Accidental Eavesdropping

About a week ago, Hayden, Hannah’s almost-boyfriend-but-then-Fred-happened, came by to invite Hannah to come to a string recital he was performing in. Hannah didn’t say anything, but with her mouth hanging open it was pretty obvious she was trying to find a way out of it, though since her show ended last week she didn’t have anything on hand. Lucy didn’t take any time in letting her find an excuse. She said it would be a great cultural experience for the three of us to go. Sometimes I wonder if Lucy really believes Hannah will fall for Hayden, or if she’s just trying to push her out of the picture long enough to snag Fred for herself. Sadly, I think this is motivated mostly for her own benefit.

            But Hannah wasn’t about to let her sister one-up her. She invited along Marie, Charlie, and Fred to come, too. While preferable to clubbing, I still didn’t really want to go because of the company, but I didn’t have an excuse not to go.

So on Friday, the five of us went to Hayden’s recital, which was beautiful, and much preferable to a dupstep.  After it was over, Lucy told Hannah she had to go talk to Hayden and tell him he did a great job, but Hannah wanted to slip away unnoticed, and Marie agreed that would be a good idea. Charlie became very concerned with Hannah’s manners and insisted that she go, and told her he’d go with her if it made her that anxious.

            While Hannah and Charlie left to find Hayden, Lucy pulled Fred away to look around the building the recital was in. Marie went to the bathroom, and so I waited out in the lobby. I got tired of standing, but all the seats were taken except for one nestled around a corner, which I ended up sitting in. 

That’s when Fred and Lucy stopped nearby my spot, unable to see me because of a large fern and the fact I was in this awkward nook. But they were close enough that I could hear them talk. Their conversation went a little like this:

Lucy: Hannah seemed so ready to make him her boyfriend, so sure about it, but now here she is, not even wanting to talk to him after his recital! She kept on changing her mind if she’d even go tonight, even though she promised. I had to convince her to come, and then to talk to him.

Fred: She wouldn’t have even come tonight if you hadn’t told her to?

Lucy: Probably not, no.

Fred: It’s a good thing she has you to give her direction, then.

Lucy: It’s one of her less flattering traits, her indecisiveness. Personally, I could never be that way. I’ve known I wanted to study whales ever since I saw Free Willy in elementary school, and here I am. It’s just not in my nature to change my mind.

Fred: No, I don’t think so. You have a strength, Lucy, many people don’t have. Not your sister, or…others. Don’t get me wrong, Hannah is a great person, but you are admirable. You know what you want and nothing will move you from that. It’s rare to find. 

It was quiet here, so I could only imagine why. They were probably staring at each other in that early-love kind of way, all sparking eyes and small smiles. I worried about being found then, of seeming like the creepy ex who can’t let go and resorts to stalking. So I tried to keep quiet and still. 

Marie came by them then, and asked where Charlie was. When Fred and Lucy couldn’t tell her, she made a comment about how he never bothered to keep tabs on her wellbeing, then stalked off. Which led to Fred and Lucy’s conversation:

Fred: Does she always expect to be the center of attention of everyone’s life?

Lucy: Yes, it’s that family pride of hers, with their big business and money. Except for Anne, of course. We all wish Charlie would have married Anne instead of Marie.

Fred (after a pause): Do you mean they were engaged?

Lucy: Oh, no, nothing that far. They dated for a few months, but Anne broke it off suddenly.

Fred: How long ago was this? Ten, eleven years?

Lucy: Not that long ago, I was getting my undergrad then…so five or so years ago, maybe? I’m not sure. But I wish it had worked out, I’d much rather have Anne as a sister than Marie. Our mom thinks her godmother, Ruth, had something to do with it. That a doctor’s salary wasn’t good enough for Anne, so she convinced her to break up with him. Ridiculous.

They moved on then, but I had to wait to recover from what I’d heard. I didn’t know how Fred would process this information. Would he sense it was because of him I couldn’t make things work with Charlie? Did I seem to be pining for him, unable to move on? Which, okay, I know that’s the truth. But from his perspective, it’s just creepy. And I don’t think what I feel or have done is creepy at all. A bit pathetic, yes, but nothing beyond that.

By the time I recovered and got out of my hiding spot, only Lucy, Fred, Hannah, and Hayden were outside. Hayden looked rather pleased with himself, while Hannah seemed more subdued and sheepish than usual. Lucy told me Charlie and Marie already went back home to relieve the babysitter and the rest of them were all heading out for drinks at a bar, so to get my butt in the driver’s seat.

It had been a really long week for me, and the thought of going out with them drained me all over again. That’s when Fred said that I looked tired, and asked if I wanted to stay or go home. When I said I’d prefer to leave, he said he’d take the role of designated driver for the night, then flagged down a taxi to drive me home. He even opened the door for me and gave the driver some cash to pay for the ride.

The night left me with a strange mixture of feelings. On the one hand, Fred’s interest in Lucy seemed to increase, and so the potential of something happening has increased, too. But on the other hand, Fred was so courteous to me. I couldn’t think of it any other way this time. He noticed my discomfort and remedied it. Again, I’m not suggesting he feels anything from before, but I think he doesn’t hate me anymore. He sees me as a person again, and treats me like he does to everyone else, with that kindness that always made me fall for him.

I’m glad that, if something does happen with him and Lucy, we’re at least able to interact without the anger and stress. I guess you guys are right. Things do get better.

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On a scale from 1-10

I wish I could say that I’m completely over Fred. That watching him go off with Hannah and Lucy doesn’t make me want to throw up, or seeing him doesn’t fill with excitement and dread, and that whenever he even glances at me my heart doesn’t speed for just a moment before I remember what he thinks of me. I wish I had gotten over what we had like he did. But I didn’t.

            I always have this ache in me about it, but the pain of it ranges from barely noticeable to how am I still alive? Since Fred had been gone the past week to his brother’s for Thanksgiving, it’s been duller than it has been since he came to town. Then on Monday, I was finishing up getting dinner ready for Marie when Charlie was able to come back home from work early. He talked about how he saw Fred with his sisters heading off to the movies.

            Which increased the ache, but then Charlie started talking about how he thought Fred and Lucy would make a good couple, what with both of their brains and good looks, and how Fred seemed to admire Lucy’s assertive attitude. The ache grew from there. Marie loudly protested, saying that Fred and Hannah were the better couple, since Fred was a serious businessman, he needed someone who would be more carefree than Lucy to balance him out. Besides, she said, if Hannah doesn’t end up with Fred, she’d probably be with that violin boy, or someone else in the theater, who more than likely wouldn’t make money and she couldn’t bear to be associated with someone like that.

            Then the climax of the pain came when they had a debate about who they thought he liked more. Charlie said Fred spent more time with Lucy, sat next to her more, talked with her more. Marie said that’s only because Lucy hogged him, but Fred would seek Hannah out and try to speak to her. They replayed things I’d seen for weeks now, and all in rapid succession so I could clearly see in my head that not only did he have no feelings for me anymore, but his attention was toward two other women. 

            They asked me what I thought, but I just shook my head and said that I didn’t know who he liked best. Charlie finished the debate by saying he hoped that Fred would just make up his mind soon, whomever he liked best, rather than string them along. 

            Though this is mean to my roommates, who like Fred so much and want to date him so badly, I just hope Fred leaves soon. That he goes somewhere else and finds another woman and falls in love with her where I can’t see, so it won’t hurt me as much. It’s selfish of me, but I can’t help but wish for it.

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Norman Rockwell

You know that picture Norman Rockwell drew, of the insanely perfect family at an insanely perfect Thanksgiving? Well, if you don’t here it is:

           

            Sometimes I’ve looked at it and wondered what the real story is. Which of the adults recently went through a bad divorce? Which kid is a shoplifter? Who is missing at their table, and why? I know, that’s kind of dark, but things are never as perfect as they seem—not even during the holidays.    

            Dad and Eliza refused to come down—to be reduced to guests at Charlie’s parents in their own home town would be too great an embarrassment. I wasn’t invited up to join them, either, though I’m sure I would have been fine with letting me come. It just felt weird going without the invitation.

             

            So I tagged along with Marie to her in-laws’ for Thanksgiving, as I was given an invitation there. Might as well, since my roommates were going there, too, right?

            When over at Charlie’s parents’ house, things were normal, I suppose. I mean, it wasn’t like one of the holiday episodes of a 90s sitcom where the turkey burns and the toddler gets into the pies and the annoying extended family comes and messes up the house. The food was all delicious, we had some nice conversation, I played the piano (no Elvis or Sara Bareilles, thank you), and overall it would have made a horrible TV show.

            But after a few glasses of wine, Charlie’s mom got some tears in her eyes. She looked at Charlie, Hannah, and Lucy, saying that it was their first Thanksgiving all together in six years. Then the tears increased, and she said that if only Ricky were here, it’d all be perfect.

            Ricky is a late son of theirs, he died over in Iraq eight years ago. While the three others are all very ambitious and smart, Ricky never really found anything he was good at. Unless you count harassing women a talent—I had the misfortune of being in the same year as him in school, but was plain enough that he didn’t bother groping me or making obscene comments about what I was wearing in class. Ricky barely graduated high school and spent years living off of his parents, refusing to find work or go to school. Finally, his father kicked him out of the house. Desperate for a quick way to get money and benefits, he joined the Navy. And in his first tour out, he died of injuries he got during an explosion.

            It’s one of those awkward situations where he was such an awful person, but nobody wants to say anything against the dead, especially in front of his mother. And perhaps I’m being too harsh. He was funny, when he wasn’t being offensive. And he was an excellent basketball player. I didn’t know him too well, so I’m sure there was probably something to miss. 

Anyway, while Charlie’s mom began to cry, Hannah and Lucy tried to comfort her and tell her that Ricky died protecting our nation, but she wasn’t allowing herself to be comforted.

            She ran back into her room and came stumbling out with a dirty, torn letter. It was the only one Ricky wrote during the six months he was in Iraq, just two weeks before his death. She pushed it to Charlie and asked him to read it out loud, which he did. We didn’t get past the first line, though, because Ricky mentioned he was writing with encouragement from a certain Fred everyone had been recently acquainted with.

            This sent their mom into shrieks. She demanded someone call Fred so she could talk to him right now. But, please understand, she wouldn’t have done this normally. She would have waited for him to come around again to talk, but she was tipsy and already sad about Ricky.

            Lucy pulled up his number and her mom called him. I only heard her side of the conversation, obviously, but whatever he said to her seemed to calm her down. She brought up her son, and how they served together in Iraq, and how Fred must have been such a good friend, didn’t he remember encouraging Ricky to write to his family? Then she asked Fred if he knew if Ricky said anything before he passed away. I don’t know what Fred said back to her, but she cried all over again and kept on saying “thank you, thank you, thank you” into the phone.

            After that, her husband insisted she go to bed and rest. Hannah and Lucy seemed a bit embarrassed by it, they kept on telling me that she never acts like that, this was a one-time thing. They said that I would understand, wouldn’t I, the grief of losing someone close to me? And I do. I’ve done some strange things because of losing people. Chopped off my hair, worn nothing but sweatpants and hoodies for a year, had a diet that consisted of nothing but coffee and saltines.

            And I think that’s where Norman Rockwell got things wrong. We’re all hurting over something, even if we’re happy, there’s always going to be something in all our lives that bring us to call an acquaintance on a major holiday to ask questions about someone he probably doesn’t remember. And that’s fine, that doesn’t take away from the joy of a new baby or everyone coming to Thanksgiving. But it still affects us, and comes back to haunt us, no matter how perfect the outside may seem.

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Things are getting better, I think

There’s been a few changes around here lately, the main reason being that a guy Hannah was seeing before Fred got into town—the violinist—came back from his tour last week. The violinist (let’s just call him Hayden) was, to say the least, not very happy to find out that another man has been hanging out with Hannah, even though the two of them aren’t anything. But Hannah’s been putting off getting coffee with Hayden and has lost interest in him. One guess why.

            Lucy’s really been pushing Hannah to give Hayden a chance, probably in order to make getting Fred for herself easier and less awkward, but Hannah mumbles about how things have changed, she was just bored before, what they had wasn’t as strong as she’d thought. If Fred hadn’t come into town, though, I’m sure Hannah wouldn’t be saying this.

            But that hasn’t been the only difference around here. Last Friday, I had a big case I had to work on—like, hundreds of thousands of dollars at risk if I didn’t sort things through efficiently. I’m still working at home three days out of the week, and this was one of them. 

First, Hayden came over looking for Hannah, and I said she went to the grocery store with Lucy but would be back soon, so he decided to stay and wait. Then Fred came by too, looking for Hannah and Lucy. I told him the same thing and he decided to stay as well.

            A bit uncomfortable, but at least I could concentrate on the case while the two of them stared at each other awkwardly.

            Then Marie came. She insisted that I watch my nephew while she went to the grocery store to buy supplies for Thanksgiving. Even when I told her I had important work to do, she gasped and said, “More important than Little Charlie?” When I asked why she couldn’t just bring him she said that children are too difficult to deal with in public areas.

            Little Charlie was already getting into my pots and pans while Marie hurried out, so I had no choice but to watch him. I took the pots and pans away because it was making it too hard to talk on the phone with another one of the company’s attorneys, then he decided the only other thing good enough in the apartment to play with was me. He kept on climbing and my back and shouting “Pyop me! Pyop me!” which is two-year-old for “plop me,” meaning he wanted our game where I “plopped” him onto the couch. I had to work on this case, but Little Charlie was making it nearly impossible, even when I asked him to stop.

            Hayden just sat at a kitchen stool watching me struggle. But after a few minutes of this, Fred walked over from where he was in the front part of the room and removed Little Charlie from my back, and played with him while I finished up my phone call and worked more on the case.

            Nothing else happened, really. Hannah and Lucy got back, Hayden left after enduring ten minutes of being ignored, and Marie picked up Little Charlie. Fred didn’t say a word to me—he still hardly looks at me—but this has to be something, right? After all, Hayden didn’t even do anything, and we don’t have an awkward history or anything. Fred didn’t need to help me, but he did. I’m not crazy enough to suggest that he’s feeling anything that he felt eight years ago, but maybe he’s not as mad at me? Maybe we’re on the right track to becoming...not friends, but maybe not as awkward as it has been. 

            Though maybe he was just sick of hearing Little Charlie scream. That’s probably the more likely answer. Still, it’s not like anything is getting worse.

            Well, I probably won’t see Fred for a while, anyway. He and Carrie and Adam left for Thanksgiving at their brothers’ house and won’t be back until Sunday. Which reminds me, I’m planning on not posting Wednesday, since pre-Thanksgiving preparations will keep me busy. Have a Happy Thanksgiving to all of you in the states, and I’ll see you in a week.

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Talking to Ruth

            Ruth was supposed to get back this week from her trip to Europe, but her daughter broke her leg, so rather than coming back home she’s going to stay with her daughter to help her out.

            I have missed Ruth the past few weeks, but I’m relieved that she isn’t coming back right now. I think she might have blown the agreement between Fred and I to pretend nothing happened between us. She called me yesterday from her daughter’s house to catch up with what had happened, since time differences and schedules kept us from talking much while she was in Europe.

            You all have been so wonderful about reading my blog and responding to my problems, but at that moment, I was tired of keeping it all inside of me. I started to tell Ruth about the fact Fred had come back into town, but she interrupted me and immediately began to rant against him. How dare he show up again? Didn’t he know he almost ruined my life, if she hadn’t come in and straightened everything again? He was so selfish back then, trying to get to my money, and now he still showed that selfishness in coming back to gloat about his own wealth. What a social-climbing, manipulative, lazy jerk.

            Ruth then began to lecture me about how I should avoid him at all costs, no matter what. I managed to tell her we’d decided to pretend as if we had never dated, to make things less awkward with our social circle, so would she please not say anything to anyone else about it? Ruth huffed but agreed, and I trust she’ll keep that.

            We hung up and I was no more satisfied than before we talked. That’s always been the thing about Ruth, she believes she knows what’s best for me, and so rather than hearing my problem out, she hears a fraction and then lectures me on what I should do. I love Ruth and know she has my best interests at heart, but how can she know what I need before I tell her how something is making me feel?

            It’s times like this I miss my mom a lot. She always listened to me all the way through, then asked me what I thought I should do. When I would tell her what I thought, she’d either give me that proud smile, or she’d ask questions that prompted me to discover the better answer. Or, when it was something that hurt and couldn’t be fixed, she’d just hug me and hum a song, and I felt safe and loved. And that’s all I really needed. Still all I need now, but here I am with no one to really listen.

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