I woke up late today. After yesterday, I just got so tired. Bill still woke up at his alarm, and got up to drive into the city for work, which took 15 minutes.
Today, all I had on my list was to bake cookies to take to the neighbors and to organize all of my clothes in my closet. Seemed like a pretty simple day.
Around noon, the doorbell rang and I walked to the grand staircase to open it to a sweet-looking older woman.
“Hello dear, my name is Majorie, and I live in the house next to you. I live with my son, William, and my granddaughter, Augustine. William’s wife died in childbirth when having Augustine, so I moved in to help and never left,” she said.
I gave her a warm, welcoming smile. “Hi, I’m Rebekah, nice to meet you. My fiance, Bill, is at work at the moment, but he should be back for dinner if you want to come meet him then,” I told Marjorie.
I opened up the door and invited her in. “I was just making some chocolate chip cookies to take over to your house later,” I said.
Marjorie studied my house. “This is very nice, Rebekah, darling. My son is so disorganized. Augustine likes to leave her things everywhere. She’s seventeen, maybe it’s just part of how teenage girls are these days,” she said.
I smiled at a memory that popped into my head. “Seventeen was fun. I was a little bit of a mess when I was her age, it’s probably just a phase. Seventeen wasn’t too long ago, only nine years,” I said.
Marjorie smiled. “I knew you were on the younger side. I had my son when I was twenty-six, about a year after my wedding. When is your wedding?” she asked.
“Me and Bill are getting married this Saturday, behind our house on the beach. We had three guests cancel on us a few days ago, and we already paid for their stuff. You, your son, and Augustine are welcome to attend if you would like,” I said. I knew Bill would be fine about it. He doesn’t care who’s there, the decorations, any of it. He just wants to marry me.
Marjorie was silent for a minute, her face showing a perplexed expression, like she was thinking. “I should be able to be there, I don't know about William, though. Augustine might have her little boyfriend over, so I don’t know about her yet. I’ll tell them about your invitation, dear, thank you! I would love to attend. I love watching young people getting married, committing to each other and joining together for eternity. It reminds me of when me and my late husband got married,” she said.
The way Marjorie talked, she sounded like a philosopher. She sounded so smart and introspective about everything. And her voice was calm and toned; she sounded so calm and soothing. It was like I was in a trance.
The oven made a noise, signaling that the batch of cookies was done. I walked across the cream colored kitchen to the oven. As soon as I opened the oven door, a wave of a sweet, chocolaty scent swept around the room.
Marjorie inhaled deeply from the island where we had been sitting. “Dear, it smells amazing! I need your recipe, mine never smell this good,” she said.
I smiled at her. I transferred the cooking onto a cooling rack and got me and Marjorie a glass of cold water. I walked back to the white granite island and sat down beside her.
We talked for an hour or two, feeling as if no time went by. I told her about all the judging I go through marrying Bill, who is 18 years older than me. He’s been married before, but got divorced 10 years ago. Me and Bill started dating two years ago and got engaged four months ago.
Me and him get scrutinized out in public everywhere we go. That’s a big part of why we left St. Louis. They would say things like ‘how does a middle class girl and a rich divorcee make it?’ It’s not a question, we’re in love. His old wife wasn’t what he was looking for, I am, so who is anyone else to judge?
When Marjorie left, I sent her back with all of the cookies except two, one for me and one for Bill when he gets home.
A few more hours went by waiting for Bill to arrive; he was later than usual. I called our chef, he made me some sushi and extra for when Bill got home. I sat on the light gray couch while I ate and watched The Bachelor for two hours.
Around 7 p.m. I looked out the front window because I heard a car coming up the road. It wasn’t Bill. It was a smaller car, which pulled into Marjorie’s driveway.
A tall boy got out of the car and went up to the door and knocked. A girl with amber colored hair opened the door and jumped into his arms and they started making out on the front porch.
They made out for a few minutes, then she pulled back. She closed the door and he turned around and pinned her on the exterior of the house, a few steps to the side of the white door.
They didn’t start making out again, just standing there with his hands moving up and down her body. Then after a minute or two, she opened the door again and started to walk in, with the boy watching her walk, probably staring at her butt. She turned around and pulled him in the door, with the boy closing the door behind him. It must have been Augustine’s boyfriend.
I sat on the couch and watched another three episodes of The bachelor, anxiously waiting for Bill to get home. I always felt like such a burden and smothering when I texted him more than twice in a row without him answering. It always made me feel terrible.
Even though I already felt awful and guilty for bothering him, I decided to call him. It went straight to voicemail. I just hung up. I put my phone down next to me. It was 10 p.m., and I haven’t heard from him all day.
I started to get really insecure, maybe he was cheating on me. Maybe he was leaving me. I read an article online about a woman who figured out that her husband had a whole other identity, with a different wife and kids under a different name, all after he left her. Maybe that was going to happen to me.
I sat there, staring into nothingness with tears welling up in my eyes. So much water sat on the bottom of my eyelids that it burned.
This is how my life ends, I thought. My fiance leaves and never comes back, right before our wedding. Way to mess everything up, Rebekah.
That final thought broke me. I started bawling. Heavy streams of tears poured down my face and into my hands. All my insecurities built up so much, just waiting for me to break.
I cried so hard that my body started shaking. I was full on trembling, in so much pain. I couldn't even hear myself weeping anymore, I was so numb. I couldn't feel anything, hear anything, all I felt was the tears streaming down my face.
I could barely breathe. Every breath was so hard. I tried to inhale but no air would go in. I started to hyperventilate.
“Breathe, baby, it's ok,” a quiet voice said. I opened my swollen eyes to see Bill sitting beside me, hugging me tightly. I couldn’t even feel him there. I had no idea how long he had been there.
I threw my arms around him and held him tight while I cried, this time my tears soaked his work suit. He stroked my soft brown hair to calm me down, like he has always done when I’ve been sad. He didn’t say anything, he just held me close to him while I cried.
He kissed the top of my head before he gently laid his head on top of mine, now stroking my shoulder blade with his thumb. His presence made me feel so much better, but I couldn't calm down.
I adjusted myself to be more comfortable, and he laid down on our couch and put his arm out, inviting me to lay down next to him. I rested my head on his strong chest, not crying hard anymore but the tears were still slowly spilling out.
He cuddled me and held me close until I fell asleep.
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