Relatively normal, p.18
Relatively Normal, page 18
“I see. And now you’re going to cancel your interview because I don’t live there anymore.”
He nods. “Exactly.”
“What if I move to Alaska?”
He laughs, “You want to be a party planner in Alaska?”
“Maybe.”
“Well, then I’d just have to find out if any hospitals in Alaska are hiring.”
“I have a red afghan. Is that a deal breaker?”
Sam looks at me like I’m off my nut. “Nooooooooo. Why would it be?”
“Just checking.” Then I stand up. “In that case, why don’t you take me out tomorrow night? Maybe we can do a little Christmas shopping for our families together.”
“You’ve got yourself a date, Kitty Cat.”
When we walk to the front door, he takes my hand and brings it to his lips before giving it the most delicious kiss. Then he says, “I’ll be at the nursing home at ten in the morning in case you can’t wait until tomorrow night to see me.”
He walks into the darkness like he was never here, and it was all just a sweet dream. I’m going to have to watch my heart with this one. I know what it’s like to lose it to him, and I do not want to have to recover from that again.
Painful Afghans
Sarah is back from Florida where she was taking a pre-holiday break from EatMeOrganic. Her parents have a timeshare. She’s not staying with them for Christmas, though. Oddly, her B&B is full during the holidays. Her first guest arrives the night of our party, so I tell her to bring him along. The more the merrier, right?
As soon as I fire off my last text to her, my phone rings. It’s Ethan. My stomach does a somersault and perhaps a double full layout or two (Gymnastics is my favorite Olympic event, if you couldn’t guess.) Why in the world is he calling? I guess there’s only one way to know the answer to that question.
“Hello?” I cautiously answer.
“Catriona, how are you?” His voice is tentative.
“I’m fine, Ethan. Why are you calling?” I discard the customary, how are you, normally asked in return. I’m still smarting at the way he so easily dismissed our life together.
“I miss you.”
I sincerely wonder, “Why? I mean the second you’re alone in our apartment, you apparently hide everything that reminds you of me. That doesn’t seem like the actions of a man who would miss me.”
His slow reply takes me off guard by how sincere it sounds. “Because I love you.”
I sigh tremendously in return. “You could have fooled me. The minute I challenged you, you threw a pillow at me and told me to find somewhere else to live. Call me crazy, but those don’t sound like the actions of a man in love.”
“I’d just come from my parents’ home where I’d spent three days listening to my mother tell me she was doubting her life with my dad,” he explains. “Which meant she was doubting her life with me. I’ve never felt so vulnerable. I guess I just panicked and thought if you were having doubts before the wedding, it was better for you to leave sooner rather than later.”
“You didn’t even fight for me, Ethan. We’d been together for two years, living together for one. If you love someone for that much time, you don’t just let them walk away.” I clarify, “You don’t push them out of your life.”
“That’s why I’m calling now,” he says, his voice full on anguish. “I’m fighting for you, now.”
“I’ve already shipped all of my things to my parents’ house,” I inform him.
“You’ve left New York? Why would you do that? Your whole life is here!”
I explain it to him the best I can. “When Nan got sick, I started to realize her time is winding down. She could have died. That hit me really hard.”
“Then visit her more often. But to leave the city you love and the business you’ve worked so hard to build? It seems extreme.”
It does seem extreme, and when he says it, the gravity of what I’ve done really hits home. My stomach rolls over like I’m on Space Mountain at Disneyland. So, I change the subject. “I wanted you to love my family as much as I do, Ethan. At the very least, I wanted you to like them.”
“You wanted me to like them? How was I to know that? You never talked about them like you liked them. You always spoke of them as though they were an annoyance and an embarrassment. You were always so relieved to come home after visiting them.” He seems genuinely confused.
Wow. I’m stunned silent, which is a rare event. What he says makes a lot of sense. How could I expect him to try to win my parents over when I was sending signals that indicated I didn’t want that. I reply, “I don’t know, Ethan. I really don’t. But my leaving was only partially because of them. There were other reasons.”
“Like what?” he wants to know.
“Like your hiding all my things when I was gone. How about that?”
He starts to talk three times before he gains traction. “Catriona, I have some problems of my own. Things I struggle with.”
This is the first time I’ve ever heard him talk so openly. “What things?” I want to hear him say them out loud.
“I battle with my need for order. I have an intolerance for bright colors, and I fight to keep the noise of the world from overtaking my head. All of these things are physically painful for me. I’m at war with them on a daily basis.”
His self-awareness is startling. When we were together, I was never consciously aware of those things, so I never actually put them into words, but what he says explains a lot. I thought those were all just quirks of his, that he was completely fine with who he was. I didn’t realize they were things he battled within himself. “Why didn’t you ever talk to me about it?”
“I was always such an outsider as a kid. No one ever understood me. I figured if I was able to keep these things hidden, I could pass for normal. If I could do that, then it wouldn’t hurt so much knowing I wasn’t like everyone else.”
My heart breaks for him. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful to have to hide who you really are to protect yourself. Is there anything that can be done to help you? To help you tolerate the things that bother you?”
“I don’t know. I’m going to see a psychiatrist tomorrow to find out.” He confesses, “I also struggle with touch sometimes. It’s why I don’t like to hold hands and sometimes making love is difficult because of this, as well.”
My world crashes in on me. “Ethan, I can’t believe you never told me this.”
“How could I tell you, when I couldn’t even accept it myself?”
“But why now? You’re almost thirty-five years old. Why are you finally addressing these things now?”
He exhales dejectedly, “Because the woman I love left me, and I’m miserable without her. I’m ready to do whatever it takes to win you back. I don’t want to live my life without you.”
Holy hell. I don’t know what to say. I’m silent for a full two minutes after his confession before managing, “So much of this is water under the bridge. I’m not sure I can see us as a couple again.”
“You can’t see it now, but what if I fix myself? What if I get help and someone out there can make me better?” His voice shakes with so much emotion, I know he’s crying.
“Oh, Ethan. I don’t know. But whatever happens with us, you owe it to yourself to get help for you. You need to be in a world that isn’t painful for you.”
He won’t hang up until I promise to talk to him again. And the truth is, I want to. I still love Ethan, although I’m still uncertain in what way. Even if I don’t go back to him, I truly am invested in what happens to him.
My happy holiday spirit is taking a temporary hiatus. I don’t currently feel like planning a party with my mom. I don’t feel like running off to visit Nan. I feel like crawling back into bed and going to sleep for a week.
Life. What a journey.
Mad Money
I spend the majority of the day in my pajamas. Even after getting out of the shower, I opt for a fresh pair instead of clothes. Pajamas are comforting, like a big hug. They’re underrated, and I think, as a society, we would be better off if we wore them more often. Maybe “Casual Friday” could be turned into “Pajama Friday.”
I finally put on real clothes at five o’clock, but only because Sam is picking me up in twenty minutes to go Christmas shopping. We’re driving to Champaign to the Market Place Shopping Center. If we’re there by six, we’ll have a full four hours to hit the mall before the stores close.
I keep thinking about Ethan and our conversation. To me, it sounds like he’s suffering from some kind of autism, and while it’s not Rain Man serious—and boy do I feel sorry for calling him that now—it’s still a real problem in his life. I fell for him because he’s sweet and kind and always made me feel safe. I’m very much second-guessing leaving him. Not that I can really see myself going back, it’s just . . . heck, I don’t know. It’s just all so confusing.
When Sam picks me up, he can tell I’m out of it and asks, “You doing okay, Cat? Something on your mind?”
Something is definitely on my mind, but Sam is not the right person to share it with. We agreed not to discuss the past and to take things from today onward. It’s a good pact. My history with Ethan is mine. Sam has no ownership of it. Plus, he could never give me unbiased advice. So, I answer, “I’m good. Just planning my parents’ Christmas party in my head.”
He smiles like he accepts my answer but isn’t buying it. “So, where do you want to go first?”
“Let’s park in the Bergners parking lot and go in that way.” This mall was considered big-city shopping when I was a kid growing up in Gelson. I laugh at the thought now, as I’ve grown accustomed to real big-city shopping. But there’s a comfort coming back here. The little kid inside me is jumping for joy that the grown up me has come back with real money to spend. Note, the definition of real money for high-school Cat was anything over thirty dollars.
We decide to shop for Nan together before splitting up to take care of our families. I pick up beautiful silk pajamas and a robe. “I bet she’d love lounging in something so decadent while she recovers.”
Sam agrees. He says, “I already know what I’m getting her. She’s been complaining about cold feet, so I’m going to buy her some warm socks. Oh, and a bottle of perfume I read about. Its primary fragrance is heather, to remind her of the Highlands.”
“That’s really thoughtful of you. I’m sure she’ll love them both.”
Once we’ve finished with Nan, we go our separate ways, promising to meet at the Red Robin at seven for sustenance to fuel our spree. In the housewares section, I buy my mom a shortbread pan in the shape of bunches of wheat. It’s a pretty standard one, but when I checked her collection earlier today, I didn’t see one like it. I also buy her a citrus zester, a cherry pitter, and meat-shredding claws. God knows if she’ll ever use them, but she’ll love owning them.
I buy my dad club head covers for his golf clubs that say, “Kiss My Putt” and shot glasses that say “Sláinte,” which is Gaelic for health. I have no idea what to get for my brother because I don’t where he is or if we’re even going to see him at Christmas. Also, because I don’t know who he is any more, if he’s not still a stoner. Once upon a time a bag of Doritos would have been a perfectly acceptable gift for him.
I head off to the restaurant, pleased by how much shopping I’ve done so far. I still need to get something for Jazz and Dylan. I’m thinking a gift card and a little something indulgent for the mother-to-be. I also want to get something for Sarah, and maybe even Sam. Nothing too big for him, just something that says I’m glad we’ve called a truce and are back in each other’s lives.
Then I wonder if I should get something for Ethan. My gut says no, but my heart says, why not get him something generic that won’t get his hopes up? I ask myself, like what, a blender? A toaster? What says, I’m glad we’re talking, without saying, let’s get back together?
The Gift
Once we’re seated, Sam asks, “Remember when we used to come to this mall and our first stop always had to be Fannie May, so you could buy peppermint bark to eat while we walked around?”
I reflect in genuine delight as I begin to salivate. “And you used to get a soft pretzel and root beer?”
I think fondly of young Cat and Sam, so crazy in love with each other and full of dreams for their futures. “Did your life turn out the way you expected it to?”
Sam looks reflective. “Yes and no. I guess there’s no way it could have turned out like I thought it would and still have included all the surprises along the way.”
He doesn’t need to explain what he means. I totally get it. I take a sip of water to push down the lump forming in my throat. I finally manage, “Life would be boring without the surprises.” And I mean it. Even if we’d gone off to college together, and gotten married and had kids in our twenties, we still might not have stayed together. Maybe we needed to have our own adventures and then find our way back to each other if we were meant to be.
Then there’s Ethan. He’s a good man, even though he’s dull. His need for order is probably the only way for him control his life and consequently his ability to live like a semi-normal human being. The question is, now that I know about his problems, does it alter my feelings for him. I love Ethan, but am in love with him?
I realize I’m totally lost in my thoughts and not a very good dinner companion, when Sam gets out of his side of the booth and scooches in next to me. He takes my hand under the table and whispers in my ear, “Stop thinking.”
I look up surprised. “Easier said than done.”
“I know. But sometimes you have to take a breath and live in the moment. The past is gone, the future is a question mark, all we can ever have possession of is what’s right here in front of us.”
I release a half-laugh. “The present really is a gift, huh?”
That’s when he turns to face me. He looks lovingly and longingly into my eyes before ever-so-slowly bringing his lips to mine. He gives me plenty of notice to realize what his intentions are, so I can stop him. But what’s about to happen is as inevitable as drawing breath.
Sam’s kiss is achingly tender and familiar. It’s home to me. It’s where I am right now at this very moment. It’s my gift in the present. After it ends, he pulls his food over to my side of the table. We sit next to each other in companionable silence and eat. Neither of us talks or even feels the need to. It’s enough that we’re together in this moment.
When the waitress comes to ask if we want anything else, we pass. We need to get back out into the mall if we’re going to finish our shopping tonight. I tell Sam, “I want to get you something, but I don’t want you to think it’s a declaration of any sort.”
“I guess you’re not buying me a diamond ring then,” he teases. “Darn it!”
I laugh, “Nope, not this year. How about a nice stethoscope or a pair of socks?”
He scrunches his face up. “Geez, granny, how about some underwear?”
“Too personal,” I retort.
He raises his eyebrows suggestively, “How about no underwear?”
I smack his arm to let him know not to go there. “How about a new toothbrush?”
He shakes his head. “With all these rules and regulations, what in the heck am I going to get for you?”
“As you know, I love peppermint bark.”
“But Fannie May isn’t in the mall anymore.”
“You might have to resort to ordering it online, Sam.”
“I could do that. Or, we could just stop and buy each other tattoos on the way home. I could get you Sylvester the Cat.”
“And I could buy you a great big Yosemite Sam.”
He playfully bumps into my shoulder. “It’s definitely something to think about.”
I’ll just add that to my list. There’s so much going on in my head right now, it feels like a war zone. I decide to put Sam’s gift on the back burner and concentrate on Jazz. Who knows? Maybe if I’m lucky enough, I’ll be in her shoes someday. I can’t help but wonder whose eyes my baby will have. Ethan’s cat green, or Sam’s sky blue?
Dust Bunnies and Ointment
You’d think my mother was about to give birth. She’s driving herself and everyone around her crazy getting the house prepared. Except she’s not readying it for a new life, she’s busy getting it sorted for her Christmas party. We’ve decided on December 14th for the date. The thought being, it’s early enough not to interfere with office parties and other already established holiday traditions, like getting out of Dodge to warmer environs.
I wake up early when I hear an annoying sound pulsing in the distance. I look at the clock to see it’s only five forty-five. It’s still dark outside, so it’s probably not a snowblower. What the heck is it? My bed is so snug and warm I don’t want to get out of it, but the noise is relentless. Finally, I throw the covers off with one quick movement and sit up.
I slip on my fuzzy socks with the rubber grips on the bottom, grab my robe, and creep cautiously down stairs. I find the source of the disturbance in the kitchen. My mom is standing in the middle of the room, with every drawer and cabinet wide open, holding a small cordless vacuum like she’s Wyatt Earp in the middle of a gun battle.
“What are you doing?” I demand.
“Cleaning.”
“At five forty-five in the morning?”
“There’s a lot to do to get ready for this party, Cat.”
I point out, “But, Mom, the kitchen will get dirty loads of times before the party. Don’t you think you should start somewhere else? You know, like the basement?”
“Oh, I’m not cleaning the kitchen-kitchen.”
I briefly entertain the possibility that I’m still sleeping and that this is just some bizarre dream. “I see.” Which I don’t. “If you’re not cleaning the kitchen-kitchen, what are you doing in here?” I’m almost positive we’re standing in the kitchen. I’m not quite sure where the kitchen-kitchen is, though.
