“Mother, how could you? Are you embarrassed of me? Would you rather I become a doormat like Mallory Wellington and have a creepy jerk of a man?” I ask exasperated. This was a brunch that I would never have been prepared for.
“Darling, what was I supposed to do? Jan was acting so high and mighty, I had to shut her up somehow. Don’t worry, we will figure something out. You never know darling, perhaps you will find the man of your dreams and all of this will turn out to be a prophecy instead of a fabrication.” My mother is either the biggest optimist or she is in complete and utter denial.
“In less than two weeks, mother, are you completely off your rocker?”
“I don’t know Natalie. Stranger things have happened.” I have faith in miracles.” She says, patting my shoulder as she steps out of the car.
“Thank you for your support. Just let me know the next time you decide to recite the story of my life to your friends. I need time to prep so I know what is actually happening.” I drop her off and drive back to my apartment, my one bedroom apartment with no husband, a freezer full of frozen meals and a refrigerator with ketchup and wine.
I wanted to wallow and sulk in my own misery over my mother’s behavior today. I felt ashamed and hurt that my own mother would tell her friends lies to make herself look better. Sure, Jan Wellington is a difficult person and is infamous for making other people feel less than superior. In fact, I think it is quite possible she attended seminars to master the art but that still does not excuse the fact that my mother did not stick up for me. Maybe I won’t get married. It has never been a priority for me. Unlike Jenna who has been planning her wedding since she was able to talk. Oh my god, in all of my reflection, I have completely forgotten the bigger issue! Jenna’s boyfriend is not her boyfriend at all; he is Mallory Wellington’s fiancé! An issue as devastating as this would never be easy to discuss at any time. This was embarrassing, humiliating and even worse, an “I told you so” moment. Yet feelings of satisfaction and ‘ah hah!’ did not cross my mind. I hurt for Jenna during a time that ignorance was bliss. This was such a delicate issue, especially since Mya and I were currently not on speaking terms with Jenna. After yesterday’s completely disastrous confrontation, I wondered if there actually was a way to tell Jenna the horrible news. Perhaps disclosure would be the best plan for the moment. Yes, I will keep this secret under wraps for now. Some would call this avoidance, I call it survival.
Chapter Nineteen
Ian awoke to a lovely Sunday morning, which in Portland’s autumn season, seemed to be complete and utter luck. The aroma of coffee and French toast lingered throughout the house and for a moment, he reminisced about his childhood days when his mother made everyone pancakes and fresh orange juice and danced in the kitchen to Motown music. His mother was an inspiration and the epitome of living life to the fullest. Ian grew up listening to greats such as Otis Redding, Sam Cooke, and Aretha Franklin. His favorite thing to do as a kid was sing backup with his mom holding a whisk and him holding a wooden spoon. Of course, no self respecting male would ever admit such behavior to anyone but the memories remained locked in his heart forever. His father never understood such silly behavior, which is why Ian’s mother finally left him when Ian was young. He hastily remarried and forgot about his first born son. The rejection of a father was incredibly difficult for a young man entering adolescence but the support of Ian’s mother guided him through the darkness. He never really strayed off toward the path of delinquency and mayhem and credit will always be given to his mother. Of course, she also remarried an excellent role model who quickly became a mentor to Ian; Maggie’s father.
Anthony D’Amato took care of Ian’s mother and he always treated Ian as though they were blood relatives. A hard-working corporate attorney, Mr. D’Amato spent many hours at the office but always insisted on being present for Ian’s important sports events. When Maggie entered the picture early into the new marriage, it seemed the family was now complete. Ian missed his parents a great deal and always wondered if they thought he was doing well with Maggie’s upbringing. He thought they would, but every son wants the approval of his parents and Ian would never be able to completely achieve that.
“Wake up sleepy head! It’s time for breakfast!” Maggie sings down the hallway. An apparent natural with a cast, she had managed to make French toast and brew coffee even with a broken arm. Was there anything this girl could not do? Ian rubbed his eyes and walked to the kitchen to see a truly beautiful spread. Sliced fresh fruit, creamers and warm maple syrup was placed on the table with a carafe of orange juice with two small glasses by each plate.
“Maggie, this is phenomenal. How in the world did you do this all by yourself?” Ian asked, somewhat flabbergasted. He wouldn’t have been able to make this look so good even with both hands.
“Well, it was a bit difficult at first, but once I got used to the fact that I would have to do one thing at a time, it was okay. It’s not that hard only using one hand. I’m just lucky I’m not left handed!” It was probably a good thing that they were so far apart in age as Maggie definitely would have been the golden child of the family. Her glass half full and ability to never do anything wrong probably would have driven Ian mad. However, they don’t have a sibling rivalry at this point and Ian appreciated her competence and independence.
“Ian, I just wanted to do something nice for you. I know you said it wasn’t a big deal that your night was cut short, but you really needed to go out and socialize. All you do is work and take care of me. You are still young and you live like an old man!” Ian wasn’t quite sure how to take Maggie’s observation. He wanted to be offended, but he knew that she was just trying to make a point.
“I see people, Maggie. It’s not like I sit smoking a pipe doing crossword puzzles! In fact, I was planning on going for a run with my friend, Jenna today.” Ian replied indignantly. Granted, he and Jenna hadn’t made specific plans but there was a great chance that they would bump into one another, so it wasn’t a complete falsehood.
“You know what I mean, Ian. Anyway, I just think you need to get yourself out there more. When we lived in D.C. you had an awesome social life. I don’t want life to pass you by.” Maggie explained in a tone that almost resembled his mother’s.
“Okay, point taken. How did you become so profound in all of your thirteen and three quarters years?” Ian asked.
“The power of television dear brother. It’s an amazing tool left in the right hands.”’
Chapter Twenty
I decided to take a nap after the eventful brunch with my mother. After all, there was still much needed recovery from the night before. I wonder at what age we stop having the ability to drink compulsively and function on a few hours of sleep. I clearly remember going out with my friends and drinking till four or five in the morning to then sleep for a couple of hours and awaken fresh for class later on. I do not, however, remember when it all stopped, the resilience that is. I can guarantee Saturday night’s little soiree will set me back a good two or three days. The mere idea that I was able to get up this morning to go to brunch was pure fear of my mother and lack of tolerance for her lectures. If it was my job, I would have played the “24-hour flu” card. An employee has no more than two cards per year though and must use them wisely. A newcomer to the “real world” must use caution when socializing on a work night as there is a fine line between overdoing it and being in complete denial. One must learn that eventually, the college stamina goes away and we eventually become grown-ups. Depressing really, isn’t it? Yes, I completely agree.
My afternoon nap was interrupted by Mya calling to check up on my debilitating condition. Although, I think she really wanted to find out if Jake called me. With my mother’s lie, my wretched hangover and Jenna’s life falling apart, I had actually forgotten that I was supposed to call him. Seriously, it is no wonder why I am chronically single. I get distracted with other things so easy!
“Natalie, how could you forget to call him? That would be all I�
�d be thinking about the whole morning! Actually, that is all I’ve been thinking about! I have been waiting for you to call and tell me what’s going on!”
“Mya, you’re crazy. What is Kyle doing? Is he back from Seattle?” I ask, hoping to change the subject to something less focused on me.
“Yeah he got back a couple hours ago. It’s Sunday, which means football. Yuck! He does this dumb fantasy football thing where he and his friends bet or something. I don’t know, I don’t get it but Kyle loves it. I guess it’s a guy thing. I told him he could only have one football day a week. So, Sunday I spend all day studying and then he has to pamper me on Monday nights. I told him if the Seahawks played then he could get out of it though. I’m not a total hag.” Mya cackles. They are so domestic. They moved in with one another a few months ago and to listen to the stories, one would think they had been married for years. It’s kind of amusing actually.
“Anyway, stop changing the subject. Are you calling that hot guy or not?” Mya asks, not missing a beat. I see that I will not be able to avoid this.
“What if he was drunk, Mya? Maybe he doesn’t even remember.” I reply, hoping that as I talk myself out of calling, Mya will jump on the bandwagon.
“Natalie Everett, it will be fine. What do you have to lose, a night watching Golden Girls? Please! You are calling him and that is final. Call me and let me know what happens. Oooh this is so fun! I’m so excited for you.” Mya squeals. “Now that I’m practically married, I don’t get this anymore. First dates, first kisses-wondering if this might just be the ‘one.’ I kind of miss it. I need to live vicariously through you now!” As she continues, I can hear Kyle in the background shouting at the television.
“Well, if I’m going to call I need to get off the phone with you. I will call you with all the details.” And with that, I ended my conversation with Mya to now psyche myself up to call hot Ben Affleck guy. It is irrelevant how old you are or how many guys you have called in your lifetime, the first time you have to call a guy; it is just like being in 8th grade again.
I paced the floor for about five minutes trying to figure out my approach. After another ten minutes more, I evoked enough nerve to call, only to get his voicemail. Of course, he is probably screening his phone calls because he knows that the desperate girl he met last night will inevitably call him. Well, I called and that was the hardest part. I left a message, simply saying hi and put the ball in his court. I hate it when the ball is in their court. A guy in control leaves too much opportunity for female neuroticism. Perhaps it is simply Natalie Neuroticism, I don’t know, whatever it is, I don’t care for it and try to avoid it at all costs!
I really have no motivation to do anything remotely active so I plop myself down on my IKEA sofa, ready to watch Ocean’s Eleven. I decided that the best remedy to not think about hot men who don’t call is a movie with other hot men who would never call me because I am not a supermodel or movie star.
I sometimes wonder what would happen if I ever met a hot famous celebrity. Maybe suddenly I would run in the same circle (don’t ask me how, that part of the fantasy is too complicated.) Would Ewan McGregor see all of my fabulous qualities and forget that I am an ordinary chick with a maxed out credit card? You know, I really think he would. Yes, he would completely disregard any shortcomings I may have and totally fall in love with me. I just need to get the chance to show him what I have. We would stare into each other’s eyes and begin to sing love songs together, just like Moulin Rouge, without the courtesan part, of course. Granted, I know in real life, he may be married but it’s my fantasy and that is where all hot famous men are eternally single, waiting for me-even Freddie Prinze Jr. Oh yes, it’s true. I will always love him. He’s adorable.
The amusement of my delusions took my mind off of the phone call to the point that I had forgotten that he was even supposed to call me back. You can imagine my surprise when the phone actually rang. I had convinced myself that he wouldn’t call me because, let’s face it, they rarely follow through. However, I hadn’t slept with him yet, which does increase the possibility quite a bit. It’s getting the call afterwards that is usually slim to none. Not that I have ever experienced that! Well, if we’re going to be delusional, then I can just say that I’m a virgin and be done with it! I know, who am I kidding? Stop the insanity and answer the phone!
“Hello?” I answer in my most aloof manner.
“Hey, how’s it going?” He asked with a slow, deep tone. His voice was somewhat hoarse, as though he smoked too many cigarettes last night and was now reaping the consequences. It was sexy though. My stomach fluttered.
“I feel like I was run over by a bus, but apart from that, life is grand! How are you feeling?”
“I didn’t get up until an hour ago. I just got out of the shower. In fact, I’m standing in my boxers right now.” He laughed. The image of that hot piece of man standing in the middle of his room in boxers, wet black hair and glistening skin almost made me, well, you can just imagine.
“So, I was thinking about going to see that new Tom Cruise movie. Are you up for it?” He was so confident and casual. Although the mere thought of him made me flush, I was quite comfortable talking to him. Perhaps his calmness helped me relax or it could have been the high that I felt from euphoria. Regardless, I was going to the movies with an absolutely yummy man and it was about time! Apart from a wretched blind date I went on a few months ago, I had not been out with a guy for close to nine months, which means I had gone without other necessities as well. I was about ready to explode and in dire need of male attention.
“Well, what time were you thinking?” Someone once told me that a woman shouldn’t seem too available when making plans with a new man. The game is so difficult sometimes. You can’t seem too eager, but you want the guy to know that you are still interested. You want to go do things with him, but not too often because he will think you are at his disposal. Why does it have to be so complicated? Why can’t we just say, “I like you, you like me, let’s hook up. I will call you when I say I will and if I think it’s not going to work out, I will let you know instead of stringing you along and sleeping with you at least once.” Of course, that would be boring and I know that any man like that would lose my interest in about an hour. No, I like to go for the ambiguous and horny male that loves me and leaves me.
“There is a movie starting at 6:15 at the Cornell Cinemas. That’s close to our neighborhood. So, how about you meet me at 6:10?”
“Um, okay. Well, don’t you think that’s kind of pushing it close? I mean, no, that’s fine. I’ll be there at 6:10.” God, Natalie, don’t let him know you are a neurotic freak by the first date! You can handle the possibility of maybe walking into the theater as the lights go down. Be cool!
“Tell you what. I will get there at 6:00. I’ll be there playing video games with the other 13 year old kids.”
“Okay, sounds good. I’ll see you later.” Oh my god what am I going to wear?????
Mya came over to help me put together some potential ensembles. Apparently, Kyle was so absorbed with football that he hadn’t said more than a few mumbles to her all day. She was studying for a test on Monday but was so annoyed with her boyfriend’s behavior that she couldn’t concentrate. My desperate call was music to her ears.
“Okay Nat. I think you should wear your black skinny jeans with your black Nine West stiletto boots and the long red v-neck cashmere sweater. Here, wear my leather jacket. It looks great with the boots.” Mya says as she takes the jacket off to put next to the rest of the outfit lying on my bed.
“Mya I am not wearing your leather jacket. I’m a vegetarian.” I respond indignantly.
“Yes, well, last time I checked, those were not Stella McCartney fake leather boots, so wear the jacket. You will look hot.” I didn’t feel like arguing with her and as ashamed as I was, the jacket did end up looking really amazing once it was all put together.
“Okay my darling. Hair is shiny and fizz free, nails look well rounded and bre
ath is minty fresh. If I were a man, I’d do you. You are hot.” Mya gave me the stamp of approval and I was out the door.
When I got to the theater, I wasn’t sure if I was going to pay for my own ticket or not and I didn’t see Jake anywhere. Logically, I would think that he should pay for them since he invited me. However, he probably spent at least $50 on our drinks alone last night and so I wouldn’t be totally insulted if I had to pay for my own movie. Luckily though, he did pay. Jake walked outside to greet me with open arms, two tickets and a nice hug that allowed me to get a whiff of his scrumptious cologne-not too heavy, just right.
Disillusion Meets Delight Page 7
