“She said she was going to visit my grandparents today. She won’t be back until close to dinner.” He tells me without even having to ask. “How about I make us some breakfast?” I smile widely and respond with “Pancakes please.”
While Jameson was whipping up the pancakes, I made us coffee. He opened up to me about the conversation he had with Marcie. He told me he called her out on everything that she has been saying and doing from small too big. She claimed that the hug and midnight was her being tipsy. I don’t buy it. I’m not sure he does either. The look on his face said it all. He rolled his eyes, his lips were tight and straight.
If I felt myself rage inside with anger at some of the bullshit he tells me she said I talked myself down, usually by gripping on to the kitchen counter, digging my nails in to my palms trying not to punch the wall, and counting to ten in my head. I didn’t want to lash out at him.
This was obviously a shit-storm brewing between myself and Marcie. A storm I never wanted. I wanted nothing more than a nice, caring and loving mother figure in my life. A mother who hugged and I said I love you or I’m proud of you. A mother who went clothes shopping with me. A mother who I could talk to about my feelings with. I didn’t get that with my mom. And I guess I won’t be getting it with Marcie either.
When I first met Marcie she was all of that. Once Jameson and I started getting more and more serious I was elated that I already felt a close bond with her, but it all seems to be backfiring on me now. Marcie claimed that every incident Jameson pointed out to her last night was a misinterpretation, and always tried to turn it around on him, me or both of us. She owned up to nothing, which is what he expected.
I feel like a sad puppy, stuck outside in the rain who won’t be let back in the house. I want back in the house, Jameson is in the house, but his mom won’t let him out to play.
“You don’t meet my standards.”
March 30, 2003
I COULDN’T SLEEP AT ALL LAST NIGHT. My brain wouldn’t shut off. I tossed and turned with an upset stomach making multiple trips to the bathroom for Pepto Bismol.
As I sit here, at this enormous corporate table with more chairs surrounding it than necessary; I find myself cracking my knuckles above my sweaty palms. Jameson looks underneath the table and squeezes my hand. I turn to look at him, he winks with a small smile. It immediately puts me at ease.
The doors swing open and in walk to two fast moving men in suits. They appear completely opposite from each other for two brothers. One is on the shorter side, balding, small wire framed glasses, thin, appears to be in his later forties. He seems scatter brained shuffling all of the paper work. The other is much taller, almost six foot, broad shoulders. He has to be pushing three hundred pounds. He’s really intimidating; he’s not saying anything, just sitting there staring at us.
“Alright folks, let’s close on a house shall we?” the little one speaks. Everyone in the room smiles and laughs a little. We all seemed to be holding our breaths for quite a while. Our nerves took over. Mine and Jameson’s for the purchase of our very first home and the couple seated across from us, the Motter’s, selling theirs to upsize for their growing family.
There was a lot less talking than I expected. It was mostly passing papers back and forth, signatures and brief explanations of what we were signing.
Two and a half hours later we all stood up, the Motter’s handed us our keys, told us trash and recycling pick up was on Thursday’s and they walked out. Jameson and I just stood there for a second, each of us holding a key in our hand. A key… a key to our new life together… a key to our future.
We drove back to Jameson’s apartment to get the cleaning supplies we had purchased over the weekend, and stopped at Subway for lunch on our way to our new home. We couldn’t sit still at the table inside. We were so anxious to get to our new home, even though it was to get dusty and dirty for hours.
We couldn’t stop smiling; the pure joy was overwhelming to us. We finally had our own place, our own home. No more getting woken up at the butt-crack of dawn hearing my dad mowing the lawn at 6:00 a.m. No more Marcie doing anything to be a pain in our ass.
While we were in Jameson’s room gathering our cleaning supplies and making piles I noticed a shit-eating grin on Jameson’s face. I stopped what I was doing and just watched him. After about a half of a second he could feel my eyes burning in to him. He dropped the box he had in his arms to the floor, took five large steps towards me, grabbed each side of my face with his manly-callused hands and kissed me. It wasn’t just any kiss, it was a kiss that spoke a million words without saying one. It was one of those kisses that you always hear about but wonder if or when it will ever happen to you. The kiss that feels like it has stolen your breath. The kiss that has so much passion and emotion behind it you wonder how you will recover from it. I didn’t want to recover. I wanted to rip his fucking clothes off, show him the passion and emotion behind my vagina with his cock.