15. Abigail – “I’ve always said music should make you laugh, make you crymake you think.”-Kenny Rogers
15
Abigail
“I’ve always said music should make you laugh, make you cry or make you think.”-Kenny Rogers
“Oh my God! How freaking cute is this?” Jenna holds up a onesie with the words, Daddy's football buddy . Then she holds up another one that says, Future Football star.
“If he has Troy’s genes, he definitely will be our next football star, right?” She says more like an announcement than a statement as she smiles, staring back at all the girls watching her as she opens gifts.
Jenna was marrying an NFL player, which didn’t shock me. She was tall and athletic growing up, so marrying someone of that caliber makes sense. But what surprised me was that she was the first of us to get married. I thought it would be Naomi, since she had a checklist and has always been such a girly-girl. I was certain getting married by twenty-six would be number one on her checklist of a perfect life.
“This one is from Brielle,” Natasha says as she hands Jenna another gift.
There were so many people here. I was hoping she would be exhausted by the time she got to my gift and tell everyone she’d open the rest later. I didn’t know what to get her, so I opted for a Visa gift card she could use for whatever she wanted. And if I was being honest, I was too pissed to look at the baby registry she sent me through text. I barely heard from my cousins these past four years, and after they all ignored my phone calls and texts the few weeks before my graduation, asking if they were coming, I couldn’t bring myself to get excited for her. Ya, I know I sounded bitter, but I didn’t care.
I almost skipped out on coming to this overly hyped-up event at all, but I knew I would never hear the end of it from my Aunt and mom, particularly my mom since she kisses my aunt’s ass.. I came here mainly because I had nothing better to do, and I wanted to avoid being alone with my parents at the house. I needed to find a job soon that would work around my schedule when I returned to medical school in the fall.
I look up and see Jenna's friends taking pictures of her as she holds up another gift.
“You are going to be the most beautiful bride, Jenna. You are so gorgeous.” Some girls says.
“This baby is going to be beautiful.”
“Troy hit the jackpot with you, beautiful bride and beautiful babies coming up!”
I look over and see a girl jumping up and down as if she’s the one getting married and having a kid. Shaking my head, I pull my earbud case out of my purse and start listening to some music as I pretend to be involved in this exhausting, prissy girl crap.
It’s like my mom’s ears were burning because, right when I feel a small smile form on my face from the music soothing my soul, my mom walks through the front door, wiping it away. She struts down the hallway to the kitchen, my sister following behind her as she carries her baby girl. I was excited to see my niece, whom I hadn't seen since she was born. Now that she’s older, she’s crawling and starting to be more active, according to my mom, who I had to listen to ramble on for two hours last night when I got home. I wasn’t even there for twenty-four hours, and I was already miserable.
No, welcome back, or we are proud of you, honey.
Not even a “way to go,” with a pat on the back.
My mom acted like me returning home was seen as a failure since I didn’t stay away long enough. Regardless if I graduated college or not
My parents' relationship was on the rocks, but now it’s moved into the ocean, crashing up against the shores repeatedly. In the short time I’ve been there, I’ve realized my dad completely ignores my mom. It’s why Mom is so desperate for anyone to listen to her. Just by being in their presence, I can sense how miserable they are together. It was obvious my mom was only staying around for the money. Just like all the women in my family have been taught. I look over at Jenna, who’s glowing, not because she was pregnant, but because she got knocked up by an NFL player who agreed to marry her to give the baby a last name after my aunt Martha guilt-tripped the fuck out of him. Troy never had a chance.
“No, they can start eating at six months,” my sister says as I take my AirPods out of my ears and put them back in the case.
“Ya, but only soft foods. No chips.” My mom says.
“She has teeth.” My sister says, holding a potato chip to my niece's mouth. Little Aria grabs it and giggles, placing the whole thing in her mouth. I laugh as I watch her suck on it like it’s a piece of candy before chewing it, slowly savoring the new taste in her mouth.
“Hey there, cutie,” I say as I walk into the kitchen, smiling at that round face and gummy baby smile.
“Well, hey there, college graduate,” my sister says, holding out an arm to give me a side hug as she holds little Ava in her arms. She wanted to keep the A-name tradition going since her name was Adalee, and mine was Abigail, so she named her daughter Aria. I thought it was perfect.
“Same. It will feel different once I’m out of medical school, helping people, while I make money and pay bills, whoohoo.” I say in a monotone voice as I pop a grape in my mouth.
“Well, I think it’s pretty cool how you're standing on your own two feet and becoming an independent woman. A first for any of the women in this family,” she says, eyeing my mom.
Warmth spreads across my chest down to my core. My sister has been the only one who’s ever had my back when it comes to anything I put my mind to. If I did pursue a music career, she would be the only one to support me. I’m willing to put in the work, but I’m not dumb. My chances of making it in that cutthroat industry are slim to none. Especially since I’m not movie star-worthy when it comes to my looks. So I opted for practical, even though a part of me regrets not pursuing the music world.
“Thanks,” I tell Adalee with a coyish smile.
“Getting married and having kids is overrated,” she whispers into my ears.
“Hey, nothing wrong with having security.” My mom says. “Remember what I told you girls growing up? Women want security, and men want respect.”
“Do you have security, Mom? Knowing that Dad could wake up any day and say he’s fallen in love with another woman since you let him roam free with no consequences?” I knew my comment wasn't subtle in any way, but her whole thinking process pissed me off.
Why doesn’t she fight? Why doesn’t she believe in herself more?
“That’s not true. Do you think that house we moved into two years ago was his call?” She wipes her hands on the dish towel. “Please, he knew it would be his balls on the chopping block if he didn’t comply, not after being married for twenty years.”
Dad is a good-looking guy who makes great money, and my mom had her dream house, which she had always wanted, with a pool in the backyard and a hot tub. So, I can’t deny that my dad was a great provider and would give my mom anything when it came to material things, but is all that stuff worth giving up your peace of mind? Your sanity? Your self-worth?
“Besides, that’s what marriage is for.”
“To trap the guy?” Adalee says as she holds a veggie stick to Aria’s mouth.
“No, to ensure you have security , and make no mistake, marriage makes it harder to leave. Why do you think your Aunt Martha pestered Troy? And your dad knows I would get half of everything, and that kills him more than having some ass on the side.”
I breathe deeply as I try to wrap my head around my mom's logic. Can she even hear herself ? My grandma taught my mom and aunt to get married and have kids, and as long as the man provided, the woman just needed to keep her mouth closed and look pretty doing it.
I loved my grandma and will always respect her because she’s the only one who ever acted like she gave a damn about me growing up, but what she taught all the women in the family was a curse.
All my cousins and my sister were drop-dead gorgeous, so it was easy for them to pursue that dream. I, on the other hand, with my tight curls, round face, and big eyes, made it damn near impossible for that to be my reality.
“Again, I think what Abigail is doing is wise. I’ve only been married to Ahad for two years, and it’s already tiring having him control all the money and see what I spend, but when it comes to him, he can do what he wants, spend what he wants, and I can’t say anything.”
“Well, that’s also because he’s foreign, honey. They are known to be control freaks, especially in terms of finances. It's a trade-off, though. You get to stay home and enjoy this beautiful baby.” She grabs Aria's little hand and wiggles it gently “You’re not out there hustling like some women. It’s not a bad thing what you got going. Count your blessings, Adalee. You could be under stress like Abigail.” Adalee eyes me, giving me a sympathetic look, but I force a small smile, letting her know I’m not even offended. Not after all these years.
“And like I’ve always told you girls, it could be worse. Be grateful, Adalee. You have a beautiful home and can go shopping anytime you want.” My mom places a few veggies and chips on her plate, along with half a turkey sandwich from the food displayed across the large kitchen island.
Ahad’s dad owned a bunch of rental property, and his dad was married to a wealthy woman who died a few years back, which I still think is a mystery. Especially since he inherited a 11 million, which he used to invest in real estate, and opened a little Greek restaurant to help bring in more cash flow. He may be a shallow, narcissistic asshole, but he was a great businessman. He’s gotten nicer to me over the years, too. I wasn’t sure if it was because deep down he respected me or he was not as energetic due to being a husband and new father now.
My mom’s phone rings, and I know it’s my dad. She had no friends, so he was the only person ever calling her. It’s been only one day, and I want to return to California. I wouldn’t dare ask to stay with my sister, nor could I study with a baby once I was back in school, so that idea was out.
“No, Micheal, that was the other credit card.”
I hear my dad yell through the phone.
“Don’t get mad at me. I’m not the one who canceled the other credit card. I had to open a new one. How else was I going to get groceries or buy my granddaughter anything? Plus, I had to get a gift for Jenna’s baby shower.”
I hear him say get a fucking job, along with some more bantering.
This is why I would never marry a guy just for money or how the women in my family like to put it, be taken care of. No matter how generous the guy is or how in love you two are when you get married, everyone can feel used if the relationship is unequal. I did study biology, and to be honest, women have to pull their weight just as much as men. It’s not enough to just be pretty and think that will satisfy a man over time.
That’s what I told myself anyway. Maybe a part of me said that to myself because relying on my looks wasn’t an option.
Adalee walks off to the living room with aria. I start to follow her lead, but I need to use the restroom before going back into that torture dungeon with all the chatty girls.
I wash my hands, dry them on a towel, and avoid the mirror as I open the door. When I take a step, I’m faced with a hard chest.
“Excuse me,” I say, looking up at the big, muscular guy. “Troy, congratulations,” I say, recognizing him from the photos on Jenna’s Facebook.
“Hey, you must be the little cuz,” he brings me in for a hug with his thick, cut arms.
“Yup, that’s me,” I say, trying to breathe in his gorilla grip. He releases me and eyes me up and down.
“You are shorter in person than your pictures give off on Facebook.” A wide smile spreads across his face, revealing his perfectly white teeth against his brown complexion. “Little shorty. I like it. Were you a cheerleader growing up? Because you are the perfect size for one.”
Gross. It hasn’t even been one minute before he's making sexual innuendo that’s related to football.
“No, orchestra. Violin to be exact. Being a nerd was my hobby.”
He chuckles lightly “Nice, little geeky chic; the quiet ones are always the freakiest ones,” he says, placing a hand on my shoulder.
“Dang, this thing is still not over?” Two other large guys walk in as I grab one of the water bottles on the table, twisting the cap open. I nearly choke as I take a sip. You have to be kidding me. Josh’s brother is here? Josh was too occupied fucking that blonde chic and getting in trouble, so he never told me much about his brother before now, so I am not surprised he didn’t mention he would be at my cousin's baby shower.
I try to run off before he spots me, but when I catch his eye, I know I’m too late. He tips his head to the side, furrows his eyebrows together, and takes me in.
Yup, it’s me, asshole.
I don’t stop and say hi. I just continue to walk back into the living room. I sit back down and take a breath. I know he won’t chance coming in here with a bunch of drunk women, since my cousin decided to have wine and champagne for the guests.
“Okay, it’s picture time.” A lady says, jumping up from her seat.
Fuck me. Can I just catch a break?
“Let’s take it in front of the Oh baby sign,” Natasha says. Of course, she’s still bossing people around. I’m surprised she hasn’t asked me to do anything I don’t want, like crying in a closet. Memories of us playing together flood my mind as I watch Natasha conduct the show.
As much as I hated to admit it, it was lonely in California. Unlike here, that state is excellent for staying focused and busy. Everyone there is career-focused, so getting married and having kids is the furthest thing on their minds. But, if it weren’t for Josh and Melanie, I would have gone off the deep end, especially since I moved there shortly after Blake died. I was still a mess dealing with the guilt and memory of that night. I had nightmares where I would wake up in sweats and feel so out of control that I started starving myself again. And when I felt my body craving certain foods, I gave into the temptation and binged ate until my stomach hurt, throwing up afterward. It was a cycle of self-sabotage, and I knew I was sick, but I couldn’t stop. I did it for a year, thinking no one cared since I was alone until I found Josh and Mel. They helped me to snap out of it. And instead of using Blake's death as a punishment to myself, I used it as a wake-up call.
“Abs, come on,” I cringe at the sound of that name. It’s been years since I’ve heard someone call me that. My cousins are the only ones that knew Blake’s nickname for me, and it stuck, but they also knew his death took a toll on me.
“Sorry, Abigail,” Jenna adds when she sees my facial expression.
Reluctantly, I get up and walk over to the group of girls to get in the picture. One picture, that’s it, I tell myself. One of the girls jogs over to the selfie stick, putting the timer on her phone camera.
“Okay, everyone smile,” she says as she jogs back to her position. The timer goes off, and the camera flashes. I begin to walk off when the same girl goes.
“Okay, let's take another one for good measure, just in case anyone wasn’t looking.” I resume my position inwardly, cursing to myself.
The timer counts down again, the camera flashes again, and the girl speaks right after, again.
“Okay, now let's take one of the bride-momma over here by the balloons.” I take it as my cue to leave and find something comforting to do, like eat. I didn’t know anyone here except my family, so occupying my time surrounded by food instead of people, sounded like an excellent detour plan. I walk back into the kitchen and see it’s empty. Thank God. I stride over to the table, and place some veggies on my plate.
Ever since that day I was hospitalized, I developed a bad habit. I didn’t realize it was a habit until a few years ago. When I had the free pass of gaining weight after I was released, I bought tons of gum or sucked on candy to help with my cravings. My body was starving, and I knew once I started eating something, I could quickly feel myself binge. Shortly after came the urge to throw it all up, and since I became an expert at being bulimic, I knew how to vomit with little effort. So, to help myself through those temptations, I would carry gum or candy with me, and as soon as I felt full after eating, I put gum or candy in my mouth to stop me from overindulging. I developed somewhat of an oral fixation after that, which my ex-boyfriend had no problem dealing with. It felt like I had to always have something in my mouth. I was definitely what you would call a snacker. At first, I thought the nickname Minnie Mouse was cute, but after our first big fight and he said that name, it only irritated me, causing me to flinch anytime I heard the name Minnie Mouse, altogether.
“Why are you not in there taking photos?” A male voice asks behind me. I jerk, almost knocking my plate to the floor, as I turn around to see who I think it is.
“Oh, you,” I murmur, turning my attention back to my paper plate of rabbit food.
Josh’s brother chuckles lightly. “Ya figured you wouldn’t be so happy to see me.”
“Can you blame me?” I say, not looking at him.
“No, but can you blame me for being agitated? I walk into my lake house and see a bunch of empty cups and food scattered all around, then when I walk upstairs, I’m greeted to noises of my brother fucking and what I thought was the radio glaring in the other guest room.”
“Fair enough,” I say, munching on a carrot, appearing unamused.
“I wasn’t trying to be a dick towards you; I just wasn't expecting all that.”
I got a whiff of his cologne as he dipped a carrot in the ranch dressing on my plate, and when I looked up at him, he was smiling. He didn’t look like Josh, so I wondered if they were stepbrothers or something. But then again, I didn’t look like any of my family members either, and we were immediate family.
“No, that’s understandable. I guess I was agitated as well, hearing Josh get his jollies off all morning, on top of being hungry and hungover. An awful combo for a first impression.” I tell him
He laughs, and dimples form in the crevices of his cheeks, reminding me of Blake, and I can’t help but stare at him. Josh’s brother was hot.
Wait, no, he’s a douche. You are just deprived of having physical touch since your ex drove you to fuck your vibrator instead.
“That’s understandable, too.” His gaze feels intense as we stare each other down.
For some reason, he makes me feel like I’ve met him before or know him from somewhere. I can’t help but pull my eyes away from him. He looks over at his shoulder, wondering what I’m looking at, and when he realizes it’s him, he draws his attention back to me.
Breaking the awkwardness, I say, “Abigail,” and hold my hand out to him. He looks at my hand and then back at me, a slight curl forming at the end of his lips.
“Colt.”
My eyes go wide at hearing the sound of his name again.
There's no way. Could it be? No, it's not possible. There are plenty of guys named Colt in the south. Besides, he’s in real estate. He wasn't a football player. But then again, how did he know Troy, who was an NFL player?
You’re just overreacting, Abigail. It’s not him.
“You…okay?” he asks as I continue to shake his hand, taken away by my thoughts. I pull my hand away, resuming my position on the kitchen counter.
“I’ll ask again, why aren’t you in there taking pictures?”
I scoffed out a laugh. “Not my thing.”
“Not your thing?” He raises an eyebrow at me. “Isn’t that every girl's thing?”
“Not this one,” I say, stirring my ranch dressing around with a carrot.
“Why?” He says, and I can hear the smile behind his tone.
“I’m glad I’m amusing you, but if you must know, it’s because I hate how I look in photos.”
“Oh, stop.” He waves a hand at me as if I’m being ridiculous.
“I’m serious.”
“So you have no photos you like of yourself?”
“Nope, nor do I take them or am I in them,” I say with a condescending smile.
“I doubt that.” Before I can blink, he snatches my phone from the island and hits a button, and I know he’s opening my photo gallery.
“Hey, give that back,” I demanded.
“You’re a girl I’m sure you have plenty of photos in here.”
“Give me my phone back, now.” I try to reach for it, but he’s significantly taller than me, so all he has to do is hold up his arm. He continues to scroll as I struggle to get the phone out of his grip.
“I bet there is one photo in here you are proud of.”
“Colt, that’s my phone; give it back, geese.” I continue to jump, trying to reach for it when I see his face
Oh shit, the selfie I took last night of myself.
He lowered his arm just enough for me to snatch it out of his hand. “What’s wrong with you?” I say, beyond agitated now.
“You can’t just take someone's phone and start going through all their pictures. That’s an invasion of privacy.”
A wide grin spreads across his face
“Maybe, but guess I was right. There is a part of your body you do like taking pictures of after all.”
I roll my eyes. “I was drunk and being dumb. I just broke up with my ex, and believe me, I regret ever taking that.”
“I don’t.” He says with a sexy smirk. God, he’s gorgeous. Why does he have to be so fucking cute?
“Ugh, you’re such a guy,” I say, playing off the butterflies floating around in my stomach.
“Thank you.”
“Babe, are you coming to take a photo with us? Troy and Austin are waiting. We are doing one with the boys,” Namoi says, and I realize. He’s here because of my cousin.
I should have known.
“Ya babe, better get in there,” I mock.
“Colt Bolt, Colt Bolt, I hear Troy and the other guy chant. And my heart drops. Colt Bolt, that’s the nickname Blake said they gave his brother because he was so fast.
Irritation hits me, and I find myself extremely annoyed at Naomi's request. At the same time, realization hits.
That’s no doubt, Blake’s brother
I grab my phone and head to my car to be away from everyone when a text pops up on my phone.
Jared: Hey babe, it’s been a while. I am craving that sweet pussy in my mouth. And yours around my hard ock.