This is a story that goes back a day or two, to get it from the beginning go HERE
As June hung over my head like an execution date, I couldn’t seem to spend enough time with the boy next door. I had never been so at ease with someone. We would take the girls to the beach, walk around the mall, eat at different local restaurants, or just play kickball in the backyard with them. Faith was starting to walk and she would play for hours in the sprinkler with her sister.
When England’s sister called me to start setting up all the final details for her wedding, I came through for her. I wasn’t going to let my issues ruin her wedding in any way. I was a bridesmaid after all. The wedding was planned for the beach, the reception room was set, the limo rented, tuxes laid out, and the sand castle wedding cake made.
The day finally came to pick England up at the airport. He had flown into Atlanta to save money, so I would have to drive 7 hours to pick him up. How thoughtful of him. Being the darling that I am, I rented a beautiful convertible to make the drive to pick him up. I made sure to tell him it was the cheapest car on the lot. This managed to maintain the arguing all the way back to Florida with him in the passenger seat.
Once we were in front of family however, the fake plastic smiles came out. We posed for pictures at the wedding, danced to a song, shared a piece of cake and all of those other mushy things we were “supposed” to do. I am not really sure who we were playing charades for, everyone knew I had been at my parents house since March and wasn’t going back to England until August…. Maybe. What was this act?
When we were finally alone later on that evening, that very question surfaced. Why were we pretending…? He had no idea what I was talking about, he was very much in love with me. I remember laughing at this point. You’re in love with me? We talk twice a month and when we do we are fighting, this is love? I don’t want to go back to England. I want to stay in Florida. I am happy here. I said this things out loud, but I think I really only said them to myself. He was already talking about when I got back to England and how much he missed the girls.
The next few days were fight free. He never mentioned money, doted on his daughters, smothered me in affection, and did all the right things. I was beyond confused. As I drove him back to the Atlanta airport a cloud hung over my head. What was I doing? Were my parents right? Was I acting like a horrible wife while my husband waited patiently across the Atlantic Ocean for my return? I smothered myself in guilt. It began eating at me, costing me night after night of sleep. I was a terrible mother, wife, daughter, sister… what was I doing? What was I proving?