Good Enough(52)

Holy shit!





“Worthless!”



July 1, 2002

IT’S BEEN THREE WEEKS since our talk in the car and I can see a difference. Marcie has changed her attitude towards me a little bit. Jameson and I have learned to ignore it and suck it up until we find our own place.

Yesterday my mother surprised me with news that my brother moved out in to a rental house with some friends and she bought me a brand new queen size mattress and box spring. So not only do I get a bigger bedroom but a brand new bed. She must really like Jameson because she has never condoned a guy sleeping over, let alone in a bed with me. Even when she was calling me a whore when I was fifteen years old. I think I’m in the Twilight Zone.

It’s a rainy Saturday, so today Jameson and I are going to take a trip to find some new sheets, pillowcases and a comforter for my new bed. We’re excited too, because it’s one less thing we have to buy for our new house when we finally find one. We also talked about picking up things for our future home when we see them on sale, like a coffee pot or a toaster. I think it’s pretty smart of us, actually.

Since our one-year dating anniversary is coming up, we decided that after going out for a nice dinner, we would make a gift-register for our wedding, as we’re having fun picking up items here and there for our future home. My mom’s friend and co-worker Jane suggested it, mentioning she would like to get us something for our house for Christmas. She’s been awesome. She’s been doing the same thing for us when she goes shopping except it’s for the things we don’t think about like toothpaste, peroxide, and laundry detergent.

Normally, I’m the impatient one in our relationship, but lately it’s been Jameson with buying a house. Marcie is grating on his nerves. We’ve been saving a lot of time by doing research of houses online.

I overheard Marcie on the phone talking to her sister about wanting to buy a house. I rolled my eyes and laughed to myself. She has never owned a home and has never once mentioned wanting to until we started talking about it. I am fine with it. I want her to find a house first so we can go in the opposite direction. If we get our house first, I am scared to death she will intentionally look in our neighborhood to be close to Jameson. I know it’s not nice to say but it’s the truth. If I’m moving over forty miles away from my family and my job for him and the company discount, I shouldn’t have to live a quarter of a mile away from his mom who refuses to cut the umbilical cord.





AFTER A LONG DAY OF SHOPPING, being in and out of the rain, driving back home to put the sheets and comforter on the new bed we are whooped. I’m excited for us to sleep in our new bed together.

It doesn’t take long for that excitement to end though. Jameson’s phone is ringing and I can tell by the expression on his face its Marcie. He takes a few steps away from me but I can hear him say “I told you I was spending the night at Hillary’s.”

What could possibly be the problem this time?

He lets out a frustrated growl, closes his phone shut and tosses it on my bed.

“She has a migraine and is out of cigarettes. She doesn’t want to drive to the store because the migraine has caused some blurry vision.”

“And that is your problem forty miles away how?” I say sarcastically. “What the hell Jameson? Why is she always trying to pull you away from here when you visit?”

“She’s not always pulling me away from here.”

“Last time you drove down here she called you to help her carry groceries because she didn’t want to make two trips to the car.” I remind him.

“Okay, how about this. You come back with me, spend the night and then next weekend Friday and Saturday night we stay here?” He suggests.

I ponder that for a moment wondering how I can convince myself to agree, if he can agree to make sure Marcie knows and doesn’t not call him a million times all weekend for bullshit reasons. I have to think fast.

“On one condition. You have to tell your mom we are going away or something like that so she is not blowing up your phone with ridiculous reasons to lure you back home ruining our infrequent time together.”

“Deal. Thank you for doing this.”

Even though I keep clothes and toiletries at Jameson’s I always put together a bag of some extras just in case. So while I’m doing that Jameson is filling my parents in on our change of plans and saying goodnight.

Our drive back is kind of quiet. I’m confident Jameson can tell I’m disappointed. The entire ride he has been holding my hand and grazing his thumb over my knuckles. It’s his unspoken way of apologizing and thanking me at the same time.