Chapter 8
Beyond my closed eyelids, I couldn’t move, as though I was weighed down and trapped, like when Johnny used to bury me in sand at the beach so only my face and my toes stuck out.
I’d arrived at the hotel in the early hours and had been checked into the hotel by a half-asleep teenager called Hugo who seemed to have been revising for exams. He lugged my bags upstairs, asked me if I needed anything, and I think I must have just literally fallen into bed and a Rip Van Winkle slumber from which I was now groggily emerging.
Finally, the jigsaw of the past few days began slotting into place.
Boston. Mil. Our engagement. Bloomingdale’s.
The plane. The rain. Ireland. I felt awful again.
I should have stayed and faced it all. I’d been too rash, too hasty, and now I was here, with no one to talk to, nothing to do, except stare down the chasm of my empty life.
I felt around on the nightstand for my phone and, to my relief, found it clinging on to life at nine per cent.
Was I also on about nine per cent? Perhaps I could just stay here in bed for a few days?
I hadn’t even told Milhouse I’d left, embarrassed and ashamed at having accosted him at his office, and even though he was the one who should be feeling bad, his confidence that he’d done nothing wrong meant that I was facing a decision: either accept him for who he was or walk away.
There were a couple of texts. One from Johnny telling me he hoped I had a good vacation – ‘Finally! You are taking time off and away from Mr F. My hope springeth eternal’ – and one from Tara wondering if I’d arrived safely.
I answered them all, texted Granny Annie to tell her I was in Ireland and then I texted Milhouse.
I’ve gone on vacation for a few days. Will call you when I come back xxx
If only he would apologise and promise he didn’t want to have affairs and that he knew I was hurt. We could marry and Mom would have the wedding of her dreams and I would have the distraction I was craving.
Propping myself up on the soft pillows, I looked around at my surroundings.
It was a spacious room, with two large windows with heavy cream curtains, and beautiful light oak panelling halfway up the walls.
The rest of the room was painted a bright white and everything was plain and simple.
With white bedding and a pale blue blanket draped across the bottom, it was practically monastic.
But perhaps a monastery life was what I needed to soothe my broken-ish soul?
But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I’d come too far, to a strange country and continent, and I was missing Boston.
Back at home, I would be in the office, tethered to an identity.
And then Milhouse called.
My heart was beating hard. What was he going to say? Was this when he apologised, having slept on it all, and would beg my forgiveness? Maybe he would offer me some romance, some love?
‘Why are you texting in the middle of the night?’ he said, as soon as I picked up.
‘Why are you still up?’
‘I’ve been out. Just back.’
He didn’t like being questioned on where he’d been, and so usually I never asked.
‘Why didn’t you tell me you were going away?’ he continued.
‘It was very last minute. Tara booked me a flight.’
‘A flight? Where are you? I thought you’d be at the beach house.’
‘Ireland.’
‘Ireland?’ He laughed. ‘Seems a bit dramatic?’
‘Well, I just wanted a break.’
‘I thought you were less flighty than that. More pragmatic.’
‘Oh, I didn’t come here because of you and me,’ I said breezily. ‘I came here to… you know… find out a little about my Irish roots. It’s a favour for Granny Annie.’
‘And you’re meeting with anthropologists, are you?’
He meant ‘genealogists’, but I didn’t correct him. ‘Yeah, that kind of thing.’
I waited for him to begin his apology. He sucked in some air. Here we go.
‘Kerry-Anne…?’
‘Yes?’
‘I wanted to talk about something…’
‘Right…’ Thank God. He was about to apologise.
‘Us getting married.’
‘So we are still doing it?’
‘Didn’t we agree to it?’ He sounded slightly irritated. ‘I don’t recall us saying we weren’t getting married.’
At least that was something.
He continued, ‘But I just wanted to sort a few things. Ground rules, et cetera.’
‘Ground rules?’
‘Yup. I just think that we need to be upfront… so no surprises down the line.’ He laughed. ‘Now, I don’t want a big wedding. No hundreds of friends of our parents, that kind of thing. Something small and quick.’
I thought of Mom and how disappointed she would be. I wanted to give her a big wedding, but it seemed it would be impossible. I tried to sound relaxed and happy. ‘Las Vegas?’ I suggested, with a laugh in my voice. ‘That would fulfil your criteria.’
Milhouse pressed on. ‘And children. At least two. Preferably three. So we would need to get going.’
‘Such honeyed words, Mil. Do you use them on all the women in your life?’
He was silent for a moment and then emitted a strange sound, a rasp of irritation. I could see him now, rolling his eyes and puckering his lips in that way he did when he was displeased with me. ‘Sarcastic as usual.’
‘No, no, please go on. It’s just my jet lag, it presents itself as sarcasm. I need to take anti-sarcasm pills.’
‘Right.’ He sounded unimpressed. ‘I’m just trying to have a sensible conversation.’
‘I know. And it’s important.’ I tried to focus.
‘And another thing…’
‘Another rule, Mil? How many more? Should I take notes?’
‘Kerry-Anne…’ he warned.
‘Go on.’
‘I want you to take my name. It’s important to me.’
‘Your name?’
‘Of course.’
For a moment, I was confused. ‘Milhouse?’
‘Of course not Milhouse. Bartlett.’
‘Kerry-Anne Daly-Bartlett?’
‘I’d prefer Kerry-Anne Bartlett.’
It was a firm no from me. ‘I’m not sure about that one.’
‘It’s kind of a deal-breaker. And another rule…’
‘Wow. There’s a lot of them.’
‘I’m not into the whole cohabitation thing.’
‘You mean… not live together? But if we crack on and get going and all that, we could have three whole children?’
‘Exactly. So there’ll be a house for you and the children and I’ll be there as much as possible.
But I’m going to be keeping my apartment.
I need it. A place to go. Decompress, relax, watch sports, have friends over.
I need to retain my lifestyle, the part that is not compatible with family life.
’ He gave a small laugh. ‘I’m just being upfront and honest with you, Kerry-Anne.
The men in my family all have secret lives, away from their wives and kids.
Off they go on fake business trips or weekends away and they are back in their old apartments doing guy things. ’
‘Right. It’s a lot to take in.’
‘I know, I am just being honest with you and isn’t that what makes a great marriage? Honesty? And we’re good together. Of course, you can have your own interests and hobbies as well. You know, your foundation…’
‘My foundation is my business.’
‘Of course it is, of course. But think over what I’ve said and when you’re back in Boston, we can announce it to everyone. Put a piece in the Globe, go public. I met your dad earlier and he had no idea. You hadn’t told him, but he seemed very pleased.’
‘Had he been drinking?’
‘No.’ He paused, sounding irritated again.
‘Sorry.’
‘Look, I’ll talk to you tomorrow. When you’re less sarcastic. Now, you know I love you, K. You’re funny and all that. But you don’t have to try to be all the time. Just some of the time and when it’s appropriate. My mother thinks you talk too much.’
‘Really? I thought she liked me.’
‘She likes you when you aren’t talking. It interferes with her television watching. You talked throughout The Megyn Kelly Show last time you were at home.’
I was tired, suddenly, as well as completely and utterly powerless. ‘I’ve got to go and have breakfast. I haven’t eaten for hours and hours. But I’ll think about your stipulations and give you a call sometime.’
‘Suits me.’
‘And thanks for being so clear. I appreciate it.’
He paused. ‘Are you being sarcastic again?’
‘No, not at all. Thank you, Mil, speak soon.’
I put the phone down. Could I accept all the stipulations, the living apart, the changing my name, the non-pocketness of our relationship?
I shuffled to the edge of the bed and put my feet onto the cream carpeted floor.
Hello, Ireland, I thought, will you look after me for a few days, help me make the right decision?
And I was suddenly glad to be far away from Boston, away from Milhouse, even away from the Kerry-Anne who had no backbone or self-respect. Here, perhaps I would regain them.