Diary of a Single Wedding Planner (Tales Behind the Veils Book 1) (27 page)

I shrugged. “Must be all the nature, helping to clear my mind.”

“City living is bad for your health, ya know.”

“Maybe so, but for now, it’s home.” I thought about my cozy little apartment, all my friends from work, and Cabe. I missed my home. Which made me think about Mama probably going crazy wondering where we were and what was happening.

“I’m surprised Mama hasn’t called,” I said, reaching into my back pocket to pull out my phone.

“I’d be surprised if you get a signal out here,” he laughed.

He was right. No signal at all.

“Wow. I haven’t been anywhere completely off the grid in a very long time.” I thought about how enticing it sounded to be somewhere no bride could reach. That would backfire though, because then they’d be even more frantic by the time you got back to them.

Dwayne stood and extended his hand to pull me up. I grabbed hold and stood, brushing off the back of my jeans with my phone hand. On the second swipe of my jeans, it went flying. The phone arced up high and then fell ever so slowly and gracefully right into the rushing water. It was like watching a disaster movie in slow motion.

“No!” I screamed, nearly diving in after it instinctively. Dwayne ran along the edge of the bank, looking like he’d jump in any minute. “It’s no use,” I said. “Forget it. I can’t believe I just did that. Oh my God. My phone. Holy crap! My phone is gone.”

I suddenly felt disconnected from the world, which I know is a bit dramatic, but I practically live on my phone. Between calls, texts, and e-mail, it is my line of constant communication with everyone around me. I felt punched in the gut as I searched the water for any miraculous floating, bobbing electronic. None appeared.

We both walked to the truck in a somber mood. Me for the loss of my phone; Dwayne for the loss of his safety net, I suppose. I guess it would have been kinder to give that speech after Christmas, but it happened so spur of the moment. The river moved me. I didn’t plan to say it. Or feel it.

“You still want me to come over on Christmas?” I asked as he turned us around on the dirt road. He looked at me like a seven-year-old who’s been offered a puppy.

“Would you? Please?”

I nodded, no longer feeling any conflict or tension about it. No uncertainty. All that Oprah channeling had mellowed me out for the moment.

“Sure,” I said. “I don’t want us to not be friends, Dwayne. I want us to stay in touch. We can hang out while I’m here.”

He dropped me off without coming inside. Mama was fit to be tied and so stressed out in the kitchen she didn’t even ask what had happened with Dwayne. My brother Brad had called to say he was staying at his girlfriend Kelly’s for dinner, and my sister Carrie ended up working a double-shift at the restaurant. Mama had no help all afternoon. I felt bad about bailing on her, so I spent the rest of the night busting my butt to try and make up for it. A little after nine o’clock she finally turned and said, “Soo? How did your day with Dwayne go?”

“Good,” I said.

She stopped stirring and peered at me over the top of her glasses.

“That’s it? Good? Humph.” She started stirring again, and I opened my mouth to elaborate, but decided not to. I didn’t know for sure what all had transpired in me this afternoon, and I certainly wasn’t ready for Mama to analyze it and pick it apart. Surprisingly, she didn’t push it. I think she had too much else on her mind. Maybe it’s a good thing we’re hosting after all.

Tuesday, December 24
th

Christmas Eve

At the risk of sounding like a soft-focus Hallmark commercial, today illustrated what a holiday’s supposed to be. I’ve never felt so warm and fuzzy about my family before. Maybe being away for so long made me appreciate how cool it is to belong to the group. I’ve had great friends who have graciously invited me to be a part of their holidays since I left here, and I appreciated their inclusion. It’s hard to be a part of someone else’s holiday, though. You’re always aware you aren’t family. You don’t really belong.

Today, I belonged. It was
my
family.
My
people.
My
aunts and uncles.
My
cousins. Some of whom look so much like me we could be siblings. And of course, my siblings were here today. It has been three years since me, Tanya, Carrie, and Brad have all been in the same place at the same time. I never thought too much about it before, but today I looked at my brother and sisters around me, and it felt cool. To be part of something. To have history. A connection no one can break or decide to walk away from. Which is kind of ironic considering I walked away, but distance can’t make us not be siblings.

Several relatives from my dad’s side were here, which was awesome. My life in Florida is so far removed from my dad. I loved hearing people talk about him today, telling stories and sharing funny memories of him. We laughed and laughed. What a great feeling to allow myself to remember him with laughter and joy. Free to share without fear of the emotion behind it. They all loved him like I did. They miss him like I do. No one in my daily circle had ever met my dad, so it’s like he doesn’t exist sometimes. Here, at home, in his house, surrounded by his family, I felt him with me today like I haven’t in a really long time.

I guess maybe I moved on from Oprah to channel Shirley MacLaine or some psychic medium or something, but I literally felt my dad’s presence laughing with us and reminding us of him.

There were entire blocks of time when I forgot to miss my phone. Normally, I check it every few minutes, but today a couple of hours would go by without me even reaching for it. Bizarre.

I didn’t hear from Dwayne, but that didn’t surprise me. I knew he had his kids for Christmas Eve, so I expected him to be preoccupied. Plus, I didn’t know how he reacted to everything Oprah Me laid on him yesterday.

I called Cabe from our home phone this morning and told him mine was lost.

“I accidentally threw it in a river,” I said.

“What the hell were you doing in a river?”

“I wasn’t
in
the river. I was on the river bank. I was brushing grass off my butt and my phone went flying.”

“Okay, then. Dare I ask why you were on a river bank with grass on your ass?”

“So, what is Santa Claus bringing you?” I didn’t care to explain the whole Dwayne in the woods scenario, so I hoped Cabe wouldn’t protest the subject change.

“A bottle of Bombay Sapphire if he doesn’t check the list, and a bottle of Tanqueray or Gordon’s if he does,” he answered.

“He always checks the list. Twice, remember? He knows who’s been naughty and nice! He should bring you an alarm clock so your mommy wouldn’t have to come and wake your grown ass up in the morning to go to work.”

“Very funny,” he said in his snarky, nasal tone. “She only comes in if she can’t sleep. She gets up and bakes. I had an alarm set on my phone to get my grown ass up, thank you very much. It went off about fifteen minutes after you left.”

“What did your mom say about me being there?” I asked, curious if they talked about it at all. I hoped she didn’t think less of me.

“Nothing, why?”

“Oh, just wondering.” My nephew came running in to tell me they were looking for me, so I told Cabe I had to go.

“Well, Buttercup, keep the grass off your ass. I guess you’re not going to explain that one. I probably don’t want to know. I hope Santa brings you everything you wished for.”

“Not likely! I don’t think he’s gonna cram Prince Charming down my mama’s chimney.”

“Prince Charming is a putz. He’s overrated,” Cabe snorted.

He may be right. A whole lot of things are turning out different than I thought on this trip, so it would be just my luck to have Prince Charming delivered and then find out he was some boring sop who drove me nuts. I mean, in all these stupid fairy tales, they pretty much meet one time before declaring love. What if the princess marries him and discovers he doesn’t eat with a fork or he refuses to bathe? What if Charming is just his last name and not his one-word profile?

Wednesday, December 25
th

Christmas Day

So much for the whole fa-la-la-la-la, peace on Earth malarkey.

The drama kicked off early this morning right after breakfast when my little brother announced his plans to go to his girlfriend’s for the day. He simply finished his eggs, thanked Mama for his presents, kissed the top of her head, and said, “See ya later, I’m headed over to Kelly’s.”

I saw the look of shock on her face and braced myself for the inevitable storm.

“So early? I thought you were going over there for dinner tonight,” she said.

“Nah. I told her I’d come on over right after breakfast,” he said, putting on his coat and heading out the door.

“Well, when will you be home?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I’ll call ya. Bye, Ty. Merry Christmas!”

Just like that. Gone. No lengthy, drawn-out arguments or drama scenes. Well, not for him anyway.

I got to spend the next hour and a half listening to her cry and complain about how Brad spends too much time with Kelly and bends over backward for her. Mama feels like Kelly doesn’t like her or show her the proper respect. She even complained this would be the first Christmas without Brad in the house. She didn’t know if it could be Christmas at all without him there. Never mind that I haven’t been home in three years before today. No sirree. My brother ruined Christmas by going to his girlfriend’s house.

Mama complained all over again when my sisters arrived, and through the entire hubbub of presents, cooking, cleaning, and chasing around Tanya’s kids, Mama still did not let go of Brad’s absence. She weaved it into every conversation.

“Mama, give it a rest,” said Carrie, usually the one willing to tell her to cut her crap. “What did you think, that he’d just sit around here all day again? He’s nineteen, Mama. He has a girlfriend. He hung out all day yesterday with the fam, so of course he wants to be with her today.”

“Well, why couldn’t they come over here?” Mama pouted.

“Did you invite her?” Carrie asked.

“What? Why would I need to invite her? She’s over here all the time as it is. Never gives him a moment’s peace. And if she ain’t here, she’s calling or texting.”

“I’m sure her family is having something today,” Tanya said. “He spent yesterday with us. Let him be with her today.”

“I thought I’d finally have all my kids here together for Christmas,” she cried.

“And you did, Ma. Yesterday!” Carrie showed her annoyance with a loud sigh and got up from the table, right in the middle of our card game.

“Where are you going?” Mama asked. “Aren’t you gonna play?”

“I’m going to the bathroom, Mother!” Carrie yelled. It seemed to be a cue for everyone to get up and fix a drink or get a snack, so I took the opportunity to go in the kitchen and call Dwayne. I hadn’t heard from him yet, and with the whole Brad situation, Mama wouldn’t be too keen on me leaving. I figured I’d see if he wanted to come over here after his kids left. How awkward could it be?

The clock in the kitchen said a little after two, and he planned for Ellain to pick the girls up right around noon, so I figured it was safe to call. It rang four or five times and went to voice mail, so I left a message saying Merry Christmas and hung up.

Almost immediately, the phone rang.

“Hey! Merry Christmas!” I said.

A pissed-off female voice screamed into my ear. “Just who the hell is this, and why are you calling my husband?”

It was so unexpected I thought perhaps I had screwed up big time and called some random wrong number with my message, so I checked the caller ID. Sure enough, it said Dwayne Davis.

“Who is this?” she demanded.

“Who is this?” I asked back, still confused but pretty sure I knew who she was.

“This is the wife of the man you’re calling, and I want to know who is calling my husband.”

I heard Dwayne in the background, telling her to give him the phone and pleading with her to hang up.

They cursed and screamed at each other for a couple of minutes before I went ahead and hung up on my end.

What the hell??? Were they still married? Had he played me somehow? They couldn’t be, though. Mama had talked to other people in town who said he was divorced. If he was still married, why would he lie about it and insist I come to his house for Christmas? It’s not like she wouldn’t notice if I showed up on Christmas Day. So if he was telling the truth, and he was divorced, then why was his ex-wife calling me back all pissed off and laying claim to her husband? Didn’t she leave him?

The phone rang again, and I picked it up and put it back down with no acknowledgment. I had no desire to be cursed at or yelled at. This is where it would be good to have my cell phone instead. The home phone is great for the dramatic receiver slam-down, but the cell phone is awesome for hitting
ignore
and making them go away. The phone rang again. I picked up and hung up again and switched the ringer off on the side of the phone.

“Who keeps calling?” Mama yelled from the dining room.

“Wrong number,” I lied, not even wanting to go into it with everyone. I sat down and asked whose turn it was just as the phone rang again from the bedroom. Another advantage to a cell phone. There’s only one of them to turn off.

“Well, who on earth?” Mama said, pushing back her chair to get up. “Why isn’t the kitchen phone ringing? Did you do something to the phone?”

I stood back up and rushed to get to the kitchen before her. “I got it, Mama. I’ll get it.”

She beat me to it.

“Merry Christmas!” Mama crooned into the phone, not even bothering to say hello first. She stayed silent for a minute, and I cringed at the thought of her getting cursed at on my account. But then her voice changed and I knew it was Dwayne. “Well, hello there,” she said, dripping sugar. “Did Santa Claus come to your house?”

I tried to motion to her that I didn’t want to talk, but she paid no attention to me. She was all ears for Dwayne. “Now will we get to see you today? I sure hope so!” Mama giggled in response to whatever he said and ignored me. Then, he must have finally asked for me because she turned and said, “Here she is, honey.”

She handed the phone to me, and I tried again to motion that I didn’t want to take it. Her nose wrinkled up in a frown. “Tyler, take the phone. It’s Dwayne.”

Like I didn’t know that.

I groaned and took the phone from her, hoping she’d go back to the dining room so I could have a private conversation.

“Hey, Ty! Merry Christmas!”

“Really, Dwayne? That’s how you’re going to start this?”

“I know, girl. You must be wondering what’s going on over here.”

“Um, yeah. That question had crossed my mind.”

I could hear Ellain in the background on the other end, raising hell and telling Dwayne to “get that bitch off the phone.”

“You seem to be having a lovely Christmas, Dwayne,” I said. “I’m going to let you go now, so you can deal with the raving lunatic screaming at you. Goodbye.”

I heard what sounded like “Tyler, wait!” but I hung up anyway. I turned around to see my mother, both of my sisters, one of my brother-in-laws, and my niece all standing in the kitchen staring at me.

“Don’t ask,” I said, throwing my hand up in their direction. They all scattered back to the dining room table as I passed them. Mama dared ask first, of course.

“What happened?”

“Mama, I don’t want to talk about it. Can we just finish the card game?” I sat back down and picked up my cards, determined not to let Dwayne’s issues ruin my day.

About an hour later, he rang our doorbell. I stepped out on the porch and pulled the door shut, careful not to let it slam this time.

“Tyler, darlin’, I’m so sorry. I can’t apologize enough,” Dwayne said. “Ellain came over last night, crying and saying she missed the kids and missed our life. She didn’t want to be without ’em on Christmas Eve, which I totally get, ’cause I didn’t want to be away from ’em today, ya know? So anyway, she ended up spending the night.”

I put my hand up and motioned for him to stop.

“I don’t need to hear this,” I said. “You don’t have to tell me this.”

“No, wait, I want you to know,” he started, but I didn’t let him finish.

“Dwayne, seriously, you don’t have to tell me. You don’t owe me any explanation this time. We aren’t together, remember? You don’t have to explain anything to me.”

“It’s just that she wants to get back together, and I don’t know if I should. I mean, it’s Christmas. The kids were so happy when they woke up and we were both there. I don’t know what to do, Tyler.”

“Wait a minute. Are you apologizing that your ex-wife cussed me out, or are you asking me for relationship advice?” I knew on some intellectual level none of this should matter to me in the least, but it struck a little too close. I sensed my inner Oprah channel starting to get a little fuzzy.

“No, I mean, yes. I mean, of course I’m apologizing, and I’m real sorry she did that. She thought you and I had gotten back together, and she’s always been a little sensitive where you’re concerned.”

Okay, the inner channel completely switched from Oprah to Jerry Springer. Too much old baggage bubbling up in this scenario. I took a step back and waved one finger in the air. “
She
is sensitive about
me
? She stole my boyfriend right out from underneath me and married him before I even knew what happened, and
she
is sensitive? Oh, that’s classic, Dwayne. That’s just freakin’ classic.”

(I might add it is very possible I didn’t say freakin’ at all here, but I can’t bring myself to write that word. It’s bad enough I said it, on Christmas no less, and on my mama’s front porch in full earshot of my entire eavesdropping family. But to write it feels extra sinful.)

“I know, darlin’,” he tried to say.

“Do not even call me darlin’. I ain’t your darlin’ and I ain’t been your darlin’ since you left me for her. Let me tell you something, Dwayne Davis. I thought we had reached some kind of peaceful agreement yesterday, and I felt real good about that. Now I don’t know what you have going on with the psycho bitch you married, but if you feel like this is the right thing for your kids, then your ass has no business on my porch. It needs to be back over there with her trying to work this out. If you don’t think it’s good for you and your kids, then you might want to get a restraining order because she seems a little cray-cray. Either way, I’m out of this dog fight. I don’t have anything in it. No kids, no wives, no boyfriends, nothing. This time around, I’m sitting this one out. I wish you both all the best, but please get the hell off my porch and tell your crazy ex-wife, or wife, or whatever she is not to call here again.”

My Southern accent is always thick when I’m angry, and after days of being influenced by those around me it blossomed to full-on drawl. I finished my speech and turned on my heel so fast a soap-opera casting agent would have hired me on the spot. I yanked at the handle of the screen door to pull it open dramatically, but my hand slipped off and my nail broke. I screamed out in pain, which only fueled my anger and frustration.

My sister Carrie opened the door and stepped out on the porch. When she determined he’d done nothing to make me scream, Carrie said, “Dwayne, I think she asked you to leave.”

“Tyler, I’m sorry,” he said.

“I know that, Dwayne. Really, I do. But I gotta be done, dude. Just let it go.” I nudged Carrie to open the door. We walked back inside and left him to straighten out his own mess.

“You did good, baby,” Carrie said.

“You don’t think I overreacted?” I asked.

“No. I don’t even know what happened, and I don’t care. With Dwayne Davis involved, you needed to be chewing his ass.”

So much for calm and peaceful Zen. Just when I thought I’d mastered the whole Oprah thing, too. Oh well.