Perception

by A. L. Waddington

  My dad shifted his weight uncomfortably, considering the full ramifications of saying yes despite how much I knew he would truly love a home cooked family Thanksgiving dinner like the ones his family had had before he married my mother.

  “Please thank your family for the very considerate invitation. I would absolutely love to. However, I have some concerns about how both my son and my wife would react to the offer, and I am very concerned about how they would behave if they came,” he rambled nervously.

  Jackson smiled considerately. “I understand. I know that there are still some ill feelings about the future of our relationship.” He glanced in my direction and slipped his arm around my waist. “Yet, my family and I were hoping that this would be a good opportunity for us all to get together, sit down and calmly discuss and finally put to rest any apprehensions.”

  “If it were only that easy,” Dad chuckled. “As educated as my wife is, I am afraid that she forgot to take the course on interpersonal communications. She doesn’t exactly handle confrontations with style and grace.” Despite myself, I snickered at his words. “That being said, please tell your parents I appreciate their invitation and apologize because I must decline. However, Jocelyn can go as long as she promises to bring me some leftovers and a piece of homemade pumpkin pie.”

  “Of course.”

  “Thanks, Daddy.” I hugged him briefly before turning towards Jackson. “I need to get ready. You want to hang out here and wait?”

  Jackson glanced over at the archway leading into the living room where Ethan was still watching the game and grinned slightly. “How about I return in an hour to escort you to dinner?”

  “Okay.” I leaned up and kissed him quickly on the cheek.

  ***

  I stood in front on my closet, staring stupidly at my wardrobe.

  “He’s much better looking than I remembered from your birthday.” Sidney’s voice came from my doorway before she entered my room. She closed my door and sat down on the corner of my bed. She picked up one of my throw pillows and fumbled with it thoughtlessly. “I can see why you are so taken with him.”

  All I could do was smile over in her direction. My stomach was in knots and I was so nervous about seeing Jackson’s extended family for the first time here. It was so bizarre for me to even consider how they appeared on this plane. My only images were those from there and thinking of them in modern attire was unimaginable to me.

  “You do realize that marriage is not just a ring around your finger, Jocelyn. It’s more like a noose around your neck.”

  I turned and gave her a dirty look.

  “That’s a pleasant way of looking at marriage.”

  “Seriously, look at our parents. You can’t tell me they’re happy?” The tone of her voice dropped.

  “No, they’re not. I know that. I live here,” I admitted and joined her on my bed. “I think they’ve drifted apart over the years.”

  “Drifted apart?” she snorted. “That’s a mild understatement. They have nothing in common. They don’t spend any time together.” Her matter-of-fact admission hit home hard.

  “I know people grow and change over the years, but you have to grow and change together. You also have to have some things in common that you can discuss and share. Also, I believe it is essential that each has their own personal hobby or activity. Something that allows you to escape . . . relax and gives you peace after a long stressful day.” She gave me a weird look. “You know what I mean, something simple like reading a book or writing in a journal or whatever. Something that is just for you.”

  “I suppose. I know Mom and Dad still golf together,” she shrugged. “But I don’t think that they like each other very much. It’s more like they’re together more out of habit than love.”

  “I’d like to believe they still love each other.”

  “Maybe.” She shrugged again. “Who knows anymore?” Sidney shook her head as if clearing her thoughts. “So what are you going to wear?”

  Dread settled back over me once more. “I don’t know. What do you think?”

  “For meeting his siblings for the first time? I’d go with something casual but classy.”

  “Such as?” My limited wardrobe contained no such items. I had very few reasons for dressing up and therefore, almost all my clothes were school casual.

  “Hang on.” She sprang from my bed and headed for the door. “I’ve got the perfect outfit.” I chuckled to myself as I listened to her footsteps banging on the stairs leading to her third floor bedroom.

  Sidney’s room was enormous, not only in size but in pure uniqueness. One corner was a curved column, there were wooden ceiling beams, and everything in the room screamed Sidney. My dad had remodeled the space that had once been Mimi and Eddie’s quarters into a modern playground of sorts for her when we were young. I was always so jealous of her room, not only because of its sheer size, but because she had her own private luxury bathroom and walk-in closet.

  Sidney bounced back into the room and handed the outfit to me. I glanced over the articles and wrinkled my forehead. We have always had such drastically different styles and this was all her. “Will you trust me for once?” she laughed.

  “All right, but if Jackson doesn’t recognize me, it’ll be your fault,” I stated with skepticism.

  I slipped off my robe and climbed into her tan slacks with dark brown pin stripes, a sheer cream colored loose flowing blouse with oversized ruffles along the cuffs and some that elongated down the front and around the neck, and a darker brown oversized sweater jacket with cream and blue specks embedded in it. I stood in front of the mirror staring at a reflection I didn’t recognize.

  “Stop kidding around, Jocelyn,” she laughed. “I swear, your fashion sense is nonexistent.” She walked up behind me and pulled the neck ruffle out from under the jacket and untied the knot of the sweater I’d tied in front of me. She spun me around and tied it around my back, hanging loosely so that I couldn’t even tell it was tied.

  “Sorry,” I giggled and had to admit her small touches made a world of difference.

  “Isn’t this sweet . . . my two daughters playing dress-up. You two didn’t even do this when you were young.” Our mother, Amy, stood in my doorway watching us, but no smile crossed her lips. “Where are you planning on going, Jocelyn?” Immediately, my palms began to sweat.

  “I was invited over to the Chandler’s for Thanksgiving dinner,” I replied in a low voice.

  “I thought you were done with all that nonsense,” she scowled.

  “Mom . . . please, we were all invited. Dad just didn’t think you’d want to go.”

  “And he’s right. Why would I want to ruin my holiday with people who couldn’t care less about my daughter’s education and her future?” she said with a hateful tone.

  “That’s not true. If you’d listen to us for once . . .” I tried to explain, but she cut me off.

  “Listen to you? I have listened to you.” She walked slowly towards us in an almost menacing fashion that took me by surprise. “I have heard all about this wedding nonsense, this crap about being in love and meant to be together and happily ever after,” she scoffed. “Let me tell you something my darling daughter, there is no such thing as happily ever after and when this little charade blows up in your face and you’re left on your own to take care of yourself and your children, you’d better hope you can support all of you on your own before you and your kids end up as another welfare statistic.”

  Her words burned into my deepest fears. Even Sidney looked shock at our mother’s words.

  “Mom, Jackson would never . . .”

  “You are so naïve. Do you have any idea how many single moms I see every day, bringing their children in for check-ups or whatever, who dropped out of school and can’t get the poor bastard to pay child support? They all get stuck in meaningless dead-end jobs and living off the system. I hate to see you become one of them.” She shook her head slightly before turning to leave the room.

  “
I won’t. We’ll prove you wrong,” I taunted. “I’ll finish my graduate degree, you wait and see. Jackson and I can do this with or without your support.”

  My mother paused at my door with her hand on the doorknob and her back still towards us. In a low voice, I distinctly heard her say, “No . . . you won’t. You’re not special enough.”

  Tears welled up in my eyes before I could even get angry. Mom closed the door behind her and within seconds, her own bedroom door slammed shut.

  I sat down at my vanity and blotted my eyes. “Don’t let her get to you.” Sidney came over and placed her hands on my shoulders. “You don’t want to go over to Jackson’s all red eyed.” She leaned in a little closer. “Besides, Jocelyn, you are the most stubborn person I have ever met in my entire life. I know that once you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything if for no other reason than to prove everyone wrong. If you say you can do this, I know you can.”

  “Thanks, Sid,” I squeaked.

  She smiled brightly. “Now, let’s get your hair and make-up done. Jackson will be here soon.”

  ***

  Jackson arrived on time and we left without incident. We walked slowly across the yards. I wanted to be in good spirits, but my mother’s words kept ringing in my ears. I couldn’t believe how cruel she could be when she put her mind to it. She had never spoken to me before with such malice and contempt. I hated to think that our relationship was beyond repair, but I was beginning to believe it was riding that line.

  The chilly wind whipped around us, causing Jackson to place his arm protectively around me. He smiled over at me in such a way that it renewed my faith in our love for one another. At least I could take some comfort in knowing that there were still some individuals in this world . . . and my other, who believed I was special.

  ***

  I snuggled down beneath my comforter with glorious thoughts running amuck in my brain. Phoebe and Alex were all that I remembered and more. It was odd in a strange sense to meet their other spouses here when in my memories of them they were married to Silas and Veronica. Here they were married to Carson and Leslie—very sweet, funny, and thoughtful individuals but strangely, nothing even similar to their counterparts. I spent a large portion of the afternoon and evening attempting to wrap my brain around their bizarre situations. It was just plain weird.

  I spent the next several hours tossing and turning trying to understand how they managed their dual lives and dual relationships. I couldn’t imagine being consciously aware of both planes and being married and intimate with two separate people who were so drastically different from one another. I realized again just how truly lucky I was to have Jackson . . . someone whom I could travel through both my lives with, love, laugh with and stand beside me through both the good and the bad times. As rare as our gift supposedly was, it truly was a miracle that we managed to find each other in this crazy world. The acknowledgement of that finally gave my mind the peace and solace I’d been searching for since I’d crawled into bed. I smiled softly to myself and drifted off into a dreamless sleep.

  CHAPTER 2

  Saturday, November 30, 1878

  WALKING AROUND in a daze would be an understatement based on how I was feeling. Things were full speed ahead once again for the wedding and my poor mother, Annabelle, and Jackson’s mother, Emily, were now scrambling to make up the time they had lost while Jackson and I were separated. According to them, they had lost precious hours in finalizing the smallest details. My mother was continually hounding me about my dress until finally Emily spoke up and reassured her that it was all taken care of and that it was going to be a surprise. I could tell by her face that my mother wasn’t happy with it, but she choked it down and kept quiet. I think she was simply happy that the wedding was back on and didn’t want anything to rock the boat.

  Jackson and my brother, William, took off early in the morning under a cloud of suspicion. Even William’s wife, Olivia, had no idea what the two of them were up to. The only thing they would tell us was that with the holidays and the wedding quickly approaching now was not the time to ask questions. I suppose there was a lot of that going around.

  After breakfast I headed over to Jackson’s sister’s house. It was only a short walk from ours and the air was unusually warm and comfortable despite being gray and unpleasant looking out. The leaves had left the trees and the ground was littered in a vast array of colors. I casually strolled down the cobblestones, enjoying the sound of my feet on the rocks and the crunching of leaves beneath me.

  Phoebe had invited me over Thursday after dinner to help her with some sewing she had fallen behind on. She said that she was so busy with the baby that she never got everything done that she intended to throughout the day. Her house was much smaller than ours and her parents’, but it was a beautiful starter home, as she called it. Her husband, Silas, was a teacher at the grade school and made an all right living. He truly loved working with the children and Phoebe had told me once that the satisfaction and enjoyment he got from work was well worth the pay grade. She said it made him a much more pleasant individual to live with than someone who hated their career. I hadn’t thought much of it when she’d said it in passing shortly after they were married, but looking back I can’t help but wonder if perhaps she was referring to Carson.

  Phoebe answered the door with her eighteen-month-old son, Wallace, on her hip and a little smudged flour across her cheek. The little guy smiled broadly and reached out for me as soon as he saw me.

  “Good morning, Phoebe.” I lifted her son from her arms. “Busy morning?” I laughed.

  “Good morning, Jocelyn,” she sighed deeply, wiping her brow only to smear more flour across her forehead. “And yes, it has been a very busy morning. Please come in.” She stood aside and closed the door behind me. I followed her into the kitchen as she rattled on, seemingly unaware of her surroundings. “Ever since this little guy decided to become mobile, I cannot seem to get anything accomplished. Katie has been a God-send. I do not know what I would do without her. She has been doing so much more than her normal chores because this little man,” she leaned over and tickled the cherub-looking baby and making him laugh aloud, “believes that everything needs to be dumped out onto the floor.”

  “I am sure it is just a phase he is going through,” I attempted to give her hope.

  “I hope so. I don’t know how my mother did it with three of us or how your mother managed with five. And four of them boys!” She sighed heavily. “This one is enough to make me insane.” Phoebe began kneading the dough on the island block.

  “It will get better,” I assured her.

  “Soon, I hope. Silas already wants another one and I am not sure if I do.”

  “Wallace does need a playmate.”

  “That’s the same argument he uses, but of course he is not the one who has to get fat, give birth, and then stay home and take care of both children.” She smirked and leaned over towards me and whispered, “I really miss my office sometimes here.” Then she stopped short and her face went pale. “I’m so sorry. I know your barrier is coming down, but I’m not sure how much you know.”

  “Not to worry, I recall the majority of things. Not all, but the gap is closing.”

  “Good. I remember how frustrating it was. I could not tell what was real or what was imaginary. I thought for sure I was losing my mind.”

  “I’m in touch with that emotion,” I laughed.

  We finished the bread and retired to the family room to work on her sewing. Little Wallace was down for his morning nap and Silas was in his office preparing his lessons for the upcoming week.

  The warmth from the fire was just enough to take a bit of chill out of the air. I believe it was warmer outside than in although I did not say so aloud. We sat in silence for a short time while Phoebe recomposed herself. She appeared tired and worn out. She looked nothing like her elegant, refined, professional business-minded self of 2009. It would be difficult to be a high powered criminal attorney in Boston
who was quick-witted, instinctively clever, and amazingly brilliant in the modern world and literally overnight switching to the role of a housewife, whose days revolved around diapers, baking, sewing, and cleaning. Then I realized that I too would soon be seated in her shoes and faced with the same prospects that she was trying to accept.

  “May I ask you a question, Phoebe?”

  “Of course,” she smiled gently.

  “How do you do it? The dual lives I mean. Isn’t it difficult at best?” I inquired in a very low voice.

  She looked around making sure we were alone before she answered, “Yes, sometimes very. Then at other times, this life is a nice break from the hectic schedule of my life there. Here I get the chance to really enjoy Wallace in a fashion that I would never be able to there. I could never imagine being a stay-at-home mother there. For some women, it’s what they want out of life and that’s wonderful for them. For you and me, well . . . we get the amazing opportunity to do both. We actually get to experience the best of both worlds in one lifetime. This gift or curse, whichever you believe it to be, gives us a rare opportunity to really have it all.”

  “And you really believe that?” I questioned with skepticism.

  “You don’t?” she raised her eyebrows.

  “For me, yes, I do. However, I believe our situations are quite different.”

  “How so?”

  “I will have the same husband on both planes,” I whispered softly.

  Phoebe’s smile broadened. “Yes, that does make our situation different. But I believe I would rather be in my shoes than yours or my mother’s where that is concerned,” she giggled a little and quickly placed her hand over her mouth.

  “Really? Why is that?”

  “I have variety in my life. I get a complete break from each world with the exception of Wallace, of course,” she smiled. “You will be able to appreciate my words more once you have been married for a while.”

  “You do not consider that adultery?” I whispered.

  “No.” She looked astonished at my words. “How can you even ask that?”