Throwback

by Zeia Jameson

  “And you lived in a shelter?” I ask.

  Her head snaps up and she looks at me, confused.

  “I asked Sara and Joe not to say anything about that,” she says. “I wanted to be the one to tell you that, if I ever decided to.”

  I shake my head. “They didn’t spill your beans. I met a guy earlier. In the park, when I was looking for you. He said he used to live with you at the south side shelter.”

  Livy smiles, “That was probably Marcus. You talked to him?”

  “Yeah. I was at the footbridge calling out your name and he told me he knew you and hadn’t seen you around.”

  “He’s a nice guy. He lost his whole family in a house fire and he just gave up. I don’t really blame him. I go talk to him sometimes. I feel like it brightens his day a little.”

  I grab Livy’s hand and smile at her. She continues, “So when I came to the city, I didn’t have a place to live or much money. I stayed in a few shelters for a couple of months. I got the job at the bar, Joe hired Sara and she convinced me that taking up space in the tiny living room of her one bedroom apartment would be better than staying in a shelter. And that’s pretty much it. So. Now you know. I don’t like talking about it because it’s all bad and I’ve moved past it. I didn’t want you to pity me because there’s nothing to pity. I’m where I am right now because of everything that happened. I am who I am because of all of it. I like where I am and who I am, so I have no grudges or bitterness about it.”

  “But, Livy, you do,” I have to interrupt. I’m not sure who she’s trying to fool here. Me or herself. “You do have something. Otherwise you wouldn’t have drunk half a bottle of bourbon and told me not to love you because you were unlovable and that it was all your mother’s fault.”

  She looks at me surprised.

  “I don’t pity you, Livy. Not even a little. I don’t look at you any different now that I know what you’ve held back from me for so long. I hate that you had to go through that, but you are right. All of that has made you who you are. The person I fell in love with. My Livy.” I lean toward her and place her hand, covered with mine, over my heart.

  “So now that we have that established, Livy, you also have to understand that you will never be like your mother. You are not hateful. I watched the way you nursed Joe back to health, and the way you nearly killed yourself to keep the bar straight. I watched the way you looked at Sara the night before she left and told her exactly what she needed to hear to calm her down. And you just told me that you keep a homeless man company sometimes because you see something in him that he doesn’t see in himself. Livy, you have a huge heart and you don’t even know it’s there. You have compassion. Hateful people don’t have that.”

  Livy looks at me as though I am telling her something she seriously does not know. She stares at me and I wait to see if she has anything to say. She shakes her head. “I don’t know what to say about any of that, Jeremy. Marcus, Joe and Sara all helped me when I needed it most. Marcus told me where to look for a job, Joe gave me a job and Sara gave me a stable place to live. I felt the need to reciprocate.”

  “Maybe. But it’s more than that. You care, Livy. Your heart isn’t made of ice. You care about people who care about you. Do you not understand that?”

  Livy leans back in her chair and let’s go of my hand. She doesn’t respond. For minutes we sit there in silence. She just sits there staring at her mug again.

  “I don’t know how to love you, Jeremy,” she says, finally.

  And then she just changes the subject completely.

  “I don’t understand what you mean,” I reply.

  “I have avoided being in a relationship this long because I don’t know how to have a relationship with anyone. I tried so hard not to start this with you but I couldn’t stop myself. I want to love you, but I’m terrified I’m going to fuck it up. And like I told you before, marriage and kids are completely off the table for me. I think marriage consists of a bullshit piece of paper and vows people never intend to honor. And there is no way in hell I would allow myself to be a mother when I have absolutely zero examples to follow in that department. And if that is something you are aspiring towards, then we have to end this. As much as it kills me to think about that, you have to understand I am serious. No marriage. No kids.”

  “Livy, look at me.” Her eyes shift up to mine.

  “I want you. You. For as long as you’ll have me. I love you. I don’t know what to tell you about anything else. What I do know about you, Livy, is that you do know how to love me. It probably helps tremendously that I have a mother and two aunts who raised me and treated me like a prince while simultaneously brainwashing me to believe that women are angels sent to earth to keep men from regressing to Neanderthals.”

  Livy laughs.

  “I was smothered with love, Livy. I kinda know how it works. Just…let me love you. Trust me. If you do, I think you’ll figure it out and you’ll realize you’ve loved me all along. Everything else? We’ll figure it out. What do you think?”

  She looks at me for a long time. I wonder what she’s thinking. Is she trying to decide whether she can trust me? Whether I’m telling the truth? Is she going to say “fuck off” and walk out the door? I have no clue. I can’t read her at all.

  “Ok,” is all she says.

  “Ok?”

  She nods “Ok. I trust you, Jeremy. More than I’ve ever trusted anyone. That trust was instantaneous. You didn’t have to earn it. I don’t know why that is but I generally listen to instinct, and my instinct told me to trust you the first night I met you. When you stood behind me with those men at the bar. You let me handle my business but you had my back just in case. You didn’t try to rescue me. I don’t know why, but that meant a lot to me. That one single action hooked me and I’ve been hooked since. You sunk your hook in even farther when you said you liked me for me, but that first night...deep down, I really already knew.”

  She is staring at me and she says nothing else for a few minutes. Her eyes are locked on mine. It’s as if we are trying to read each other’s minds. Then she finally speaks again.

  The six most fabulous words I have ever heard.

  “So. Ok. Go ahead. Love me.”

  ***

  12

  Livy

  Thirty-seven days later

  Meeting the family

  I let him love me. I put all reservations, doubts and skepticism regarding relationships aside and just...let him love me.

  And he did it so well. My lease ran out and I took up permanent residence at his apartment. Each morning, he woke me with gentle kisses on the back of my neck and shoulder. He wouldn’t let me get out of bed until he hugged me for at least a good five minutes.

  In the mornings, we cooked breakfast. Together. We did dishes. Together. In the evenings, we cuddled up on the sofa and watched a selection from what Jeremy calls my strange cult collection (turns out Sara let me keep all of the movies). I’ve opened his horizons to several movies I thought every red blooded American had seen. Good Morning Vietnam, The Sandlot, Pulp Fiction, Top Gun and The Shining, so far. He hadn’t seen any of these. When we first met, he razzed me for never having gone to the movies in my adult life. However, it turns out my movie prowess was somewhat more expansive than his.

  When we weren’t watching movies, we were going out on the town. We had finally made it out to the blues club. We danced all night and it was incredible. Jeremy took me to places I didn’t know existed. Gastro pubs. Tapas restaurants. Art galleries. To him, the fancier the event, the better, because it called for me wearing a dress and heels. Both of which I still hated. However, the way Jeremy’s eyes grew dark when he looked at me in a dress, and the all-night bedroom activities that took place afterward, were most definitely worth the temporary discomfort.

  One night, he took me to a book signing. Let me repeat that. A book signing! A receptionist at Jeremy’s office heard that George R. R. Martin was having a reading at the bookstore on Fifth. Jeremy was famili
ar with Martin from the television show derived from his books, but I had been reading his work for years before the show existed.

  We attended the reading and when it was my turn for him to sign my copy of his first publication, he balked at the age and wear of the book.

  “Would you like a new copy for me to sign?” he asked me.

  “No thank you,” I replied respectfully. “This is one of the first books I bought when I came to the city. You were in town for a reading then also. I read in an article written about you in the news that your work was inspired by Ivanhoe. I love Ivanhoe. I decided to give you a try.” I forced a smile because he looked at me funny. I was trying not to come off as a critical know-it-all bitch, but I think I did it anyway.

  “I love your writing,” I attempted to salvage my end of the conversation “This particular copy of your book is very special to me.” I tapped my finger on the ragged edged book.

  “Very well, young lady. I am glad you enjoy my work. “

  “My favorite aspect is that even though your world is completely fictitious and dabbles with fantasy and mythology, you tie in actual real historical notes such as caste systems and political tyranny. It’s like you took medieval England and gave it a little LSD.”

  “Ha! That is quite an interesting perspective!”

  I smiled, “I call it like I see it.”

  He chuckled and looked to his left and then to his right. His head disappeared under the table he was sitting behind for a brief moment and reemerged quickly with a paperback in his hand. “Here. It’s one of my new novellas. On me. What is your name?”

  “Livy. L-I-V-Y,” I spelled out.

  “Livy,” he said as he signed my old, ratty book and also the fresh new book. “I hope you continue to enjoy.” He handed me both books and then extended his hand for a shake. I held out my arm and clutched his hand. “It was a pleasure to meet you, Livy. You are a breath of fresh air.”

  “Pleasure to meet you as well. I am honored to have met you.”

  “Thank you, dear.”

  I headed over to Jeremy who watched my entire encounter with Martin. “You two were chatty.”

  “Jealous?”

  “Absolutely,” he smiled.

  “He gave me a copy of his new novella.”

  “You dialed up your sexy charm for free swag?”

  “Hardly. I just told him what I thought about his books and he thought it was an accurate account. I won the door prize for hitting bingo.” I winked.

  He wrapped his arms around me and kissed the side of my face. “Did you have fun?”

  “The best fun,” I responded.

  I certainly could get used to being loved.

  ~~~

  It’s Thanksgiving. I knew the day would come when I’d have to meet his mom and the aunts. We were an official couple now, so I couldn’t back out of holiday events.

  But not for lack of trying.

  The day after I slapped Joe, I went to him as soon as I could and apologized. He accepted, called me a stubborn girl and told me more details about the sale. Once the deal was done, a check with more zeroes than I was comfortable with was cut in my name. At first, the fact that I had no job was foreign to me. The first few days seemed like a vacation. Then as the days passed and began to merge together, I got cabin fever and became a little stir crazy. I remembered the anxious paranoia I had when I first finished school and had more free time than I was used to. Now, all of my time was free and the need to fulfill my days with something meaningful grew even more important. I had to find something to do.

  I decided to go to the shelters which I had once called my home and volunteer until I figured out something else. I washed linens, cooked food in the kitchen and pitched in however I thought I was needed.

  I had told Macy, the manager at the south side shelter, that I would help out on Thanksgiving before Jeremy mentioned going to his mom’s for dinner. When he did mention it, I told him I couldn’t because I had a commitment already. He looked at me quizzically then shifted his eyes at me as if he’d figured out a riddle and simply said, “No worries. We eat dinner late at my mom’s. We can help out at the shelter for most of the day and then go to Mom’s after.”

  His offering to participate at the south side soup kitchen Thanksgiving service made my heart swell a million times its original size. How could I possibly say no to meeting his mother—on flipping Thanksgiving—now?

  “You really didn’t have to cook anything. I promise, my mom will have enough to feed a hundred people.”

  “I don’t care. I’m not meeting your mother for the first time—on a holiday—without bringing something.”

  I had made two pies, apple and pecan, as well as cranberry tart.

  Jeremy kisses me on the side of my face in the same spot of his first kiss ever to me. “You are truly amazing, Livy. Truly amazing.”

  I look at Jeremy and my heart sinks a little at a thought that’s been ricocheting in my head. “She can’t not like me, Jeremy. Never in my life have I been concerned about what anyone thinks about me. But your mother. She can’t not like me. When you talk about her your eyes sparkle. You two have a bond that I will never comprehend. If she doesn’t like me, I won’t be good enough for you…” I trail off, spinning one of the pie trays, as if giving it a final quality assurance inspection.

  Jeremy puts his hands on either side of my face. “Livy. She already loves you. There is nothing you can do to change her mind. I promise, you will be fine. Just be yourself.”

  I nod.

  Be myself.

  ~~~

  “Livy!!! It is so nice to finally meet you!” Jeremy’s mother embraces me with her full body. She pulls back and kisses me on the forehead. “I am so delighted that you have tolerated Jeremy for this long!”

  Just as with Jeremy, when his mother comes into my personal space, I don’t shutter or recoil. Her hug is comforting and warm and my arms go on autopilot. They reach around this tiny, stout woman and hug her back. Her hug is like Jeremy’s hug. I don’t get totally lost in it like I do with Jeremy, but her hug speaks to me. It says: “It’s all going to be ok, Livy. You are going to be ok.”

  I pull back and say, “Thank you. But I must admit that it’s Jeremy that has done most of the tolerating.” I look to Jeremy and wink. He winks back.

  “Well whichever it is,” his mother starts, “I know my baby boy is just head over heels for you. Before he met you, when we’d talk on the phone all he talked about was work, work, work. Now, all he talks about is you, you, you.” Her hands squeeze each of my arms at the shoulders and she says the last three words between her teeth like she’s so happy she might just explode from the elation.

  I know Jeremy talks about me to his mother. However her saying it out loud is a little more than I was ready to hear.

  “Mom. Please. Let’s let Livy stick her toes in first...get used to the water. If you and Jenna and Maggie submerge her completely at once she might jump out and run away.” He leans over and kisses her on the side of the head, hair and all.

  His mother looks at me and smiles the kindest smile I’ve ever seen. “Very well. But you’re a good one, Livy. I can tell just by looking into your eyes. My gut tells me so. It’ll take more than us three old biddies cackling about to scare you off.”

  I smile. She’s right. I fully understood the dynamic I was walking into. Three women that adore their baby boy to the point of ad nauseam and his girlfriend, a spectacle they aren’t used to dealing with. I knew I would get the third degree. I just kept Jeremy’s words in my head—be yourself.

  “You’re right.” I look at Jeremy “I’m not going anywhere.”

  ~~~

  Dinner. Was. Fabulous! As Jeremy predicted, there was enough food for a small army. Turkey, ham, every vegetable that ever existed, most of them slathered in butter or wrapped in bacon, four types of breads. And the desserts. My Lord, at the desserts! Pies, cakes, muffins, strudels, cookies. There was definitely no need for my offerings. However, t
hey were very well received.

  “Livy, that cranberry tart is to die for! You have to share the recipe!” Jeremy’s Aunt Jenna, who insisted I just call her Jenna (we’re all adults here). She was the youngest sister of the triad. Only eight years older than Jeremy. Jeremy said Jenna was the one who practically raised him because his mother worked third shift a lot.

  “Absolutely. I found it online. Saved the link in case it was a keeper. I’m glad you enjoyed it.”

  Jeremy’s family was...warm. They were exactly like what you’d picture on a holiday greeting card. All gathered around the festive dinner table, jovially eating, laughing and catching up on life in conversation. The greeting card with the soft amber light that surrounded the group as if there was a kindled fireplace somewhere in the background. It was fun. I should feel like an outsider but I feel nothing even close. I feel like I’ve known these people all of my life.