“How about seven?”
“Perfect.”
I continued stirring the meatballs, and my thoughts moved to Jaime. Checking my watch, I did the calculations in my head. It was ten at night over there. I clicked on my computer and signed into AOL Instant Messenger. His username said he was away, but he was always away. Instant Messenger wasn’t nearly as popular in Ireland, and he never got back to me in a timely manner. I sent him a quick hello and returned to the stove.
Jaime and I emailed back and forth a few times a week. I realized the day after my flight landed that things would be different. I had emailed him twice with no response and nightmares of Scott had flashed through my mind. I had felt my walls start to build back up, cursing myself for thinking that what I had with Jaime would be different. But then he called me that night and we talked for about ten minutes before he had to go. It wasn’t that we didn’t want to stay in touch, it was more that the time change never matched up to our schedules and international calls were expensive.
Living with my parents, I had to be respectful of the time. I hadn’t navigated their existence since high school and I felt like a guest, unable to walk around in my pajamas or eat snacks at midnight. I didn’t want to upset the apple cart, and for all I knew, the cart had already lost its wheels. My dad ‘worked’ a lot, and my mother locked herself in her bedroom whenever she was home. I decided the best thing to do was stick to my studies so I could return to Boston and finish my degree.
About twenty minutes later, my mom strolled in with two bags of groceries in her arms. “Rory, help please.”
I trudged to the car, grabbing bags and unpacking them in the kitchen. “Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes,” I reported. “After dinner, I’m meeting Jenny to study for my exam.”
We ate in silence. The only sounds penetrating my eardrums were the tick of the clock and the hum of the refrigerator.
“Hey mom?” I said, my pulse quickening.
“Yes?” Her big brown eyes looked hollow against her thin face.
“Why didn’t you kick dad out? After everything he did to you?”
She dropped her fork on her plate and folded her hands, resting them under her chin. “Why do you ask?”
My inner voice created a monologue of reasons but all I could squeak out was, “You didn’t deserve that and you didn’t have to live like that.”
She cleared her throat. “Like what?”
Annoyed by the game of Cat and Mouse we were playing, I said, “Come on, Mom. He’s been cheating on you my whole life. You’ve wasted over a decade of your life by staying with him. I’d rather get divorced than live a lie. Not to mention how fucked up I am because of the example you two set. Don’t you think your life would have been better if you divorced him?”
She jumped to her feet and threw her napkin on her plate. “I will not have you speak to me that way.” Redness now highlighted her pale cheeks. “You are living in this house, and I demand some respect.”
I cackled under the controversial conversation. “Respect? What’s that? You’ve allowed him to walk all over you while you’ve suffered for his choices. It’s bullshit, Mom. This is not love. This is some fucked up version of keeping up with the Joneses.”
She stormed out of the room and I picked up our plates, sighing as I dropped them into the sink. Grabbing my backpack, I left the house without saying good-bye.
Jenny was already waiting, sitting at a table facing the window with her textbook open.
“Hi.” I pushed down the aggravation my mother had caused and sat across from Jenny.
“I got you a scone and a cup of tea. I thought it’d be a comforting reminder of Ireland.”
Thanking her, I envisioned myself in Deirdre’s kitchen, and felt my tense muscles stretch. Jenny wanted to study in Ireland and had been peppering me with questions about my trip ever since we met a few weeks ago.
“Thanks, this is great.” I blew on the steaming liquid, taking a sip. “It doesn’t taste nearly as good as the cups I had with Jaime.”
“Have you talked to him? How’s he doing?”
I had confided a little about Jaime, telling Jenny about how we had met and how we ended up together. Marty and Scott were embedded in our story, so I had shared the Thanksgiving debacle, as well. “Um, I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him in about a week. I feel like the universe doesn’t want us to be a thing. The time change, classes, life. It isn’t working out the way I hoped.”
“Have you talked to Marty? Or Scott?”
“No. The last time I talked to Marty was when I told her I wasn’t moving in and she accused me of sabotaging her life.” Like she sabotaged mine.
“Did you move back home because you didn’t want to live with her?”
“She was part of it, but not all. That trip to Ireland was like a dream, right? I had escaped from my life and found myself over there. It felt too soon to fall back into my old life, and I needed time to figure out who I am now. Does that make sense?”
Jenny nodded. “Totally.”
