Nick. Oh, my God! It’s Nick! He’s standing at the door with a bouquet of flowers. In his expression there is a hint of confusion and disappointment masked by a pleasant smile.
“Congratulations,” he says stepping forward. He thrusts the bouquet into my hands and kisses my cheek. “Sorry, but . . . I can’t stay.”
“Nick . . .” But I don’t know what to say.
“Merry Christmas!” Then he departs.
“Who was that?” my mom asks distractedly. She turns to Sam. “Anyway . . . my soon to be son-in-law, let me introduce you to Darlene from my vegan cooking class.”
“Hello, is this Meredith Watt?”
“Yes.” The voice at the other end of the line was distant and tinny. “Who’s calling?”
“Aunt Meredith, it’s your niece Kerry calling.”
There was a long silence.
“Your brother Randall’s daughter?”
“I know who you are, dear,” she said in her strong British accent. “What is the reason for your call?”
Talk about getting to the point! Although, I was calling the U.K. from the U.S. so expediting this conversation would be prudent.
“Well,” I cleared my throat. “It’s about my wedding next summer. . . .” I trailed off.
“What about it, dear?”
“Ummm . . . well, we’ve had to cancel it.”
“Oh, my,” she said. “Whatever for?”
My brain scrambled to find the appropriate words. I had rehearsed my answer before I dialed, but somehow the words had deserted me. It was something about growing apart, pursuing our careers, not rushing into marriage when we weren’t ready . . . These were all lies, of course, but the truth was not something I could share with Aunt Meredith.
“We were growing apart. We wanted to pursue our careers. We didn’t want to rush into marriage when we weren’t ready.”
“Rush into marriage?” Aunt Meredith barked. “Haven’t you been living with this young man for several years?”
“Just two, but—”
“I’ll never understand you young people these days. You know each other two weeks and you move in together, but three years later you can’t get married because it’s rushing things!”
“Well, Aunt Meredith.” My cheeks were burning. “I didn’t move in with Hugh after two weeks. We actually dated for quite a while before we moved in together.”
“But now you think you’re rushing into marriage? In my day, you met a man, fell in love, and got married. And you stayed married! None of this living together, and separating and divorcing, and whatnot.”
“Anyway,” I said in an effort to cut the conversation short. I was on the verge of tears and had to get off the phone. “I wanted to let you know as soon as possible so you didn’t book your flight or anything like that.”
“Oh, don’t worry, dear. You’ve always been a flighty one. I wasn’t about to spend my hard-earned money on a plane ticket until I was sure it was going to happen.”
I hung up, feeling slightly sick to my stomach. I looked at the list in front of me: twelve more phone calls to make. Notifying the paternal relatives was my responsibility (my dad was too busy to get in touch with everyone). My mom was kind enough to handle her family.
I hoped the next relatives on the list would be a little less judgmental and more sympathetic. I wondered what Hugh was telling his family? I’m sure he was using a similar excuse—probably attributing our breakup to the pressures of his career. Hugh was in the first year of his residency at Northwest Hospital. No one could fault a doctor for working too hard.
“Kerry just couldn’t accept the fact that saving lives took up so much of my time,” he’d say.
“How cold and shallow,” they’d chorus, their voices full of sympathy. “Good thing you found out now, and not after you were married.”
Only a few people knew the real reason we broke up. Make that two: Sandra and Val. I wished I could have told my mother the truth, because she was continually looking at me and shaking her head. “Why would she call off her marriage to a wonderful guy like Hugh? Why? Why? And a doctor, no less!” I could read her mind. “How could I have raised such a fickle and impractical daughter?”
I picked up the phone to dial the next aunt on the list then placed the receiver back in its cradle. My mind had been wrenched back to that fateful night—the beginning of the end.
It was a rainy Saturday evening, and we were meeting a pair of Hugh’s oldest friends for drinks. They were in town for a few weeks over the summer. (Most of their year was spent in Mexico teaching scuba to tourists.) It had all started out so innocently. . . .
“I lived with Klaus and Lindsey for a year in Belize,” Hugh said, smiling fondly. His handsome, preppy face glowed with remembrance. I had heard this story before . . . often. After his biology degree, Hugh had applied to medical school. When he wasn’t accepted right away, he escaped to Belize, planning to drop out of society for a while, and indulge his passion for diving. That was where he met Klaus and Lindsey.
“God, we had fun,” he said, and I felt an uncomfortable twist in my stomach. It was painfully obvious that the year spent in Belize was the highlight of Hugh’s life and now—well . . . was just now. “I’ve never felt so free, so uninhibited,” he droned on. I gazed out the rain-spattered window of the taxi and tried to think of a comparable experience I could bring up.
“That’s how I felt when I was in France,” I said, hoping to give him a taste of his own medicine. “I felt more alive in France than I ever have.”
“Yeah, but you were only there for two weeks!” He laughed. “Can you imagine if you had stayed a year?”
I can imagine. If I had spent a year living in France, my life now would seem like a big disappointment, too.
Ours was not a healthy relationship—I can see that now. We were competitive and resentful of each other. At least I was. Hugh probably didn’t consider me worthy of competing with him. But everything he had ever done, all that he was going to be, made me feel inadequate. The incident with Klaus and Lindsey was really just the final straw. I should almost be thankful. I probably would have married him otherwise and been a divorcée with a couple of kids by now.
“Hugh!” They screamed as we entered the Spanish-style bar. I stood awkwardly, waiting to be acknowledged while they embraced and patted each other on the back. I took the opportunity to study them undetected. They were just what you would expect two diving instructors to look like: tanned, blond, fit, and gorgeous.
Hugh finally tore himself away from the love-in. “This is my fiancée, Kerry.”
“Hi,” I said rather awkwardly.
“Hi, Kerry,” Klaus said warmly, taking my hand and kissing my cheek.
“It’s so great to meet you,” Lindsey echoed, also pecking my cheek.
“Nice to meet you, too,” I said shyly. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. They were friendly and lively and affectionate. But it was going to be so bad . . . worse than so bad.
We ordered a jug of sangria from our Latin waiter. “Remember that little restaurant we used to go to?” Hugh said. “They had the best sangria there—with chunks of cantaloupe in it.”
“We went there last spring!” Lindsey squealed.
“God!” Hugh roared. “I’m so jealous!”
“Yeah, but remember the night you drank so much sangria that you were heaving everywhere?” Klaus jumped in. “And the next day you were so hungover that you couldn’t dive and you missed the manta ray!”
Ha, ha, ha.
“You were with that local girl then—Conchita, was it?” Klaus continued. Lindsey elbowed him and shifted her eyes in my direction. “Oh, shit. Sorry.”
“It was no big deal,” Hugh laughed, shrugging it off. “It was a long time ago.”
“No biggie,” I forced myself to laugh along with them, although deep down I felt like throwing a temper tantrum and knocking all the dishes to the floor. I was sick of hearing about all the good times they had diving with manta
rays and getting drunk with Conchita.
Lindsey changed the subject. “I can’t believe you’re getting married Hugh! You always said you were a free spirit and didn’t need a piece of paper to tie you down!”
Hugh laughed. “That was before I met Kerry.” He looked at me lovingly then, and I realized it was meant as a compliment. But inside I was seething. This was making me sound like a traditional fuddy-duddy who’d lassoed Hugh’s free spirit and beat it into submission.
“Tell us about the wedding?” Lindsey smiled. I searched for a hint of mocking in her tone. There didn’t seem to be any but maybe she was just really subtle?
“Well, it’s a long way off,” I responded. “Not until next summer so we haven’t done much besides book the church and—”
“The church?” Klaus and Lindsey shrieked in unison.
“I don’t believe it!” Klaus continued. “You are amazing, Kerry! You got him to marry you in a church!”
“Umm . . .” I blushed. “It’s important to my dad’s side of the family.”
“I understand,” Klaus said. “Nothing would make my mom happier than for Lindsey and me to get married, but we’re not going to let anyone define our relationship. Are we, hon?”
“Why mess with a good thing?” she said, staring into his eyes. Then they kissed very intimately, suddenly oblivious of our presence. When the waiter appeared with the next jug of sangria, I breathed a sigh of relief.
By the end of the night I had imbibed enough to numb myself to their constant reminiscence. To Hugh’s credit, he did try to include me in the conversation where possible, but it wasn’t easy: I didn’t dive. I’d never been to Belize. I’d never stayed up all night on a deserted beach dropping acid and frolicking naked in the waves.
On the bright side, Klaus was very flirtatious with me, which I must admit I enjoyed. He was really good looking in an outdoorsy, Scandinavian sort of way. His behavior didn’t seem to bother Lindsey and Hugh at all. I was hoping it would have had some effect on Hugh—maybe make him say to himself “Belize was fun, but now I have this beautiful fiancée that even my good friend Klaus can’t keep away from!” But he seemed completely indifferent.
When Hugh had paid the bill, we all stumbled outside to grab taxis. “Come over for a nightcap,” Lindsey pleaded, holding my coat sleeve. “Everything closes down so early here! In Mexico, we’d just be getting started.”
I looked to Hugh. “It is only midnight,” he said.
Klaus and Lindsey had rented a furnished condo in Capitol Hill for two months. We stumbled in noisily, and Hugh and I settled cozily on the tweedy couch. “Who wants wine?” Lindsey tripped into the room with a bottle and a corkscrew. Klaus followed with four glasses and a plastic baggie full of pot.
“Oh, gee,” I said as they passed the joint around. “I think I’ll pass.” I was on the verge of nausea already and felt sure that smoking anything would put me over the edge. I hated to add to my fuddy-duddy image by refusing the joint, but I hated the thought of throwing up more.
By 3 am I had hit the wall. The other three, unfortunately, were still giggling inanely and consuming more red wine. Hugh seemed oblivious of my exaggerated yawns and pointed looks. He was so wrapped up in being with Klaus and Lindsey again that he seemed oblivious of me, period.
Finally I excused myself and found the bathroom. I peed then splashed some cold water on my face, but it did little to revive me. I needed sleep. As much as I hated to put an end to his reunion, I was going to have to tell Hugh it was time to go. On the other hand, Hugh was still having a great time. Perhaps he could stay here while I went home to bed? But something about that didn’t feel right. No, I wanted him to come home with me. I’m sure Klaus and Lindsey would roll their eyes and make cracks about “the old ball and chain” after we left. I wished I could be the kind of girlfriend who could sit up all night smoking pot and drinking with his open-minded friends, but I functioned much better on eight hours of sleep. Besides, I had an appointment with a potential caterer tomorrow. With a deep, fortifying breath, I returned to the living room.
“Sorry to be a drag you guys,” I began, then stopped short. “Oh, my God!”
“Come on, Kerry,” Klaus said, reaching his hand out to me. “Join us.”
I averted my eyes. “Jeez . . . I—uh—ulp!” I said again.
“Come on, hon,” Hugh said. “It’s no big deal. Live a little.”
“Uh—uh—Hugh, ummm . . .” I was in a state of shock. What did one say in this situation? My head was reeling, my stomach churning. What was the appropriate reaction when you stumbled upon three naked people embroiled in an orgy on the living room carpet? And what was the proper response when you found the man you were supposed to marry in nine months in the midst of a diving-instructor sandwich? “Uh . . . I just . . . I’ll . . .” I stammered myself right out the door, sprinted down the street and flagged a taxi.
Hugh moved out the next day. We didn’t even discuss trying to work it out. I think we both knew that the mental image of him, Klaus, and Lindsey writhing naked on the floor would cause insurmountable problems.
With a heavy sigh, I picked up the phone and dialed the next number on the list.
“Hello, Cousin Sarah? This is Kerry Spence calling from Seattle. . . . Ummm, yes . . . it’s about my wedding. . . .”
Chapter 25
I close the lilac journal and tuck it under a sofa cushion. For some inexplicable reason, I feel on the verge of tears. It certainly isn’t because I miss Hugh or wish things had worked out between us. It’s just that . . . well, I remember how trusting I was, how innocent and naÏve before I stumbled upon that diving instructor–doctor sandwich. It really changed me forever.
It is ironic that I would choose this moment to write about the demise of my last engagement. I have been engaged for all of seventeen hours; my fiancé is mere feet away showering off the remnants of our sweaty night of passion. Perhaps ironic is not the right word for this timing; disturbing would be more appropriate.
More disturbing is the fact that I can’t get Nick’s face, the way it looked as he stood in the doorway of my mom’s condo, out of my mind. It’s irrational, I know. I mean, I barely knew him. We weren’t even dating. But the thought that I will never know what could have happened between us makes me feel inexplicably morose. And the thought that I may have hurt and disappointed such a wonderful and kind man, makes me even . . . well . . . moroser, for lack of a better word.
The intercom rings and I shuffle in my slippers and housecoat to answer it.
“Hellooo, bride-to-be,” she singsongs.
Great. My mom’s here.
Within seconds she is at the door, laden with a bag of muffins and a heavy stack of bridal magazines.
“Were you up?” she asks, breezing inside.
“Yeah,” I say. “I was just going to make coffee. Do you want some?”
“Oh! No caffeine for me! You may as well drink rat poison! I’ve found that starting the day with a good bowl of miso soup is more energizing and doesn’t have all the harmful effects of coffee.” She pauses for a moment. “Where’s Sam?”
“In the shower.”
“Well, why don’t you run and freshen up a bit?” she whispers. “You don’t want your new fiancé to see you looking so . . . well . . . I don’t know—haggard?”
“Sam knows what I look like in the morning,” I snap. “We used to live together, remember? And I’m really tired this morning, okay?”
“Oh, I don’t doubt that!” My mom does the “nudge, nudge, wink, wink, say no more” action. Gross. I don’t know why my mom has recently decided that we are girlfriends and can now talk openly about our sex lives.
“Anyway,” she continues, seating herself in the living room. “I’ve brought some muffins for you and Sam and—” She pats the stack of glossy magazines. “—I’ve brought these so we can get planning!”
“We haven’t even picked a date, Mother. I think it’s a little soon to start making wedding plans.”<
br />
“It’s not too soon! Do you know how hard it is to get a church and a reception hall these days? You have to book a year in advance! Carol from my pottery class had booked eighteen months out for her daughter’s wedding. It’s much busier than when you were engaged to Hugh.”
Sam enters the room looking just showered fresh, dressed in khakis and a long-sleeved polo shirt. “Gwen!” he says, obviously delighted to see my mom.
“How’s my future son-in-law this fine morning?” She gets up so he can kiss her cheek. Jeez . . . maybe those two should just get married.
“I’m great,” Sam says, moving behind me and wrapping his arms around me. “I couldn’t be better.” He buries his face in my neck and kisses me. It feels nice and he smells really good, but something about this intimate gesture in front of my mother makes me queasy.
“I’ve brought some bridal magazines so we can start making plans,” my mom says. “Kerry thinks it’s too soon, but I happen to know she’s wrong.”
“Well,” Sam chuckles. “We haven’t even set a date yet.”
“If you want to get married anytime in the next year,” my mom continues, “you have to start planning now.”
“Well I’ll leave those decisions to my future wife,” Sam says, kissing me again.
“Do you have a calendar for next year?” my mom blathers on. “We can look at some possible weekends?”
“Honey,” I say to Sam. “Didn’t you mention that you had a lot of work to do?”
“On Sunday?” My mother’s voice is shrill.
“Well . . .,” Sam says hesitantly. “We’ve got some potential investors in from Hong Kong, and they want a site tour.”
“You should go,” I say, turning him toward the door. “Don’t worry about us.”
“Are you sure?” he says seriously. “I won’t go if you don’t want me to.”
The Journal of Mortifying Moments_A Novel Page 20
