Another holiday was fast approaching, and yet again, we were not going to be able to spend it together. His stupid divorce was ruining my ability to show him off to my friends and family. But I was trying to be chill about it, after all, our story was not going to be the same as Beck and Errol’s, or even my parents. Slow and steady for the win, I supposed.
Thanksgiving was not a huge ordeal for my family, since we were pretty small. It usually just consisted of me, my parents, a couple of aunts and uncles, and only one cousin, who was nearly ten years older in age. She and I got along great now that we were older, but we just didn’t have a lot in common.
We spent at least three or four days each week together since the Halloween party. Our conversations got deeper and deeper, and we were learning so much more about each other. At times I felt like I knew him better than anyone else in the world, more so than his wife ever even did.
Ex-wife, Eve. His EX-wife.
I often had to correct my own thinking since this was a situation that I never imagined myself being in. I was ecstatic to finally be able to announce our relationship when their divorce was final.
“Hello there, handsome.” I answered my phone on only the second ring, so happy to hear from him. All I heard was some ruckus and heated voices on the other end of the receiver.
“Hello? Can you hear me? Babe?” Still nothing more than voices that continued to get louder and louder. I decided to stay silent and just listen.
The mustered-up anger that nearly vibrated my earpiece shattered my ability to just simply hit the red “hang up” icon on the phone. Something was going on at the other end, and I was determined to find out just what.
Is he in danger? I thought he was with his family.
The volume of the woman’s voice hit a decibel that rocked me to my core. Who was that, and why was she so upset with him? I stepped outside to listen from my right ear even closer, with my first finger even plugging my left ear.
Just as I heard him shout a name in a voice that almost didn’t even sound like him, I heard an outburst high pitched cry that made my head and neck rock backwards in shock.
Hang up, Eve. Hang up and just call him back and ask what is going on.
No.
The devil and the angel were having a serious conflict inside my head as I debated what to do, without really thinking that hanging up was even an option. So really it was the devil dressed as an angel and the devil himself fighting. No choice was going to be a good one, period.
It sounded like something I would never hear from his own mouth, so I had to listen in order to know.
Is this a true butt dial, or a butt dial on purpose, as if he wants me to hear what the hell is going on?
Everything started to feel really weird for me, and the butterflies I had in my stomach started to feel much more like knots. I kept listening.
“You fucking bitch, Hailey, drop them!” My heart sank deep into my chest as I heard his voice shout the words.
I heard more scuffling for a little longer than a minute, before another ear-piercing shriek from the girl’s voice, followed by another set of demands from him, “DROP THEM!”
Drop what?
What sounded like World War III continued in my ear as I studied the encounter for another minute or so before I finally slowly extended my phone out to look at the ass-dial-call in place. It had been two minutes and forty-two seconds since I answered.
I reluctantly pressed the red ‘X’ and hung up.
A lot had happened during those three-or-so minutes, and my mind wandered to the worst imaginable places. But I just needed to talk to him to find out what happened. Surely, he would have an explanation.
I stood there, staring off into the distance, which was only about as far as twenty feet before it ended at a wooden fence, confused as shit. Plenty of ‘what if’ possible scenarios ran through my mind.
I had to pull myself together, since my family had been asking about this guy – thanks to a couple of friends who were nearly like children to my parents, too, and had clued them in on my secret romance.
Before I could even begin to take a deep breath and calm myself down or tell myself that this was probably just some misunderstanding, I heard Marco’s voice from the driveway.
“Hey stranger!”
Shit.
My parents invited Marco to Thanksgiving? Damnit. I hadn’t seen him in about three months, hence his hint that I had become a stranger.
I didn’t care that Marco was going to be there, but after what I’d just heard from my new boyfriend, I wondered if hewould be okay with it. I had only told him about Marco as my last semi-serious relationship, I never hinted that he and I were still friends. I just said it ended amicably.
Marco and I never had to keep our relationship a secret. He and I were friends before we ever dated, which is likely why it was so easy for us to be friends after.
In an unintentionally less than thrilled tone, I greeted him.
“Hey there.”
“What’s wrong?”
“No, no, I’m good. I just, uh, sorry. Had a weird voicemail come through just now.” I totally fucking lied.
“Ah, well give me a hug!” He insisted.
I half-assedly leaned into his body, feeling almost guilty for giving an embrace to my ex without my new boyfriend knowing. But, it was purely platonic, and we both knew it.
“Mom invited you? That’s cool, glad you are here.” My mom was such a socialite, she invited all of my friends to join us for dinner all the time. But Marco was my ex, and we’d broken up just short of a year ago, so I didn’t realize they had stayed in touch, much less that he would be a guest to a holiday dinner.
I brushed off the voyeur style one sided un-conversation and walked Marco into the house to announce his arrival. My dad instantly took him into his arms with a hug and asked him if he wanted a beer.
This is awkward. Or is it?
I mean, shit, they’d always gotten along really well. My dad loved pretty much everyone and anyone who would have a beer with him and listen to his repetitive jokes.
He always had the same jokes to tell over and over, that everyone listened to, so many times it felt kind of annoying.
We walked up the four steps to the deck to enter into the house together, entering the farmhouse style kitchen. Whiffs of hot turkey and fresh apple pie filled the air as we cut through to the dining room table to seat ourselves.
There was an odd silence. Perhaps because my dad wasn’t in the room loudly humoring us all, or perhaps because Marco knew my bullshit so well and he was uncomfortable to talk about it. He had an intuition.
He should have warned me.
