Lily White Lies(42)

Gram was obviously preoccupied but did no more than skirt around it. I sensed that she didn’t want to go into detail and I didn’t ask. I was grasping for something to talk about that she could focus on, when my cell phone began to ring. Thankful for the interruption, I answered.

“Hello.”

“Hey babe. I’ve got a surprise for you.”

I cringed at the thought of Brian giving me another gift in light of my upcoming news.

“Really... wow... that’s great.” Glancing at Gram to find her listening intently, I asked, “I’m visiting with Gram now, can I call you later?”

“I can do better than that. We wrapped up early so I’ll be coming home tonight.”

Avoiding Gram’s curious stare, I turned my back to her and almost whispered, “Hey, that’s terrific... I guess I’ll see you then.”

I watched her eyebrows rise as I put the phone in my purse. Without hearing a single word, I knew what she was going to ask.

“No, I haven’t.” I stammered.

“Did I say anything?” As she poured her soda into the sink, she continued. “I’ve been wondering exactly when you plan on telling your fellow that you don’t want to marry him, but it’s none of my business. Who am I to tell you how you should do things...”

“Gram, I appreciate your concern but this time, well, it’s complicated.”

As Gram replaced the soda with an equal amount of vodka, she said, “Life is as complicated as we make it, dear.” She took a drink, holding it in her mouth for several seconds before swallowing. “You’re very much like your grandfather, you know. He’d rather answer maybe to every question rather than get one wrong. Meg, you can’t always drive the middle of the road.”

Gram had always spoken in riddles and on occasions like this, I found myself doing the same thing.

“I’m not looking to drive the middle of the road but I don’t want to make a wrong turn either.”

“A wrong turn can lead you to someplace wonderful.”

“Or to the gates of hell.” I lowered my head, embarrassed that Brian’s call had affected my mood.

Gram smiled sympathetically, which made me feel worse. “Child, look at what he’s doing to you. If you can fix it, fix it. And if you can’t fix it...” she threw a hand in the air, “...hell then, throw it away, it ain’t worth having.”

After several minutes of drawing invisible circles with my index finger, I said, “You’re right... I know you’re right. Gram, I know I have to tell him but I think it’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do.”

“Child, I hate to tell you this,” She tipped back the remainder of vodka in her glass. “But it only gets harder.”





Twelve





...He whispered ‘I’m sorry’ into my ear before he began to weep into my hair. We sat for several minutes and tearfully shared the closest moments we would ever share again...





It was well past the stroke of midnight when Brian arrived home. I lay rigid in bed, pretending to be asleep and praying he wouldn’t try to wake me. He hummed loudly while he undressed, letting his clothes fall haphazardly to the floor. I monitored my breathing and bit down on the inside of my cheek, all the while keeping my eyes closed tightly. My heart hammered out of rhythm when his warm breath settled into my hair.

“You awake?”

My heart began to race but I silently counted seconds between each breath, hoping he gave up before he noticed my forced breathing. I could paint from memory the image of Brian anxiously waiting for me to offer as much as a encouraging flinch to his invitation. When he didn’t get the anticipated response, he fell into the bed, jerking the blanket to cover himself and I continued to lie quietly until I drifted off, uncovered and undisturbed.



~ ~ ~



I opened the bathroom door to find Brian filling the space in its frame.

Startled, I said, “Oh... I didn’t know you were up.” When he made no motion to move, I squeezed past him. “What time did you get in?”

Although faced away from him, I could feel his eyes boring a hole into my back.

“You didn’t hear me?” In a more accusing tone, he added, “It’s been close to a week Meg, I thought you’d... well, you know. I thought you’d be eager to see me.”

He would have no way of knowing how nauseating I found his last remark or how hard it was to keep my tone from faltering. A part of me wanted to run from the room, hoping he figured it out for himself and another part of me wanted to blurt out what I had to say—and then run from the room.

“You didn’t say exactly what time you’d be in. It was a long day and I got tired. I’m sorry.”