by Xavier Neal
I push down the lump of ire building. “I ain’t got nothin’ to say to you.”
Sienna steps to the same side I do to continue her thwarting. “You’re pissed.”
There’s no agreement out of my mouth.
“And I get it. I’m sor-”
“Don’t even fucking bother with that bullshit.”
I shake my head and move to the opposite side, only to have her sway her body once more in the way. “Listen-”
“No.”
“Let me explain-”
“No.” The firmness in my tone increases. “I’m done listening to excuses, Sienna. Move.”
Her arms fly across her chest as she digs her heels into the situation. “No.”
“Please don’t make me pick your ass up and physically move you to the side.”
“You wou-”
I do just as I threatened.
Swiftly, I place my hands on her hips, lift her, and locate her to the side so I can resume my exit.
To no surprise, she darts past me and plasters herself against the front door. “Where do you think you’re goin’?”
“Out.”
For a drink.
For a smoke.
For…I don’t know…an action movie and a bucket of popcorn?
Just something to get my mind off of her.
“What do you mean out?”
“Out the door that’s right behind you.”
“You can’t just leave! We need to fucking talk!”
“About?”
She harshly glares. “What happened tonight.”
Her displeased stare is immediately returned. “It’s obvious what happened tonight.”
“I-”
“Had a work crisis or emergency or lost track of fucking time tits deep in frosting or sprinkles or fucking fondue! You didn’t bother to answer a call or a text or listen to a goddamn voicemail because whatever the fuck you were workin’ on was more important than watchin’ your fuckin’ son on stage!” Holding my volume down is difficult. “It’s fine, Aunty Mommy. Shit happens.”
“What the fuck did you just call me?” Sienna growls.
“Exactly what you’ve been for the past few months.”
“Excuse me?!”
“You heard me. You’re actin’ more like a flaky aunt, which by the way, even Kenny’s flakiest aunt was there tonight.”
“You’re gonna look me in the face and call me flaky when you literally phoned in a good portion of your relationship with them for the first two years!?”
“I was still here!” I shout, body shaking uncontrollably. “I still made the goddamn effort to be here! I still answered my fuckin’ phone! Texts! Commented on all the damn pictures and videos and whatever the fuck else I could! I may have been miles away at times, but I was still here, Sienna! I was still in their lives and yours! And I would never…never have missed this moment like you did.”
Tears are beginning to congregate in the corners of her eyes. “You’re actin’ like I missed his fucking high school graduation! It was just a play!”
“It was so much more than that.” My growl forces her head to bump against the door. “And if you weren’t so fuckin’ blinded by your own…need to succeed, you’d be able to see that. You’d be able to see that our shy little boy did something spectacular. He made this decision. He worked his ass off day in and day out to memorize those lines and those songs. He got up on that stage in front of a shit ton of strangers and gave a jaw dropping performance. He finally committed to something other than givin’ me gray hair, and you couldn’t put your own shit aside to be there to witness his moment.”
She inhales a sharp shaky breath at the same time tears tumble downward.
“Now, you can move out of my way, or I can once more move you. Your choice.”
This time Sienna steps to the side.
I thank her with a nod and reach for the handle. “There’s no need to worry. I’ll be home in time to run my boys around in the morning.”
The venomous words sting my lips as much as they hurt her to hear.
Unlike a normal man my age who would probably head to the nearest bar or titty bar to burn away his anger, I decide to swing by the closest gas station, grab a pack of smokes, and go for a long drive. It’s no shock to me when the random, mindless-like adventure has me ending up on my parent’s property.
Where the fuck else would I go beside here or Big Foot’s when I need advice?
When I need to know how I stop from losing my sanity.
My stroll up to the porch is instantly ceased at the unexpected vision in front of me. I drop my gaze to the ground and shake my head. “Why are y’all sittin’ outside naked?”
“What’s better than an ice-cold beer and a good breeze on the boys?” Pop chortles.
Why does that sound like future me talking?
Mama’s question is more appropriate. “Why are you on our front door step nearin’ midnight?”
I venture a look only to see them still clothe-less. My eyes can’t drop fast enough. “You kickin’ me away?”
“Never,” Mama sweetly replies, “but we ain’t puttin’ on pants for ya.”
“A blanket will do,” my retort is proceeded by me walking forward, attention still pinned on the ground.
There’s a grunt and a few ruffling sounds before I reach the steps. Once I do, I gather the courage to send my stare upward, thankful to see her wrapped in a blanket and a pillow covering Pop’s crotch.
“Good enough,” I sigh and drop down onto the bottom stair.
“You need a beer,” Pop immediately observes. “Here.”
Leaning over, I grab the bottle, remove the top, and rest my large frame against the railing.
“What’d you do?” Mama inquires.
I turn my focus her direction.
“You boys are always pissin’ off those women who were crazy enough to marry you. And every time you do, you end up here, usually at our kitchen table interruptin’ our peaceful lives,” she explains.
“Less peaceful each time we gotta restart the engine.” Pop motions his bottle towards his dick.
“That’s an unneeded picture,” I mutter between sips.
“What’s goin’ on?” Mama pushes. “Get to talkin’.”
Unconsciously, my head shakes in denial.
Where do I even begin?
How do you tell your parents, the people you admire, the people you have spent your whole life looking up to because they always put family first that the woman you married can’t or won’t?
“Sienna fucked up,” Pop inserts into the conversation, grabbing my gaze. “Right?”
I slowly nod.
“’Cause she missed Kenny’s play tonight?” Mama quickly pries.
“Because she misses everything, Mama!” The snap startles all three of us.
“And why are we gettin’ yelled at?” Pop investigates.
“Sorry…” My sheepish apology is met with smirks. “I’m just…frustrated. How do you make someone care about their family?”
“You can’t,” Mama promptly replies. “You can’t make other people do anything, Eddie. People do what they’re gonna do all on their own time.”
“That’s the thing, Mama. Sienna should already care about us. About me. About our sons. This whole givin’ a shit thing shouldn’t be new. She’s their fuckin’ mother for cryin’ out loud.”
“You’re takin’ her inability to balance life as her not carin’, which is wrong.”
“So, I’m wrong!?” The outrage is instant. “I’m the one fuckin’ up their lives? This marriage?”
“Quit yellin’,” Pop commands sharply.
My oscillation of stifled emotions has me grabbing the cigarettes out of my pocket.
Mama glares at the package. “Thought you quit.”
“Thought I had too.”
“Put ‘em down,” Pop encourages.
Tossing the pack to the side, I guzzle down another gulp.
Mama firmly b
egins, “Edward Montgomery Shaw, you listen, and you listen good.”
I fight the urge to smirk at the thought of the numerous lectures starting with those exact words.
“Everyone on God’s green earth is not like you.”
Thank fuck for that…
“Everyone doesn’t know from the minute they learned to crawl what it is they’re set out to do or who is it they’re born to become.” Her words warrant my gaze. “Sienna isn’t like you. Sure, you’re both hot tempered and trouble is a middle name you share, but that girl has spent most of her life lost. Hidin’ whoever it is she wanted to be whenever it is she wanted to be it. She has moved through time bein’ who everyone else wants her to be, her husband included.”
“Mama I-”
“Boy, I am still talkin’.”
The scolding seals my lips.
“You wanted her to be your wife. She said yes. You wanted her to be the mother of your children. So she became it. You wanted her to stay at home and be…me because you wanted your kids to have what you did, so she tried. This woman came from a narrow-minded fuckin’ family where she fought to have the little individuality she managed to have.”
My shoulders plummet.
“This is the first time in her whole goddamn life, Eddie, she has more than everyone else’s dream. She finally has a bit of hers, too. It’s gonna take some time for her to see more than that. It’s gonna take some time for her to grasp how to be the mom she wants, the wife she wants, and the Sienna she wants. She’s just strugglin’ on this part of her journey. It doesn’t mean she doesn’t love you or your kids. It doesn’t mean things will always be this hard. It just means you’re reachin’ that other part of your marriage they talk about in vows. For worse.”
“Think about marriage like this,” Pop surprisingly interjects. “It’s no different than anything else you build. At first, it’s shiny and new. As close to perfect as it can get. You’re happy. Proud. But like anything else that’s built, there’s gonna be wear and tear. There’s gonna be the need for maintenance. Pieces and parts replaced. And every once in a while, you gotta completely scrap the shit to start new.”
Confusion is immediate. “Are you tellin’ me to get a divorce?”
“God, you boys are dumb.” He rolls his eyes. “How’d they turn out this dumb?”
“You,” Mama snickers.
Pop shoots her a crooked smirk before redirecting his attention to me. “I’m tellin’ you that sometimes you gotta get rid of everything that used to work in your marriage and spend some time searchin’ for shit that’s gonna work now.”
The nuggets of wisdom send my beer soaring back to my lips.
Huh.
They’ve both got good points.
I can’t remember a time when I didn’t know exactly what I wanted or didn’t have the balls to just go for it. That’s how I got Sienna. That’s how I got my job. Fuck, that’s how I quit my job. At every corner, every turn, every goddamn avenue, I knew what I wanted and did it. It’s hard to fathom living a life where that’s not a possibility or even an option until you’re stuck somewhere the rest of the world put you. No. I don’t want to be second to Sienna’s job, but I also don’t want her feeling like she should have to be a slave to a life she didn’t choose. We gotta scrap everything that worked when the roles were reversed and start fresh.
She’s not me.
I’m not her.
And this is where we redraw the building plans of our marriage.
Chapter 15
“He barely spoke to me this morning, Dawn.” My head hits the back of the couch. “I can handle an angry and loud Eddie, but a quiet one?” I shut my eyes tight to stop the tears from returning. “It’s like he’s completely given up.”
Which, after having him dump the cold hard truth on me yesterday, I shouldn’t be surprised.
Yet I am.
Because I never thought I’d live to see the day something took down my Superman.
Damn sure would’ve never guessed it would be me.
“Impossible,” my best friend sweetly sighs. “Eddie isn’t a quitter. And Shaw men don’t just…walk away from what they love or who they love. They fight like hell. Trust me on that. You know what Big Foot and I have been through these past few months. You know I’m not wrong.”
Guess marriage hell is just going around.
There’s no point in trying to hide my dejection. “What am I supposed to do, Dawn?”
“Do what they do,” she warmly suggests. “Keep fighting. Keep going at it. Keep on giving your marriage everything you’ve got.”
My confession is quiet, “And therein lies the problem.”
An all-knowing hum escapes her.
“I’ve been a shitty wife.”
“Not always.”
“Thanks, Dawn.”
“Hey, we don’t lie to each other, remember? We have each other’s backs. We tell each other the good, the bad, the sexy, and the how long will my prison sentence be if I do this.”
Usually longer than we think…
“You have been a shitty wife lately. And not the greatest best friend. Or greatest sister-in-law. Or daughter-in-law. Or-”
“I get it.” The words taste like vinegar. “And thank you for skipping over the mom failure. Not sure I could handle hearing it a third time.”
“Not sure you needed to.”
I slide my body onto my side, keeping the phone pressed to my ear. “How do you do it, Dawn? How do you…have your dream job, be the world’s best mom, and the perfect wife without ever fucking up?”
Her laugh is loud as well as immediate. It takes her so long to stop, for a brief moment I’m worried she’s forgotten I’m even on the phone. Finally, she lets out a heavy exhale and says, “Thanks. I needed that.”
“Didn’t realize I was joking…”
“You know damn well you’re joking,” she snips. “Yeah, I have all those things, but none of it goes off without a hitch. This week alone I had a new slew of trolls leave hateful I’m anti-feminist shit in the comment section of my videos, a woman throw splashes of holy water on the twins during a tantrum in the grocery store, and got into an argument so heated with Big Foot, I switched his normal hot sauce for Ghost Chili Pepper hot sauce, then smirked in his face when he reached for the empty carton of milk, the subject of the earlier conversation.”
“Wow,” I croak out, voice dripping with amusement. “How did I miss all that shit?”
“And we’re back to bein’ a shitty friend.”
The shame returns.
“In the beginning, we all understood. You know, people get new jobs and shit has to change. You have to adjust. Everything can’t be exactly what it was, but that doesn’t mean you have to leave everything you knew and who you were behind. Don’t get me wrong. I’m so happy you’re happy. You’re finally baking and working in a commercial kitchen, something you’ve wanted to do for so long. Plus, you’ve made new friends, and your boss obviously adores you. However, you nearly missed Abby’s and Blake’s wedding, along with London’s and Oliver’s reception, because of this job, because you couldn’t or wouldn’t tell your boss no. You completely flaked out of the twins birthday, again, because you couldn’t or wouldn’t say no to working. And then you missed your own son’s spotlight moment because…well…”
“Work.”
“Family first. Work second.” Her pause is just long enough for her to fuss at one of the kids in the background. “Truth is Sienna, when you put family first, those rare occasions when you wanna put your job ahead of them, they’re more inclined to be supportive about it rather than resentful.”
A contemplative hum escapes.
“Mom, we found a frog!” One of the twins shouts. “Can we keep it?! Dad said we could keep it!”
“Can we all him Curly!?!” The other yells.
Dawn lets out what sounds like a weary sigh. “Is it too early for a glass of wine?”
“Not in my life.”
We share a few s
nickers, sweetly leave each other love, and end the call.
Afterwards, I simply lie still, a million thoughts running through my mind.
This is something I used to only get to do before I was going to bed. When I was staying home with the kids, my own real down time was when I was on my way to passing out. I don’t necessarily miss that, but I damn sure miss running around with them. I miss knowing if it’s time for baseball or soccer or which cousin’s birthday party. I miss sneaking around the house, getting in little rub rub sessions with my husband while our kids are occupied with Legos or racecars. There’s so much shit I miss in one aspect of my life, yet, at the same time, there’s so much shit I don’t want to give up in the other one. I adore spending most of my day smelling like some sort of baked good. I get a good ego boost from the compliments regarding my food and a kick in the confidence keister when clients seem floored with my knowledge regarding recommendations. I also absolutely adore getting the occasional drink or bite with my co-worker and boss. They’re honestly both more like friends than just people I work with. At the rate we’re going, they’ll be like family before I know it.
