Lily White Lies (16 page)

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I opened the bathroom door to find Brian filling the space in its frame.

Startled, I said, “Oh...  I didn’t know you were up.”  When he made no motion to move, I squeezed past him.  “What time did you get in?”

Although faced away from him, I could feel his eyes boring a hole into my back.

“You didn’t hear me?”  In a more accusing tone, he added, “It’s been close to a week Meg, I thought you’d... well, you know.  I thought you’d be
eager
to see me.”

He would have no way of knowing how nauseating I found his last remark or how hard it was to keep my tone from faltering.  A part of me wanted to run from the room, hoping he figured it out for himself and another part of me wanted to blurt out what I had to say—and then run from the room.

“You didn’t say exactly what time you’d be in.  It was a long day and I got tired.  I’m sorry.”

I lifted my head, trying to find strength in a spot on the yellowed ceiling.  Our conversation had just begun and already, I was the first one to use the two words I swore I wouldn’t say.  Forcing a vein of strength, I looked into his eyes and began to speak.

“Brian, the truth is—I was awake when you got home.  I was awake and I pretended to be asleep because it was late and I just wasn’t in the mood to deal with you.”  Under my breath, I added, “Not that I’m in the mood now.”

His voice took the stern and reprimanding tone that always made me feel like a small, guilty child.  “Can you be more specific?  Exactly what do you mean, not in the mood to
deal
with me?”

I began to dress.  Although I had dressed in front of Brian hundreds of times before, somehow, it now made me feel cheap and embarrassed, but I refused to let him see that.

“How specific do you need for me to be Brian?  I mean, when you drop your belt buckle from four feet above the floor and hum loud enough to wake the neighbors and I don’t get up, doesn’t it tell you anything?  Or how about when we have sex and you’re the only one smiling when it’s over?  Again, doesn’t it give you a clue?”  I briskly headed out of the room with Brian following closely behind.  “You only see what you want to see.  I’ve been very specific; you just haven’t been paying attention.”

I rounded the kitchen table and sat to put my shoes on.  The heat in the house was rising with every word and I felt as though I couldn’t get out of it fast enough.

“Oh, this is just great, Meg.  One week before the wedding and now everything is all wrong.  Could you have pulled the spoiled brat routine a little sooner?”

“Spoiled brat?  Am I a spoiled brat when you surprise me with six dinner guests, telling them, ‘Don’t worry, Meg will just whip something up’ even though I had other plans for dinner?”  I shot him a look of disbelief.  “And I suppose I’m the spoiled brat when I’m expected to spin circles in order to accommodate
your
plans, even though my plans were made first.”

“Could it be that maybe, just maybe, my plans are more important?”

“Aren’t they always.”

I rested my head in my hands and took a deep breath.  I was angry with myself for starting in a manner that would ensure an argument.  I sat back in my chair and stared at him for several seconds before I began to speak, this time calmly.

“Listen, Brian.  It’s not as if this just came up.  I’ve been feeling this way for quite awhile, I just didn’t know how to tell you.”  I pushed my hair off my face and looked him in the eyes.  “You’re right; I should have let you know how I felt much sooner, but...  I just couldn’t find the words.”

He stared at me in disbelief.

I had wounded his pride and like most men I had known, I might as well have plunged a dagger into his heart.  There was no way I could mend his pride but I could attempt to inflate his ego, that being as close as I would get to redemption.

“Brian, things just aren’t working anymore.  You’ve been great... it was my fault.  I guess I just wasn’t ready for you.”

I could see everything he wanted to say flickering in his eyes.  Confusion masked by hurt and disbelief created a softness I’d never seen in Brian’s eyes before.

He pulled out a chair and sat facing me.  Taking hold of one of my hands, he rubbed a finger lightly over it.  Several minutes passed before he began to speak.

“Meg, I have to know...”  He hesitated.  “Is there someone else?”

I shook my head gently.  “Having someone else to blame would make it easier, but no, this is only between us.”

After a look of relief and several more minutes, he asked, “Then... is there any way we can fix this before the wedding?”

I choked out the words, “You’re not hearing me, Brian.  There isn’t going to be a wedding.”

For the first time, I saw his eyes glisten as he spoke.  “You can’t be serious, Meg.  I mean, hell, we’ve been together for so long, gone through so much... for God’s sake Meg, we’ve got over two hundred people expecting us to get married next week...”  He rubbed a palm briskly over his thigh.  “...Maybe it’s just jitters, you know, cold feet as you face the big day... it happens...”

I shook my head.  His words held hope but his eyes shown with the truth he wasn’t ready to accept.

I stood and walked over to the counter where my purse sat.  Pulling out two pens and the page Charlotte had given to me, I returned to my chair.

“Brian, I know this will seem silly to you, but please, humor me.  I want you to answer this question and the only thing you have to remember is that your answer has to be completely honest.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“No.”

I couldn’t explain why I found an impractical test so important at this final stage of our relationship, but on some level, I saw it as the closure I needed to be free of all ties to Brian.

“Brian, we don’t have anything to lose anymore.  It’s gone.  I just feel like we should do this.”

His eyes searched mine, maybe for hope, maybe for answers but finally, he broke his stare and said, “Fine, let’s do it.”

I found two pieces of paper and re-joined him at the table. 

“The test is called ‘I do or I don’t’; all you have to do is answer the question I ask as honestly as you’re able, okay?”

He offered a slight nod and slumped down in his chair, as I slowly read the question.

“On paper, list the three most important elements of a lasting marriage.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it.”

He made a motion with his hands and shook his head before turning his attention to the task.  He wrote quickly and before I began to write, he put the pen down, offering a confident smile.

I looked at my empty paper and began to write the first three things that came to mind, wondering if my life would make any more sense once we were through or if this would turn out to be the childish game Brian found it to be.

Once I had finished writing, I didn’t hesitate.  “Okay, do you want me to read yours first?”

He sat with his arms folded over his chest.  “Whatever, babe.”

I reached over and slid his paper toward me, almost afraid to pick it up.  Giving him a brief glance, I opened the paper he had folded neatly and read aloud what he had written.

“First element, that my wife understands the importance of my career.  Second element, that my wife supports my goals and ambitions, and third element, that my wife realizes her actions reflect on me as well as on her.”

When I finally looked up, I found his eyes questioning mine.  I nodded and motioned toward my paper.  “Your turn.”

He opened the paper and began to read what I had written while smugly tilting his head back and forth.

“The most important elements of a lasting marriage are, one—mutual trust and respect.”  His eyes flickered with surprise as he offered me a brief glance before continuing.  “Two—the ability to forgive and accept forgiveness...” 

He sat up straight in his chair and swallowed hard.  His voice was almost inaudible as he read the last line on the paper he held.  “Three—an unconditional love that continues to grow.”

He let the paper fall to the table and looked away.  For several moments, I watched his back rise and fall as he cleared his throat and ran his hands through his hair.  Turning back to me, he murmured, “I’m so sorry, Meg.”  He limply shook his head.  “I don’t know how I...  Shit, I really blew it, didn’t I?”

Taking hold of his hands, I whispered, “No Brian, I’m just as guilty.  I should have told you how I was feeling a long time ago.  I can’t say we would have ended any differently, but at least you would have seen it coming.”

He rested an arm on my shoulder and laid his head against my neck.  For the first time in a very long time, I was at ease with him.  This was my first glimpse of his vulnerable side and although too late, I found it somewhat endearing. 

He whispered ‘I’m sorry’ into my ear before he began to weep into my hair.  We sat for several minutes and tearfully shared the closest moments we would ever share again.

Brian grabbed a few of his things and left me alone in the house.  Although the house belonged to him, he had generously told me that he would stay away until I had moved my things.  I was appreciative of the gesture. 

I had imagined our parting full of anger, insults and verbal mud that we would each come to regret one day.  Instead, it was calm, mature and even a little sad.  Our love had been like one of the pretty flowers Gram spends countless hours planting.  We had planted a seed and watched in awe as it grew into something beautiful.  However—as often happens—we became lazy or just stopped caring enough to tend to its needs, and it quickly died.  I was as much to blame as Brian was and all I could hope for was that somehow, after the dust from the pain and embarrassment settled, the experience yielded enough wisdom to avoid something similar happening in the future.  Gram claims that no mistake is too big unless you learn nothing from it.  For the sake of my happy future, I certainly hope she’s right.

Thirteen

...Cory was being evasive and Charlotte was acting guilty—familiar signs of a scheme and the promise of a night I would never forget...

It was almost four o’clock and I was expecting the girls any minute.  Neither of them were known for their punctuality but when it comes to a party, the odds of them being on time were in my favor.

I strolled from room to room while I waited.  It was a vain attempt to put several years and a soured relationship behind me in time to enjoy a party originally intended to celebrate the same things I was now trying to forget.

Wandering aimlessly around the house, I found myself in the bedroom, staring up at a framed picture of me, dressed less than modestly.  I had the photo taken as a gift for Brian on the second anniversary of our first date, a day that I later learned held no special meaning for him.  I had anxiously waited all day for him to return from work, but when he finally did, he wasn’t alone.  As often happened, he had brought colleagues home for dinner without remembering to call me in advance.  I had told him earlier that day that I had a surprise for him in light of the special occasion and in front of his guests, he insisted on opening the package that leaned against the back of the couch.  I did my best to discourage him without causing a scene, but as usual, Brian won.

I still recall the jolts of horror, shame and embarrassment that raced through my body when, upon viewing the photo, each of his friends offered commentary ranging from short whistles to lewd remarks disguised as compliments.  That night, I felt like a door prize at an obnoxious-attorney convention.  Brian thought I was over-reacting but his insensitivity in situations like that night was one of the hurdles we never did overcome.  After many months of questioning my decision, suddenly, the straight line between the beginning and the end of our relationship became unmistakably clear.

The doorbell rang with the last chime of the grandfather clock.  I shook off any remaining thoughts of Brian, forced my best party smile, picked up my umbrella and swung the front door open with zest.

“Ready and waiting—as promised.”

Cory gave Charlotte a satisfied grin and looked back to me, saying, “Let the fun begin,” as she motioned toward the black limo waiting at the curb.

As we climbed into the largest car I had ever seen, I was in awe of my surroundings.

“Oh my God, you could practically live in here.”

The seats were leather.  Not the kind normally used for upholstery, but the kind of leather used to make expensive gloves or handbags.  Smoked glass separated us from the driver, and a small bar equipped with a refrigerator sat between two spacious seats.

Cory offered a smile before lowering the window that separated us from the front half of the car, saying, “Stephen, would you take us to the airport, please?”

“Where are we going?  Are we
flying
to the party?”

Charlotte said, “Uh uh, no clues.  You’ve waited this long, what’s another half hour?”  Hesitating briefly, she continued, “So... what’s up?”