by Zeia Jameson
Livy goes to the kitchen and pulls out two glasses. I don’t know what to say in response. She didn’t say it with meanness in her voice, but she was very matter of fact. This whole time I thought she was being stubborn and immature, when in actuality, she is just trying to fight her demons of self-doubt. The demons she’s always had but was able to manage to push aside until the stressor of being a mother superseded her strength.
Livy opens the bottle and pours two glasses. She screws the lid back onto the bottle and grabs the glasses. “Come on,” she says and nudges her head over to the sofa. She walks to the living room and I follow. Livy sets the glasses onto the coffee table and then she sits on one end of the sofa and tucks her legs underneath her. She grabs the glass closest to her and signals for me to do the same. I raise my glass and we bring our glasses together, clinking for a toast. “Here’s to whatever the fuck happens in the next fifteen hours. We can only pray that the outcome favors us.”
“Here, here,” I say and we both take a sip.
~~~
8 hours later...
“He looked for four hours to find out where the paperwork was before he realized he had already submitted it to the courthouse!”
Livy and I erupt in laughter and roll on the floor. I’ve been telling her stories about work. Stories that were stressful circumstances at the time but pretty funny in hindsight. I don’t think I’ve shared a story about work with Livy since Amelia was born.
We are half a bottle into the bourbon. We’ve been laughing at my business antics for well over an hour now. Once I got her laughing, I told every story I could think of to keep the smile on her face.
When Livy first opened the bottle, we sat on opposite ends of the sofa, in silence, for an awkward amount of time. Then, Livy got up, went into the bedroom and emerged with a book. She curled up in her corner of the sofa and began reading. So, I pulled out my phone and began playing a game that one of the guys at work showed me. I don’t understand the point of it, but it is an entertaining distraction. We sit on either side of the couch well into our second glass. It is only when Livy goes to pour us a third glass, she begins talking to me. She starts talking about Amelia and how she can roll over and if you let her, she’ll roll from the kitchen, to the living room, right on into her bedroom as long as she has a clear path. She’s also trying to crawl and she can hold a spoon on her own. None of these things I knew. I feel like such an asshole. Every time one of the guys at work asks about Amelia, I just give a generic response like, “You know, she’s growing.” I seriously had no idea just how much. I mean physically, I see that she is getting bigger, but the things she is learning on a daily basis is astounding.
And I’m missing it all.
I smile and I listen to all that she tells me about Amelia. When Livy talks about her, it is with pride. So much pride. Livy isn’t much of a hand-talker but with regards to the topic of Amelia, Livy makes bold hand gestures when in descriptive mode. Her eyes sparkle and her voice projects excitement and love. I’ve never seen this side of Livy before. Probably because I’ve never taken the time to look.
At one point, Livy looks at me and pauses mid-sentence. It’s as though she is trying to decipher my look towards her. I don’t mean to make any sort of odd facial expressions and I don’t really know what it is she is analyzing. She leans forward and touches the side of my face. “I miss that smile so much,” she says. I was smiling. She was looking at me funny because I was smiling. I was smiling and I didn’t even realize it. “I’m sorry,” she says. “For everything.”
“I am sorry too,” I say. “For not being here more. I know I have my reasons, but those reasons aren’t an excuse and I do realize that.”
“Thank you,” Livy says. “And I’m sorry for leaving. I just...freaked out and I felt so helpless. Like I didn’t have a choice.”
My heart sank. She felt helpless. Which makes sense because I wasn’t around to help. And she won’t ask for help from anyone else. It’s her biggest strength and weakness, all rolled into one.
Now that we are rolling around on the floor giggling like school children, all I want to do is touch her face or run my fingers through her hair. I roll over to face her and catch her glance. Her beautiful green eyes that have been dull for so long are now sparkling, just as they used to. I scoot closer to her and reach out and take her hand and put it over my heart. “I don’t know what that trunk will make us do next, but if it’s anything like the last envelope, I want to quit.”
“But look where we are now. Right now. The trunk did that,” Livy says.
I kiss her hand and place it back over my heart. All of the negativity I was harboring this morning has left my mind. I do still have feelings for Livy—all of the same feelings that I used to have. Maybe they were just dormant and I am beginning to think they are coming out of hibernation. “I love you so much, Livy. I am so sorry.” I look at her for a brief moment before closing my eyes, not waiting for a response.
~~~
“Jeremy, wake up. It’s time for the next envelope. Jeremy. Jeremy.” I’m shaking again. Someone is shaking me. “Jeremy, wake up.” I place my hand on my head. This is the second time in less than twenty four hours that I’ve had a hangover. This is a bad pattern. I open my eyes. Livy’s hair is encircling my entire face and I look up to see her eyes and her smile. “It’s time to open the next envelope.”
“Do you think we really need to? I mean, we are doing ok, right? We talked and laughed.”
“We aren’t quitting the trunk. Let’s see what’s next. She leans down and kisses me on the side of the face. My heart skips as I think about how I used to do that to her. Used to.
I raise up. “Ok, let’s look.” We make our way over to the trunk and pull out envelope #2. Livy looks very eager, so I let her open it. She rips it open like a Christmas gift. “Careful,” I say, “You don’t want to ruin anything inside.”
She pulls out the contents. It’s another letter and a paperback book. Livy hands me the book and begins reading the letter:
Dear Livy and Jeremy,
You may have forgotten what it is like to be new loves. To have mystery. To have passion. You need to remember those things about each other. It is the reason you are together. Now that you’ve been together for some years, there is no mystery and because of that, perhaps the passion has faded. Not just sexual passion, but general passion to make each other happy. Read this book and perhaps it will help you remember how your young love blossomed and perhaps it will reignite a spark that’ll keep your flame burning. In the essence of saving time, it may prove most beneficial for you to read the story together. Livy, since you are such the literary expert, narrate the story to Jeremy. You may find that some parts are hard to read aloud but it is important that you read it cover to cover. Once you have, Livy, discuss with Jeremy what parts of the book were important to you.
After you discuss, wait twenty four hours before opening the next envelope.
And don’t forget: no sex.
Enjoy.
“What kind of book is it?” Livy asks.
I flip it over and read the summary. “Two people from different walks of life are thrown into a situation that forces them to interact with one another. When interaction becomes common practice they realize that their circumstances may have brought them together for a reason. This gripping tale runs the gambit of emotions. It shows that through all, love can prevail.”
“What. The. Fuck?” Livy says “A fucking romance novel? Seriously? Let me see that.” She reaches and takes it from my hand.
“You read romance, don’t you?” I ask.
“Classic romance. Jane Austen. Bronte Sisters. Not this contemporary pseudo-epic-love-story bullshit.”
“How is that really any different from classic romance?” I ignorantly ask, I think. However, Livy ponders this question for a moment. She flips the book over a few times herself. “Well, I don’t know. I guess, that is a good question.”
“Really?”
&
nbsp; “Yeah. I mean, you can’t judge a book by its cover, right? And really, going on the cover, there isn’t much to judge. Let’s see what it’s about. You up for it?”
“So, you’re going to read me a story?”
“Well, we can start it. If it’s stupid, then we’ll stop.”
I look at her. I mean, what else do we really have to do? No work, No Amelia. Why not?
“Why not?” I repeat my thoughts out loud.
“Want some more bourbon, or are you all whiskey-ed out?”
“Uh, I think I’m good for now.”
“Yeah, me too. But I am going to go pee and put on some pajamas.”
“Ok.”
Livy is excited to read the book, I can tell. It’s a book she’s never read before, which is rare considering I was sure she’d read all the books ever written at least twice.
~~~
He presses her against the wall and raises her arms above her head. He leans in close. Their eyes are connected, neither wanting to blink. He hovers over her for an eternity. She is anxiously anticipating his lips to meet hers but he is holding steadfastly to not make contact. He can tell that her breathing is growing heavy. She wants him to kiss her, or perhaps do more. However, he knows that if he gives in at that moment, he will be hers forever. There will be no going back. He ponders for a second and then says, “Oh, fuck it.” He presses his lips firmly onto hers. Their pulses race against each other. Her arms still restrained above her head by his hands, she struggles to reciprocate the kiss. She wants to curl her fingers into his hair. She wants to run her nails down his back. She wants to feel the taught muscles of his chest as they tense to be closer to her.
As Livy is reading these words out loud, her own breaths are growing heavier. I think this book is turning her on. Which, in turn, is turning me on. Who knew that romance novels could be so hot?
~~~
‘Never could I have imagined that I’d be in love with a girl like you. You are a serious pain in the ass. But it is totally worth it. I almost lost you and it scared the shit out of me. I honestly don’t know now if I can live without you. When I thought you were gone I felt like my lungs forgot how to breathe. My heart forgot how to beat. I didn’t want to exist if you didn’t exist. I am so grateful that we got a second chance to realize what we have. I can only pray you feel the same way or I am sincerely fucked.’
She glances at him for a long time, her face expressionless. He is anxious to hear her response.
‘When I thought my life was over, all I could think about was you. I wanted more minutes with you. I wanted to hold your hand one more time. I wanted to kiss you one last kiss. People say that their whole life flashes before their eyes when they think that they are approaching their last moments on earth. But that wasn’t true for me. All I could think about was you.’
He leans in to kiss her and she wraps her arms around him, hoping that she never has to let go.
With the last words read, Livy closes the back cover of the book and begins to cry. “This is the dumbest fucking book I have ever read. But oh, my God! The trunk really gets it. The trunk really gets it.”
I think Livy has lost her mind. “Uh, what the fuck are you talking about?”
“The trunk, or whoever the fuck chose this book, is a genius. Essentially, although I’d like to believe that our story would be better written, this book is us! I mean, neither of us has faced near death, but just in the past few days, both of us have considered leaving one another. Don’t you get it?”
I shake my head.
“You see. At the beginning, they were apprehensive about being together, like us.”
“Like you,” I correct.
Livy nods in agreement. “And then, once they did get together, it was like fireworks and symphonies and crashing waves. Remember? We couldn’t keep our hands off each other. We were like wild animals at every opportune moment. You know, we were really like that even after we got married. Except...” Livy bows her head.
“Except what?”
“Well, you started working more...and, granted the traveling with you was exciting and the middle of the night wake up sex was pretty amazing, but it just got less and less frequent.”
“But our life together isn’t just about sex, Livy.”
“No, it’s not. You are absolutely right. But we lost what we had. The communication. The passion. The desire to be with one another. We don’t have that anymore, Jeremy.”
“So, what about the rest of the story? She gets shot. He thinks she’s dead. How does that relate to us?”
“Don’t you see? It’s not the point that she almost died. It’s that they almost lost one another. And, I think, Jeremy, as hard as it is to admit, we were on a road to destruction. I don’t know what you were thinking, but I honestly had no idea how things could possibly get any better. I mean, I was just going to suck it up for the sake of Amelia and endure just being a miserable housewife. I had already accepted my fate because of the choices I had made.”
“Because you chose to love me? And trust me? You think that because you made those choices that you were doomed for misery?”
“It’s not like that. I mean, because I went against my better judgment about how I wanted to live my life, I ended up in a situation that I wasn’t happy with and I was willing to endure for the sake of Amelia’s happiness.”
I seriously have no words. I think that my wife is either clinically certifiable or astutely genius. “Livy, that is the most idiotic and selfless thing I think I have ever heard anyone say.”
She huffs out a laugh. “I guess. Like I said, I felt helpless. I mean, what were my choices? I don’t want to break up Amelia’s family. I don’t want her to feel unloved for a second in her life.”
Livy begins to cry and my heart breaks for her. She endured a childhood of feeling unloved and unwanted and now her singular goal in life is to make sure that Amelia, my daughter, never for a second feels that pain. I move the book from her hands and bring her into me. “Goddammit, Livy, you are the fucking most amazing woman I have ever met. I am such a fucking prick for ever taking you for granted for even a second. And to think that I made you feel even a semblance that I didn’t care about you anymore...I am such a fucking idiot. I am so sorry, baby.”
And now I’m crying, “I am so sorry.” We sit there, embraced in one another for some time. Finally, Livy sits up and wipes her face. “Holy fuck, what just happened? The trunk made us read a romance novel and we just had some kind of secular episode here. I am beginning to think this trunk may be from an alternate universe.”
“That is perhaps a possibility. So, we’ve got like twenty hours before we can open the next envelope. What shall we do? Are you hungry?” I ask Livy.
Livy smirks at me. “I’m starving. What time is it? I know it’s almost morning, but do you want to order Chinese and put our feet on the table?”
“Hell yes.”
~~~
The food arrives. The delivery man gives us a peculiar look for ordering Chinese so early in the morning. But what is the point of twenty-four-seven delivery if you can’t take advantage of it whenever you want? We situate in the living room and dig in. I’m not sure when the last time we had a meal was. “So, do you want to watch TV while we eat?” I ask.
“Well, we’ve got time. We should catch up on our DVR,” Livy suggests.
“We have stuff on the DVR?” I had no clue.
“Uh, yeah, like one hundred fifty hours of stuff. I’ve been waiting to watch it with you.”
Livy’s face saddens a little at the realization that we’ve cluttered up the DVR with episodes that have gone unwatched because I wasn’t here. Then, she faces me and gives me a smile. I inhale and smile back, “Well, let’s see what we’ve got.”
Livy begins flipping through our recordings. “We’ve missed like two seasons of Walking Dead.”
“Alright, let’s start there.”
And that’s what we do. We eat Chinese with our feet propped on the coffe
e table, and we binge-watch The Walking Dead until we both fall asleep on the sofa, tangled up in one another.
***
42
Livy
We slept for hours. Hours! I wake up on the couch. My neck is cramped and in agony. But, as I am groaning at my throbbing sore neck, I do notice that Jeremy’s arm and leg are wrapped around me and I am snuggled into him. This is really nice. This is so nice.
My movements cause Jeremy to stir and he in turn begins rumbling about his aching body parts. But then he too realizes our position and he leans in and kisses the back of my neck. Chills run the length of me. I lay there for a moment and lean into him, taking in our awkward but loving embrace. Then, I roll out and plant my feet on the floor. I stand up and stretch every extremity in hope that I can begin to feel a little normal again. Jeremy stands up behind me and mimics my stretching motions. Then, he wraps his arms around me and hugs me tighter than he ever has. “That really was the dumbest fucking book ever,” he chuckles out.
“I completely agree. But it got the point across.”
And that is all we say about that for now.
“Why don’t we get out of the house?” Jeremy suggests. “We could just go for a walk, maybe get some coffee or some...” he looks at his watch to see what time it is, “Some whatever meal you want to have.”
I laugh. “Sounds good, but I really think I need a shower first.”
“Ok, yeah, sounds good. You go ahead first and I’ll check my phone for messages.”
