Chapter 3 #2
Disappointment blossomed again when I saw Jen’s name on the screen, rather than my husband’s. As angry and hurt as I was, I wasn’t sure what I would have said if it had been Ryan calling, but I was still anxious to talk to him.
I sank down onto one of the barstools and took a deep breath before answering, only to be greeted with her and my brother serenading me with their truly awful rendition of the Happy Birthday song.
Mark was totally off-key as always, and Jen’s natural vocal range spanned only about six notes, so she was pitchy at best, but that never stopped them from belting out their birthday greetings every year, without fail, to everyone in the family.
“You’d think that you two would sound better since you’ve had so much practice singing it over the years,” I joked as the last warbling note died out.
Jen snorted, while Mark protested that it wasn’t his fault that he’d inherited our father’s abysmal singing voice.
“True,” I agreed, laughing as I remembered Mom telling me last week that Dad had been asked not to sign up to perform anymore at the monthly talent show hosted by the senior center near Aunt Carol’s house.
Apparently, some of the old folks were tired of turning off their hearing aids when they saw my dad stepping up to the microphone.
“Well, my lack of singing prowess aside, how’s the birthday going? What did Ryan say when he realized he fucked up?”
I laughed at his question, deliberately modulating my voice so that I sounded chipper and unbothered as I replied, “I haven’t talked to him yet. I’m sure he’ll call once he wakes up.”
I should have known it wouldn’t fool my big brother or my best friend.
“Are you kidding me?” Jen fumed, only to be interrupted by Mark.
“I’m gonna kick his ass,” he grumbled. “What the hell is wrong with him?”
“It’s still early in Vegas. I doubt they’re even awake yet. I’m sure he’ll call in a little while,” I soothed, causing Mark to mumble something under his breath.
“Well, if he doesn’t, you let me know. I’ll be happy to straighten him out,” he assured me, before telling us that he needed to go or he’d miss his appointment to get new tires put on his car.
I heard the two of them speaking softly to each other, and then Jen took the call off speakerphone on her end.
“I think he’s just giving us time to talk privately. His appointment isn’t for an hour, and the tire shop is only a few miles away,” Jen murmured. “Now, tell me what’s going on. Have you heard from Ryan at all since he left?”
“Nope, aside from a quick text yesterday afternoon letting me know they’d arrived safely, and that he’d call me later,” I said flatly. “Spoiler alert…he didn’t call.”
“Oh, Mel.” The pity in her voice carried through the phone connection, making me angry at Ryan all over again. “I’m so sorry, hon. I know he’s been…a little inconsiderate lately,” she phrased delicately, “but I can’t believe he pulled this shit, especially today of all days.”
“Yeah, it sucks, but on the bright side, the boys sent me a gorgeous bouquet, so the day isn’t a total wash.”
“That was sweet of them,” she murmured. “I wish my aunt wasn’t in town tonight so Mark and I could take you to dinner. I hate the thought of you being alone on your birthday.”
I snickered as I pointed out that she wished her aunt weren’t in town, period. “You’ve done nothing but complain all week about her visit.”
“Ugh, I know, but I’ll never hear the end of it from her or my mom if I don’t see her while she’s here.
I just hope she has something better to talk about this time than the dates she’s been on recently.
Nobody wants to hear about their aunt – or anyone else for that matter – taking out her false teeth to give head.
She’s really come out of her shell since she and my uncle got divorced, but I wouldn’t mind her going back into it once in a while. ”
I laughed, then sobered as the word “divorce” sunk in. I took a deep breath and confessed, “I’m going to sit Ryan down for a serious talk when he gets home. I don’t think I can go on like this. I can’t…,” my voice hitched, “I can’t be the third wheel in my own marriage anymore.”
Jen’s silence spoke volumes before she said quietly, “I know, Mel, and I don’t blame you for feeling that way. Have you thought about marriage counseling?”
My chuckle was filled with more bitterness than humor as I swiped at a stray tear on my cheek. I hadn’t realized until that moment that I was crying again. “Marriage counseling, divorce lawyer, hitman…of course, the last one was for Mitch.”
“That guy is a boil on the butt of humanity,” she huffed, causing an actual snort of laughter on my end.
“An infected, pus-filled boil, yes, but I can’t blame it all on him. My husband is the one going along with it all. Mitch isn’t forcing him to go places all the time or be an inconsiderate jackass when he does bother to stay home.”
“True, but he’s a bad influence on Ryan and that doesn’t help the situation,” Jen pointed out.
“No, it doesn’t,” I agreed, then gasped and muttered, “Hang on, Jen,” as I pulled my phone away from my ear to look at the screen when another call came through. I smiled when I saw Tanner’s name on the screen, even though I was disappointed that it still wasn’t Ryan.
“Sorry,” I told her, “Tanner’s calling so I’d better talk to him while I can. They have that big fraternity thing tonight.”
“Call me later,” she instructed before hanging up, and I hit the button to accept the incoming call.
“Hey, Tanner-Banan-er!”
“Happy birthday, Mom,” both of my boys greeted me, Garrett obviously on speakerphone with Tanner.
“Oh, I’m so happy you’re both calling! Hi, Gare-Bear. I got the flowers just a little while ago. They’re beautiful, thank you.”
“We’re sorry we can’t be there to celebrate with you and Dad, but we’ll come home next weekend and make it up to you,” Tanner said.
I winced as the implication hit me. They assumed that Ryan was home and we would do something special because that’s what normal people did on their spouse’s freaking birthday.
No matter how upset I was with him though, I wouldn’t bad-mouth their father to them, so I settled for a non-committal hum and agreed that we would do something fun with them next week before changing the subject.
“Is everything on track for the fundraiser tonight?” That question sidetracked them as I’d hoped, and they spent the next few minutes regaling me with tales of the latest snafus they’d had to straighten out.
“Well, I’m sure your fraternity brothers are thankful that you were able to work it all out, and I hope it’s a successful evening for you.
I think it’s wonderful that you’re raising funds for the county’s children’s literacy program.
I’m very proud of you both for suggesting it as the recipient for this year’s event. ”
They brushed aside my praise, and I could tell they were embarrassed yet pleased by my comment.
We chatted for a few more minutes, and then one of their brothers called out to them, “Guys, bad news. One of the food trucks we booked for tonight can’t make it. Their cook gave himself food poisoning with some bad breakfast sausage this morning.”
“Oh, for fuck’s sake,” Garrett shouted, then lowered his voice and muttered, “Sorry about the F-bomb, Mom. We’ve gotta go. Love you!”
“Love you, too, and good…luck,” I trailed off as the call disconnected mid-sentence, my momentary happiness fading as reality set in once again.
It was my birthday, and I would be spending it alone.
I placed the phone back down on the countertop, then slipped off the bar stool and headed into the laundry room when the dryer buzzed. My anger slowly simmered as I folded Ryan’s socks and hung up his clothes.
“I should have just done my own laundry and left his dirty clothes in the hamper. It would have served him right if he didn’t have any clean underwear next week,” I huffed, not feeling the slightest bit guilty for the petty thought.
I tossed the last of my clothes into the washer and started it, then hauled Ryan’s clean clothes upstairs to put them away.
After a moment’s hesitation, I went into the bathroom and took a few minutes to restore order to his side of the vanity, only because looking at the stray shit he’d left scattered everywhere was pissing me off even more.
I glanced at the tub, deciding that I would try to relax with a nice, long bath.
I turned on the tap and adjusted the water temperature, then searched in the cupboard for the luxurious and outrageously expensive foaming bath salts that Ryan had put in my Christmas stocking a couple of years ago, before Mitch had come back to town and my husband started acting like he was in his twenties again.
Since I only used the salts sparingly, I had just enough left in the bottle to use today.
I unscrewed the cap and upended the container, pouring the last of it into the water below, then inhaling the scent of lavender and chamomile that was released into the air.
Stripping out of the leggings and old sweatshirt I’d been wearing to clean the house, I searched in one of the drawers for a claw clip to secure my hair out of the way.
Finally spotting one in the very back of the drawer, I reached for it, then stopped as I glanced at myself in the mirror.
I tilted my head from side to side to look at my hair from various angles, wondering if I should switch up my hairstyle a bit.
I’d worn it the same way for several years now, and my appearance felt like it was in the same rut my marriage was. Maybe it was time for a change?
My hair fell just below my shoulders in soft waves, with long, side-swept bangs. It was basic brown, which I’d always found boring, but Ryan seemed to love. In his younger, more romantic days, he once told me that it reminded him of his favorite candy, milk chocolate with hints of toffee.
I could try a long bob or use my straightener on it more often. Maybe get a few highlights to add some extra dimension to the color?