Silence.
Yes, I was still angry and hurt. I played nice at Nicki’s wedding because it was Nicki’s wedding, but I avoided my mother at all costs. She’d called dozens of times after that disastrous dinner and even popped by unannounced last weekend. I hid in the storage shed. I know it’s immature, but I couldn’t face her. I couldn’t let her see how her words affected me: “Don’t expect too much.” They played in a continuous loop in my brain, taunting me, making me double my efforts to be the perfect live-in fiancée. Reece noticed.
“What are you doing?” he asked one morning when I brought him breakfast in bed.
“I thought you might like this,” I replied, straddling the breakfast tray over his lap. It was filled with all his favorites: scrambled eggs with cheese, bacon, hash browns, toast, coffee and freshly squeezed orange juice.
His eyes went wide. “What the hell did I do to deserve this?” He looked at me and frowned. “I never pulled those weeds yesterday like you asked me to,” he confessed.
I shrugged. “Who cares?” I leaned over and kissed his stubbled cheek.
“Huh?” was his only reply.
Days later an odd cold front pushed through town, and we were forced into our flannel pajamas earlier than expected. I brought Reece his slippers and a mug of hot chocolate dressed with whipped cream and dark chocolate shavings as he lay sprawled on the couch.
“What is all this?” he asked.
“I thought your feet might be cold,” I replied. “And I thought you might wanna warm up with something hot.”
“Thank you?”
Yesterday I packed his lunch for work. I never pack his lunch. Half the time he runs down to Chick-fil-A for a sandwich and fries.
“Okay, that’s it!” he said, holding up the brown bag.
“What?” I replied. “I thought I’d pack you—”
“I know what you thought. You thought you’d bring me breakfast in bed even though you abhor food of any kind near our comforter. You thought you’d make me hot chocolate and bring me my slippers even though you don’t drink hot chocolate—”
I opened my mouth to protest.
“I know you made a special trip to the store for that hot chocolate. Don’t lie,” Reece said.
I closed my mouth.
“Now you’re packing my lunch?”
“Can’t I do sweet things for you?” I asked.
“Bailey, of course you can, but I’m not a moron. I know the motivation behind all of this,” he said.
“What do you mean?”
“Oh, come off it already. You know exactly what I mean. ‘Don’t expect too much?’” he quoted.
I winced.
“Your mother said a shitty thing,” he said softly. “So shitty. The shittiest, really. But I don’t want that changing who you are. I don’t want you bending over backward because you think you have to.”
I sighed and wrapped the bread.
“Listen to me. When I said I expect a lot from you because I know you have a lot to give, I didn’t mean that I expect you to wait on me hand and foot and act like my slave,” Reece said.
The side of my mouth quirked up. “But I thought you liked when I acted like your slave.”
“In bed? Yes. In life? No.”
I giggled.
“I love you just the way you are. Stop trying to prove something to me. And for Christ’s sake, don’t let your mother have that kind of power over you. It was a shitty statement, yes. But it was one statement, Bailey. One. Four stupid words. Don’t let those words define you. You’re better than that.” He plopped the lunch bag on the counter and pulled me close. “You’re stronger than that.”
I came to at the sound of my mother’s plea.
“Bailey, please,” she said. “I know I said a terrible thing. I was angry. It’s no excuse, but I was angry and hurt. I wasn’t expecting Reece to ask me for advice. I was taken off guard.”
“Mom, it’s fine,” I said automatically.
“No!” she cried. “It’s not fine. I love you very much, and I expect great things from you, Bailey.”
I wasn’t sure what kind of “great” things she expected. I knew now what Reece expected, but I didn’t think the two were the same.
“Mom, I may just be a proofreader for the rest of my life and surf and marry Reece. That may be it.”
“And that’s perfect,” she said.
I rolled my eyes.
“Bailey?”
“Hmm?”
“I worry about you,” she said quietly.
I stiffened. “Why?”
“Because I want you to be happy, honey.”
“I am happy,” I said defensively, looking down at my engagement ring. “I’m very happy with Reece.”
“Good. I really do like Reece,” she said.
I wanted to tell her that I didn’t give a shit if she liked him or not. But she was trying. I guess, anyway.
I said nothing.
“Bailey?”
“Hmm?”
“When will you two come over for dinner again?”
I snorted. And then I coughed to try to cover it up.
“Soon, Mom.”
“Your father misses you,” she said.
Mom knew she could always use Dad to reel me in. All she had to say was that he missed me, and I’d drop everything and be at their house in ten minutes. Why couldn’t she just say she missed me? My only explanation is that she felt that wouldn’t be a good enough reason for me to visit. Somewhere along the way, my relationship with Mom fell apart completely. I wasn’t sure if it was deserving of repair.
“Your father misses you,” she repeated. She wanted to drive it home.
“I’ll come visit soon,” I replied. “But I have to go now, Mom.”
“Okay.” She sounded defeated. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” I replied, and hung up.
I’ll be over soon, I thought bitterly. But don’t expect too much.
I sprayed the mosquito repellent again, and Dad waved his hand in front of his face.
“Take it easy,” he said.
I ignored him and looked out onto the still early morning lake water. I usually didn’t visit my parents at this hour, and I’d only fished early with Dad a handful of times, but something compelled me to go to him today.