“Annabel, you can’t be serious. You know how important tonight is for me. How can you do this to me? Come to dinner, you can have your little temper tantrum later tonight.”
I didn’t reply. I simply hung up the phone.
I was halfway through dialing Triple A for assistance when there was a knock on my half opened window. I looked up and saw an incredibly handsome man outside my car. He was tall, definitely at least six-feet, with slightly overgrown jet-black hair and the bluest eyes I had ever seen.
“Are you okay?” He asked sounding concerned. “Do you need any help?” He pointed, “I was stuck at the red light on the other side of the street. I saw what happened.” He clarified.
“Um, I'm okay,” I answered. “I was just calling roadside assistance. The bucket is stuck,” I explained.
“Did you try to get it out?”
“Yeah,” I answered. “I can’t budge it. Which is why I am calling for help.”
“Let me try.” He said as he proceeded to walk to the front of my parked car.
“No. Don’t be silly,” I answered, as I opened my door and got out.
“You will be here hours waiting for them. I’m here now. Come on. Let’s see what we can do.”
He squatted down and looked underneath the hood of my car. “You did a good job, here,” he joked. He took off his suit jacket and placed it on the hood of my car. He bent back down and started to reach for the bucket. I stopped him.
“You are all dressed. You don't have to do this. You’ll get dirty.”
“Big deal. There is this great invention called laundry,” he joked as he started to tug at the bucket. His tone turned serious. “Wow, you weren’t kidding. This bucket is really stuck. But don’t worry; I think we can get it out. You up to helping?”
“Sure,” I answered as I squatted down next to him.
“Cool! I will grab the right. You grab the left and on the count of three we pull with all of our might. One. Two. Three…”
It was hard to focus on pulling while being this close to him, but I managed to concentrate and together we freed the bucket.
“Oh my God! Thank you so much,” I gushed. “I don’t know how to thank you.”
“I do,” he smirked. “Come out to dinner with me?”
So I did, and I had the best time.
I’d like to say I never spoke to, or saw, Mitch again, but that would be a lie. He called me early the next morning. I wanted to let the call go to voicemail, but instead I answered it. He apologized profusely, he sounded so sincere. I think he realized how upset he made me and was rightly afraid he’d lose me. I agreed to have dinner with him that night. He acted like the Mitch I first started dating, the one who I had fallen in love with.
I found it difficult to stop seeing him. After all, Mitch had so many good qualities. He was funny, smart, and incredibly charming. When he wanted to, he knew how to make me incredibly happy. Unfortunately more times than not, he was inconsistent in his affection and often times his actions didn’t feel sincere. Eventually I began to realize he didn’t really love me, he loved the idea of me—a pretty girl on his arm to help him impress others while he fulfilled his own needs. In a lot of ways, I now understand Mitch reminded me of my father.
As I sorted out my feelings for Mitch I also spent time with Cole. I think hanging out with both men gave me a clearer perspective. I slowly realized when I was with Mitch I walked on eggshells. I was always concerned about his moods and reactions. I constantly tried to be the perfect girlfriend. With Cole, however, it was completely the opposite. I always felt like I could just be myself. I didn’t worry about how I looked or what I said. I was so comfortable around him, and I felt like I could tell him anything. Our relationship was easygoing and fun. He made me realize I wanted comfort and compassion out of life, not turmoil and drama.
Looking back I really wish I'd made a clean break with Mitch the first night I met Cole. I’m sure I would have been much happier if I was one hundred percent open to starting a new relationship with Cole. But I was scared to give up what I had known for so long for the unknown.
CHAPTER 7
“I’LL GET IT!” VIOLET YELLED as she raced to the front door. Since I wasn’t expecting anyone I trailed behind her. My mother was waiting on the other side of the door.
“Oh, you again,” Violet said with her hand on her hip and head cocked to the side. “You’re coming around a lot lately. Are you planning on moving in or something?”
“You sure got your mother’s mouth, don’t you, darling,” Beatrice replied.
“Yep! I do! I call ‘em how I see ‘em,” Violet answered, unfazed.
“What are you doing home anyway? Shouldn’t you be in school?” Beatrice asked sounding annoyed more than concerned.
“Strep!” Violet yelled before she ran back into the den to resume playing with Harley, who was also under the weather.
“Is she contagious Annabel? I can’t be getting sick you know. There is too much to do with the wedding right around the corner.”
“You’ll be fine Mother. It’s not like you were planning on kissing or playing with her. Besides, she’s on antibiotics.”
“If you say so, I guess I’ll have to trust you.” She removed her coat and handed it to me. “But if I get sick, you will be to blame.”
What grandmother acted like this, I wondered. Connie had always been the complete opposite. I remembered the first time Violet got sick. She was six months old and had a fever of one hundred and three. I didn’t know what to do. Connie was the first person I called. She went to the pediatrician with me and then even slept over just in case we needed anything. She never worried about herself. She just wanted to help nurse her grandbabies back to health.
“If you’re not comfortable being here Mother, there is no reason to stay. We can talk on the phone.”
“No, no. I’ll be okay, I’m sure. I have hand sanitizer somewhere in this purse.”
“Oh, good,” I answered as I tried to keep my sarcasm under control. “What are you doing here, anyway?” I asked as I pulled my hair into a ponytail. “I wasn’t expecting you. I’m working from home today.”
“I know. Which is precisely why I came by. I figured since you were home you’d have time to go over the guest list.”
I bit my tongue as I followed her into my kitchen. It was pointless trying to explain to her work is work regardless of where I’m performing it. She was never going to understand, because she didn’t want to. “Do you want some coffee?”
“Only if it’s fresh.”
I filled two cups and joined her at the kitchen table where she already had a stack of papers sitting.
I took a sip of my coffee and picked up the papers. “There are a lot of names here,” I remarked. “How big is this shindig going to be?”
“I am trying to keep it under three hundred and fifty but that’s easier said than done. Between Walter and myself there are just so many people we have to include,” she answered before taking a sip of coffee. As soon as she swallowed her face puckered up as if I gave her poison. “I thought you said this was fresh, Annabel.” She dramatically moved her cup to the side.
“It is. I made it only about an hour ago. And besides, I like it,” I answered as I took another sip. “Do you want me to make you something else? Maybe a cup of tea?”
“No. I’m fine. Let’s just get down to business so you can continue about your day.” She handed the handwritten pages over to me, “Here’s my preliminary list. Walter has his own, of course. I didn’t bring that one. You won’t know anyone on it, I’m sure. But I did want to check if you or Cole wanted to include anyone I missed. After all, your mother doesn’t get married everyday!” She beamed.
I scanned the names. On the bottom of the very last page, and written in a different color ink, clearly indicating an after-thought, were Cole’s parents and sister’s names.
“Figures,” I muttered.
“Did you say something, Annabel?” She asked as her ste
el gray eyes peered into mine.
“No. I’m glad to see you managed to include the O’Conner’s.”
“Of course I did,” Beatrice smiled. “I knew you wouldn’t want it any other way.”
“Is it safe to assume my kids are invited or would you prefer I find a random babysitter?” I asked.
“Annabel, really. Was that comment necessary?”
I didn’t reply. I knew my tone indicated my frustration, but really, was it such a far out question given how close my mother was to my children?
“Of course they're invited,” she answered, not missing a beat. “I want them to be my ring bearer and flower girl. They are my grandchildren after all. But it probably would be a good idea for you to arrange to have a babysitter come along too. You do want to make sure they stay occupied and out of trouble.” She reached for the undrinkable cup of coffee and took a sip. “Why do you always think the worst of me? Seriously, Annabel, it would be nice if just one time you could cut me a little slack.”
“Slack Mother? Really? You’ve got to be kidding. What do you think I have been doing all these years?” I blurted out; instead of swallowing the words they came spilling out of my mouth. Speaking my mind was addictive. The more I did it the more I wanted to let out everything that has been troubling me for so long.
“If that’s what you want to tell yourself, fine. But you know what? You can lie to others but you can’t lie to yourself. I’m not afraid to admit it; I know I made a lot of mistakes. I know I handled a lot of situations extremely poorly,” she said, as she made sure her caramel chignon was in place.
“You can say that again,” I mumbled, a little louder than I planned to.
“Yes, I know I did. And I’m not the only one. You have been far from perfect yourself.” She said pointedly.
“What do you mean?” I asked, confused.
“Let’s take your little destination wedding for instance, shall we?”
“What about it?” I asked, not sure where she was going.
“I could understand given everything that had happened why you wanted to dash off to St. Kitts rather than have a proper wedding and reception. I could also understand why you wished to marry Cole alone and keep the ceremony intimate.”
I swallowed hard but didn’t say anything.
“I would even be able to accept it, but that wasn’t what happened, now was it?” Beatrice snarled.
I took a deep breath, but remained quiet.
She didn’t take her eyes off me, “I asked you a question, Annabel. I deserve an answer.”
“What are you getting at, Mother?” I asked as I pushed my cup of coffee away. I no longer had any interest in drinking it.
“You know damn well what I am getting at. And you still haven’t answered my question.”
My mind reeled. Could my mother have possibly known what really happened on the island? When I had told Connie my plan she tried to make me change my mind. She begged me to reconsider, in fact. But I was too stubborn. I didn't want to heed her advice. She warned me I was playing with fire and I couldn't keep the secret forever. I didn't want to believe her. Who was I trying to fool? I think at the time I truly hoped my mother would learn the truth. Part of me wanted to hurt her just as much as she had hurt me. But now I am no longer dealing in hypotheticals and I felt sick to my stomach. I had secretly felt guilty about this decision for years. For so many reasons, guilt has been my constant companion.
I removed the rubber band that was securing my hair in place and nervously ran both my hands through my hair, scratching my scalp hard in the process. “I don’t know what to say,” I replied softly. “You clearly already know the answer.”
“Yes, I do. And you want to know how I know? I know because I was there.”
Shocked I whispered, “What?” I got up and looked out my kitchen window, and stared at my backyard without seeing anything.
“Get back here and sit down.” She ordered. I did as I was told.
“You heard me correctly. I… Was… There…” she answered slowly. “I wanted to respect your wishes, but I also wanted to see you on your wedding day, even if from afar. So, a couple of weeks before you were scheduled to dash off, I called the hotel you were staying at. I spoke to the wedding planner, what a delightful woman. Flora was her name, wasn’t it?”
I nodded.
“Well, I told her I wanted to have flowers and nice bottle of champagne delivered to your room an hour before the ceremony so I needed to know the time, date, and location. She was extremely cooperative. I arrived on the island the day of the wedding. I made sure to spend most of the day in my room, tucked away. But when the service started I was on the shoreline. I looked like any other vacationer, just enjoying the sunset with a frozen drink in my hand. But under my oversized hat and sunglasses tears were falling from my eyes. I watched you and Cole exchange your rings and share your first kiss as husband and wife. I stayed on the beach just long enough to see you embrace Connie right afterwards. You were holding onto her so tightly with such affection. It was like a knife to my heart.” Beatrice wiped her eye with the back of her hand.
I opened my mouth to speak but Beatrice held out her hand, pointing a long French manicured fingernail at me urging me to stop.
“Don’t speak. Listen.” She commanded.
I nodded slowly and closed my mouth.
“I am not surprised Connie and Patrick attended the ceremony.”
“You’re not?” I asked.
“Hffmpp,” she scoffed. “Not at all. I know how close you and she are. I saw it the night I went to their house for Cole’s birthday. You were practically joined to her hip. The two of you were exchanging glances across the table as if you were communicating a secret language. I knew she had become the one you confided in. And it hurt me. Badly. Why do you think I couldn’t wait to leave their house the night of Cole’s birthday dinner?”
“I thought you didn’t want to be with me,” I answered quietly.
Beatrice took another sip of her coffee. “You weren’t completely wrong. I didn’t really want to be with you. It was too soon and I wasn’t ready. But I also didn’t want to not be with you. I’m not sure if this makes any sense.”
“It really doesn’t.” I answered honestly.
“I don’t expect you to understand. Maybe another day, let’s get back to the wedding, shall we? Connie and Patrick being there made sense to me. I wasn’t mad about it. I wasn't even surprised Cole’s sisters were there. But when you brought along,” my mother paused and made the finger quote gesture with her hands, “that friend of yours, I was very hurt.”
“What was wrong with Michelle being there?” I asked. I then used all the force I could muster to hold back a tear, which was threatening to escape as I continued, “Brody couldn’t be there. I wanted... No, I needed someone who loved me at my side. I didn’t want to be alone as I started my new life with Cole. Michelle was like my sister. She was my best friend!”
Michelle and I met in college our sophomore year and became instantly inseparable.
“Friend? Is that what she was?” Beatrice spat.
“Yes,” I said a little too loudly. “You never liked her, did you? Every time I brought her home with me you gave her the cold shoulder. You never made her feel welcome.”
“I know. It was intentional.” My mother admitted. She picked up her cup again, but placed it back on the table without taking a sip. “I saw right through her act. She was a user. She never cared about you. Not one bit!”
“What are you talking about mother?” I was outraged. Why was she saying these horrible things?
“Annabel, for a smart girl you have always been so naive. Don’t you think it was odd how she latched onto you so quickly as soon as you two met? How everything you liked she liked too. She wanted what you had and the only way to get it was to be at your side, constantly, especially when it came to men. She slept with all of your boyfriends, you know.”
For about the hundredth time this morning I sai
d the only word that seemed to be able to come out of my mouth. “What?”
“You heard me. She had quite the appetite! Thomas, Daniel, Mitch. All of them.”
“I didn’t even sleep with Thomas,” I said. “How do you even know this? Did she tell you?”
“Of course not. I know her type, unfortunately all too well. I can spot someone like her a million miles away.”
Dumfounded as realization of what she said slowly hit me, I asked, “Did you cheat on Daddy?”
“Jesus, Annabel. You’re not really asking me that question, now are you? I guess it shouldn’t surprise me. You always think the worst of me. Believe what you want, you always do. Here keep the guest list.” She thrust the pieces of paper at me. “I have a photocopy of it at home. You may find your answers on these pages,” she explained.
With that Harley came charging into the kitchen and ran right up to my mother. He had one hand behind his back. “Hi Grandma! Violet said you were here! I made you present!”
“Oh, how sweet. Thanks.” Beatrice replied barely making eye contact with him.
“It’s a neck-a-wace. See?” He held it up to her face and practically smacked her in the nose with it.
“Oh yes. It’s very pretty. You are very crafty,” she said dismissively.
“I’m not crafty!” He said proudly. “I’m just a boy who made a neck-a-wace with beads and a pattern. I’ll put it on you!”
“No, no. It’s okay. I’ll put it on later,” my mother replied, appalled.
Harley paid her no mind. He dragged another kitchen chair closer, stood on it and placed it over her head. My mother grimaced. Then he sneezed.
“Are you sick too?” My mother squealed and jumped back.
“No. I’m perfect except my smell is broken,” Harley replied and I laughed. My mother however wasn’t amused.
She reached into her bag and removed her bottle of hand sanitizer, which she generously applied to her palm. “Annabel, I have to go. Be at my house Sunday at eleven o’clock. We need to go to the florist, and then maybe we'll do lunch.”
Plan Bea Page 6
