18. Amy #2
I don’t realize there’s another person in the garden until they’re sitting down on the bench next to me.
I jump out of my skin and turn to find Marjorie taking in a deep breath, a mug of steaming liquid in her hand.
If I had to guess, it’d be a whisky coffee, something I’ve learned she’s fond of.
I find it disgusting, but whatever works for her.
“Lovely day, hm?” She says before taking a sip.
Her face holds no reaction to the strong drink.
She might as well just be sipping on milk instead of black coffee and alcohol.
I’ve come to learn that’s pretty normal for Aunt Marjorie, and it’s a rather fitting example of who she is.
She deals with tough stuff and never shies away from it.
Struggles, no matter how severe, are just another part of life to her.
I admire her for it. That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t rather be sipping milk.
“Yes,” I say softly, tearing my gaze away from her drink to look out over the rest of the garden. I take a deep breath and focus back on my crocheting project. I’m working on a little smiling lily creature in hopes I’ll be able to give it to Lily soon to let her know I’ve been thinking of her.
Marjorie taps her fingernails against the ceramic of her mug as quiet settles between us. I assume she came out here for a reason, but I know I don’t need to push her to tell me. She’ll tell me when she’s ready.
It takes her a few minutes, and as time goes on, I wonder if she’s expecting something from me instead. Or maybe she just wanted to…what, come out here and just sit with me? It feels odd, but not impossible.
Finally, she speaks. “You okay, love? You’ve been a bit distant the past day or so. Even quieter than usual. Not even Bunny has been able to get through to you.”
I look up at her, a tad surprised that she’s able to tell. “Oh. Yes, I’m fine. I’ve just been…thinking a lot about things.”
Marjorie tilts her head, and I can tell she’s studying me from behind her large black sunglasses. “Thinking about what things?”
I exhale softly. I knew I’d have to tell someone at some point, but now that it’s happening, it’s daunting. Like speaking it out loud would make it real instead of just in my head. “I had to block all of my family members on my phone,” I whisper, as if that would cushion the blow of the truth.
Her eyebrows raise beyond the square frame of her glasses. “Really? Kerry told me you were communicating with them, but he didn’t say it had gotten as severe as that. That must’ve been hard for you.”
I give a small nod, looking down at the yarn in my lap again as I try to breathe through the aching in my chest. “Yes, it was. I…I haven’t told Kerry yet.”
“Hm, I see.” Marjorie takes a deep breath and lifts her face to greet the sunshine. “That would explain why my nephew is trying not to pull out his hair. I’ve had to calm him down from chasing after you and demanding how he can fix it.”
I exhale softly, a cold and clammy feeling descending over me.
“That does sound like him. I’m sorry.” How lost have I become in my head?
I didn’t even realize that Kerry was worried.
I feel bad for making him feel that way, and for making Marjorie need to help him.
Because of my silly feelings. I feel even more sick.
I’m going to be his wife, but here I am, feeling more like a ghost that roams his property.
Marjorie huffs a bit, shaking her head. “Don’t be sorry, love. You have a lot going on, and any one of them is enough to overwhelm even the most resilient of people. So just take a deep breath. You’re doing better than you think.”
Her words soothe that deep part of me that felt prickly about not being more productive after the texts started to come in.
I hadn’t even realized how much I was beating myself up about not accomplishing more.
They’re words no one has really spoken to me, and I didn’t know how much I needed them until they were said.
“Thank you, Marjorie,” I say quietly. I’m even more surprised when she reaches out and rubs my back, just for a couple of moments, but still.
She sighs when she pulls her hand away. “Do you want to talk about it?”
My lips part and then close again, not quite sure what to say.
“I feel like I was raised to be cattle. Like I was born just to be traded off in marriage to some random mafia dude, they didn’t even bother to tell me that my grandfather was in the mafia.
Everyone knew all along. I’m like an object to them, not a person. I feel like my heart is breaking.”
Marjorie tsks and shakes her head. “Kerry told me that they treated you like a pawn in a chess game, like a little doll that they could dress up and ship off like a prize. I know people like that exist, of course, but it’s always confounding to hear about.
I couldn’t have children of my own, Kerry is the closest thing I have.
I could never imagine doing that to him or any child. ”
I give a small nod, agreeing with her. “It’s hard for me to believe, too. Even harder for me to realize that that’s how I’ve been treated.”
She rubs my back again, just for a brief moment before pulling away again. “You deserve better. You deserve a place where you can fully be yourself. I think my nephew is good for you in that regard.”
I turn to give her a smile, feeling the sunshine melt away that cold and clammy feeling. “I agree. He has already been good for me.”
Maybe I needed to learn to rely on him more, bit by bit. He’s going to be my husband, after all.