for Joe are stuck in a time warp? Why can’t I get over him? He rode
into my life ten years ago, and I’ve loved him almost every single day
since.
A freaking decade!
We didn’t even last a week.
I have to let this go, we
were never meant to be. I’m with Roman now and my life is here with him.
I can’t love Joe anymore. I
don’t want to.
The past three days have been internal torture, and
I’ve tried to suffer in silence. I’ve snapped at Roman, unnecessarily, several
times. I hate myself for it, that’s not how we are, but I’ve been unable to
stop it. Thank God for PMS, or, at least, having it as a cover up. I detest
lying to Roman.
I’m relying heavily on the
distraction of my family, for the next few days, as well as the physical and
mental pain of the run to get me through this week. Once it passes, I can get
on with my life, again, just as I had been. All I need is for this week to be
done.
I’m at my aunt and uncle’s
and two cars pull up outside. I sprint out the front door, and Caleb and
Madison run straight for me. I squeeze them both, breathing in their delightful
kiddy smells.
We all have lunch in the
backyard and there’s so much to talk about, it’s impossible to get everything
out. After we eat, Roman leaves for work. My guilty conscience for my mood
these past few days has me hugging him on the door step for way too long. It’s
the only way I can express an apology without saying the words. Eventually, I
have to let go – he does have a job to get to.
Soon after, the rest of us
go to the park. When we get there, Su and I take the kids to the play area,
while the others head for the sheltered picnic tables.
“Su, can you hold Madison’s
hand while I get my camera out.”
“Sure.” She reaches out to
the blonde cutie and heaves her up into her arms, squeezing a giggle out of
her.
“No.” I’m literally pushing
my face into my backpack.
“What’s wrong?”
“I don’t have it. I think I
left it in the backyard with my cell phone. I thought I picked them up.”
“You were distracted with
this young lady.”
“Yeah, I guess. I want
photos of today. I’ll have to go back and get it.”
“Use my phone, it has an
awesome camera.”
“Okay, thanks.”
Caleb is a typical six-year old and gets to
entertaining himself fast. Maddie takes more care, so Su and I stay with her,
but I keep an eye on the little guy. The heat means our time is limited; it’s
too hot for the adults, never mind the kids, so we head back and hang out at
the house with the A.C. on.
I’m under strict orders from Roman to get a good
night’s sleep for tomorrow. Not easy when I’m here with Su. I’m staying at my
aunt and uncle’s, so I can make the most of my family. Su and I are in the
living room, on an air bed. We’ve talked non-stop; there’s been so much to
catch up on, even with frequent calls and texts. Nothing compares with
face-to-face.
We’re the only ones still
awake and we’ve been talking about Su’s new house. I’ve seen pictures by e-mail
and I want to see the real deal. I’d been thinking about whether I should finally
visit San Francisco, I started to feel ready, but with the pain Joe’s birthday
has caused I’m not so sure.
