Pushing thoughts of Rachel out of my head, I walk over to the pub. When I pull open the front door there's no one inside, so I head back to the kitchen. My heart is pounding in my throat and I have no idea if I'll be able to actually say the speech I had rehearsed:
Ian, I know you feel you don't deserve love, but you are wrong. You are a good man and I love you. I can imagine that sex could be hard for you, but I think we should work on it. I'm fully willing to see your shrink with you, and we can take it slowly. But we both deserve pleasure and I want to be with you.
I push into the kitchen and hear the clicking of a keyboard in the office. Taking a deep breath, I round the corner … and find Pappy, alone. My stomach drops.
"Gah, Kelli darlin," Pappy says with a start. "Scared the livin' daylights outta me. What are ye doin' here so early, lass?"
"I was looking for Ian," I say. "Have you seen him?"
"No, not since last night," he looks concerned. "He just left, not a word to anyone. Tracey said she saw the two of ye together back here. Can ye tell me what happened?"
I shake my head, heat rising in my cheeks. Looking down at the floor I say, "Let's just say we had another falling out."
"But ye're here," Pappy observes.
"Yes, I wasn't the one who got upset this time," I say, finally looking at him.
He nods his head in understanding. "Things got emotional, did they?"
I nod, and he nods some more too. There we are, nodding away at each other.
"I've texted him and he hasn't responded. I'm getting a little worried now," I admit.
Pappy gets up and walks over to me, pulling me into a hug. I'm taken off guard, but quickly yield to his warmth and affection. I lay my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, relishing in the comfort he's offering. Here's someone who knows what Ian has done and wholly supports my decision to be with him. Of course, he's extremely biased, but that's okay. We are both right about Ian, I know it.
"He'll be alright, darlin'. It may take him some time, but with a woman like ye waitin' on him, he'll find his way."
He didn't find it that day; Ian didn't come into work. He did send Pappy a terse text, telling him not to worry and to close early. Of course this was my last chance to see Ian for five days, so I'm bitterly disappointed.
But we made the best of it, me, Pappy, Hal and the crew. It was extremely slow, so Pappy let me tend; he even showed me a few Irish staples.
"I tell ye lass, ye'll never want for a job in Erin if ye can make these four drinks," Pappy says.
"Yeah, but she'll quickly lose her job if she makes them here," Jaye says. "They're horrible!"
"Tsk, tsk," Pappy says. "To each his own."
"One man's trash is another man's treasure," Wilson throws in. Pappy nods, pointing at him in agreement.
"One man's meat is another man's poison," Tom says.
"The grass is always greener," I say.
Abby laughs and shakes her head. "No, Kelli, that doesn't fit."
"Yes it does!" I insist.
"It doesn't," she says. "You must have scored crap on your SATs."
"Shut up!" I yell, flicking my dish towel at her.
By 7pm, there's no one left in the pub but us, so we decide to call it a night. Wishes for a Merry Christmas ring through the air, and we all scatter to our different home for the holidays.
******
Being with my mother and sisters is great. I had missed them sorely, and appreciate being around those who loved me.
As I expected, there are many questions about my life transition.
"How could you give up a job that pays so well?" Camille asks.
"Don't you miss your friends?" asks Natalie.
"What about your social life? Are you dating anyone? I can imagine how hard it would be to meet someone in a city like L.A.," says Camille. "Everyone's gorgeous. Aren't they?"
"Are you happy, honey? That's what I want to know," says my mom.
"Enough with the third degree, already!" I try to laugh to lighten the mood. I know they are worried about me, but I'm not in a place to rehash my decision. Especially since I'm questioning it myself. "I promise, while life in L.A. isn't perfect, it is going well. I love working at the pub and although it doesn't pay much, I'm not really going out so I don't need a lot of money."
"What about finding a job that means something to you? That gives back?" my mom pushes.
"I know; I'm getting a little side tracked, but I think that's okay. I am still looking for other work and I began volunteering with Habitat for Humanity and the Westside Special Olympics in Santa Monica, so that's something."
"And your social life?" Camille asks again.
"I'm not lonely, for friends or a boyfriend. I interact with people all day long at the pub and for the moment I'm content. I promise, I really am!" I try to convince them.
I've decided to avoid the subject of Ian. It gets so complicated so quickly that I don't want to open that Pandora's Box. Plus, I've been single so long that my family doesn't really question my not having a boyfriend. Hell, it would be more surprising if I did.
My resolve still strong, I send Ian a text every couple of hours.
Christmas, 9:12am (6:12am PDT): Merry Christmas Ian. I'm thinking about you.
Christmas, 1:43pm (10:43am PDT): Get any good presents? Say Hi to Pappy for me.
Christmas, 10:23pm (7:23pm PDT): Goodnight Ian. I hope you had a merry Christmas. I love you.
As the days go on, my patience begins to wear thin.
December 26, 10:01am (7:01am PDT): I'm thinking of you. Please let me know how you are doing.
December 26, 4:53pm (1:53pm PDT): Stop being an ass Ian. Text me so I know you are alive.
December 27, 6:30am (3:30am PDT): I hope this fucking text wakes you up. Be an ass, fine, but I still love you.
December 27, 12:55pm (9:55am PDT): I love you! I love you! I love you! What do you think about that?
December 27, 8:22pm (5:22pm PDT): You aren't succeeding in pushing me away, assuming that's what you are trying to do. You are only succeeding in pissing me off!
December 28, 12:45am (9:45pm PDT): Mark my words, when I get home I'm going to hunt you down and force you to talk to me. You know that, right?
December 28, 11:33am (8:33am): If you'd respond I'd stop acting like a lunatic and leave you alone. Text me! Just say "Hi." That's it.
At this point I decide to cease and desist. You can't force a conversation from 3,000 miles away, and he clearly isn't ready to speak to me. I don't plan to let him get away with this bullshit, however, so I turn to Plan B.
To: [email protected]
Subject: Ian's address
Hi Pappy,
Merry Christmas! I hope you all had a nice holiday. Get anything good from Santa? I miss you and am looking forward to coming home tomorrow.
I need a favor Pappy. I need you to give me Ian's address. I've sent him like a thousand texts and he won't respond. Is he alright? I assume you've seen him by now.
I love him Pappy. I really do. And I'm pretty damn sure he loves me too. And maybe it is selfish of me, but I need to hear him say it. I need him to admit to me, and more importantly to himself, that he loves me. Is it wrong of me to push him like this Pappy?
He's determined to never have a romantic relationship because of what he did in Iraq. A part of me understands his thinking, maybe even agrees with it. But a part of me thinks it's total bunk and the easy way out.
I'm sick and tired of his emotional self-flagellation. He's repentant, I get it. He should be. But enough is enough. Cutting yourself off from love seems like an act of sacrifice, of repentance, but honestly, I don't think it is. I think it is taking the easy way out. Forgiving yourself, moving on while still remembering, that's hard. Does that make any sense? Probably not …
Nothing about this situation makes sense. I still marvel at how I'm in love with a man who … well, we both know what he did. When I stop and think about it, I have no idea how I can love him. But I do.
I really would like to see him when I get home and it would be my preference to do it somewhere other than the pub. I know he won't agree to meet me anywhere, so I'm thinking a surprise visit to his place is probably my best bet. If you agree, I'd appreciate you sending me his address.
Hugs and kisses,
Kelli
Pappy isn't as plugged into his email as those of my generation, but I've taught him to check it at least daily, so hopefully I'll have a response by tomorrow.
I spend my last day in Vermont on the slopes with my sisters. Camille and I don't really ski, but Natalie is good and helps us through some bunny slopes. My thighs begin screaming after about an hour because I'm too scared to do anything but snow plow my way down the hill. I'm able to last another hour before calling it quits and heading inside for the only reason I attempt skiing: sitting in front of the fire drinking hot chocolate with Peppermint Schnapps.