My Real (21 page)

Tell me … when will they win 

2008 seems like so long ago

I wish that we could make 

The playoffs … once again

I lie and say I that love baseball

Can’t find a better team

I have such hope in March and April

But that bubble bursts by July

That bubble bursts by July …

Great! it’s Eagles season again

Another chance to get my hopes up

No Andy Reid

Lead us Chip Kelly

I pretend that we will make the Super Bowl again

“That was pretty good for your first try. But, who are Andy Reid and Chip Kelly?”

Andrew’s jaw drops. “How can you be from this area and not know who they are? They were just all over the news.”

I just shrug.

“Andy Reid was the head coach of the Eagles until they fired him and hired Chip Kelly. Please tell me you’ve been to a Phillies or an Eagles game.”

I just shake my head. “It’s decided, you are going to a Phillies game before the season is over!” Andrew declares.

We pull into a parking lot; Andrew gets out of the car and comes around to open my door. “Now, let’s get moving. I want to get to the top of the falls by lunch time.”

I look up at the trail and then back at him with doubt in my eyes. The man is out of his mind. He reaches for my hand and starts to pull me toward the trail. It’s really beautiful out here. My parents came here a couple of times before they got divorced, but I avoided it at all costs.

We were only a few minutes into the walk when I miss a step and stumble to the ground. Not only do I fall down, I slip off the path and start rolling down a little muddy embankment. I’m now covered in mud.

Andrew starts down the hill to help me, laughing with me the whole way. Then, he slips and lands in the mud next to me. He quickly recovers and tries to help me up. As he tugs on my arm to pull me up, my foot slips again, and I roll over him. We both roll further down the hill.

I look up to see Andrew’s face completely covered in mud. I start giggling as the mud rolls down his face. We are soon both laughing so hard that there are tears streaming out of our eyes.

“I told you I wasn’t going to make it out of here unscathed,” I laugh through the tears.

“I better up my home owner’s insurance if you decide to move in with me,” Andrew states.

I pause at his comment, and he stops laughing. I stand up and dust the mud off. I start up the hill myself, leaving him in the mud.

If. Why did he say ‘if?’

Andrew is quiet for the rest of the walk up to the top of the falls. I’m not sure that we’ve said more than two sentences to each other the whole time. I’m starting to get nervous over his sudden mood swing.

When we get to the top, Andrew starts unpacking his backpack and setting up for lunch. He helps me wash the mud off my face with some of the bottled water then I wash his face. I look over at him and can tell he has something on his mind.

“Spill it Andrew.”

He look at me surprised. “How do you know I have something to spill?”

“You are rubbing your forehead. You only do that when your brain is working too hard.”

Andrew stands there for what seems like hours without saying a word. All of a sudden he blurts out. “Are you sure you want to move in with me?”

“Are you taking back your offer?” I ask sadly. I was so excited last night at the possibility of moving in with Andrew and Emerson. Was I too excited to realize it’s not what he really wants? Why did he ask me if it’s not what he wanted?

He reaches up and takes my face between his hands and sweetly kisses my forehead then places his forehead on mine. He takes a deep breath.

“There is nothing I want more than for you to move in, so we can start our lives together. It’s just that you answered so quickly last night. I wasn’t sure if you were having second thoughts now that you had a chance to think about it.”

“I am thrilled you asked me. As a matter of fact, the entire way up here, I have been thinking about paint colors.”

“Paint colors? What are you painting?” he questions.

“Andrew, every room in your house is white.”

“Yes, there is a good reason for that. I hate to paint, and I can’t match colors at all.”

“Well, I knew that from the beginning,” I inform him.

“What do you mean you knew that?”

“Andrew, Emerson has not had a matching set of clothing on since I met her. It’s a good thing you have me.”

“I do have you, and I’m not letting you go.” He puts his arms around me and holds me tight.

We take a seat on the blanket and start eating lunch.

“So what other plans do you have for my house besides painting?”

I blush because I do have a whole list of things I’d love to do. It’s such a bachelor pad now, I want to make it a home. “Well, first I need one of those tubs,” I joke.

“Most definitely. What else?”

“Just little things, I’d love to change Emerson’s room around, so she has an art center. She really needs a play set in the back yard.” I have so many more ideas but I’ll keep most of them a secret for now.

“That’s all?” When I nod he continues. “I thought there would be a much longer list.”

After we finish packing up our things from lunch, Andrew pulls my arm to help me stand. We start walking around the top to the trail.

“Hey, how has drop off and pick up with Jessica been lately? You haven’t said much about her lately.”

“Actually, really good. She has almost been civil to me,” Andrew replies.

“Almost civil, what’s that mean?”

“Well, let’s put it this way. She isn’t being a complete bitch anymore. Emerson seems to be having fun while she’s with Jessica, so that’s a good thing.”

“Emerson did say something the other day about going to the movies with her mom. She was really excited. Why do you think she did a complete one eighty?” I asked kicking a rock on the trail.

“I’m not sure but it makes me kind of nervous.”

“What do you mean?” We walk up to a rock that overlooked the valley below. Andrew pauses taking in the view before answering.

“She’s not a nice person. She is acting nicer toward me now than she did when we were married. I feel like she has something up her sleeve,” Andrew replies.

“I don’t understand. She wasn’t like that in college. What happened?” I ask. I don’t understand what happened to the girl who used to take me out to the bars looking for cute guys and trying to make me talk to them. Well, she would end up leaving me in those bars alone most nights so she could go home with a guy she’d just met.

“Bailey, that’s exactly how she was in college. You just mistook her bitchiness for confidence.” Andrew explains trying to get me to see what I had missed all those years.

Was I really that blind? Did I really not see this in college? “That makes sense but then why did you marry her?” I ask, still trying to figure out why he would marry her if he knew what kind of person she was.

“I’ve thought about this a lot over the past few years. We started out great. I did love her to some extent, and we had our good times. When things started breaking down between us, it was just easier to let her win all the fights. Then it was easier to just go with it than to start a fight at all,” Andrew says, running his hands though his hair.

“I never had to make a decision or come up with my own ideas because no matter what I felt or thought, we were going to do what Jessica wanted to do,” he confesses.

He is absolutely right. Jessica used to be like that with me. Whatever she wanted, she got. Every time. It was easy to be her friend, because if I followed what she was doing, she was happy.

Andrew lies back flat against the rock and puts his hands above his head. When I don’t lie down next to him, he pulls my shoulder down to lie next to him.

Andrew starts playing with my hair and continues. “That’s why I think I stayed married to her for so long,” he admits. Looking remorseful he says, “Honestly, it wasn’t a real marriage. There was no real love. No real respect between us. I referred to it as my fake marriage on more than one occasion. It wasn’t real.”

Andrew pops up on one elbow and faces me. He looks at me, staring at me intently as his eyes soften and a smile overtakes his face. “What we have is real. Everything about us is real. There are no secrets, no competition, no winners or losers, just us,” he says warming my heart, saying aloud what I’ve quietly believed for so long. “I can be myself around you, share my thoughts and wishes with you and I know that you are really listening and that you care. With us, there is real mutual respect, overwhelming love, and truth. A real love. You are my real.” He pulls my hand up and kisses my palm. Andrew is right; there is nothing fake or contrived with us. Real. Real, raw, honest love.

Speechless. The man has rendered me speechless. Only, I do have something to say. Something I’ve only said to one other man in my life, and I now know that every time I’ve said it before it was a lie. Andrew has said it to me, but I’ve yet to reciprocate.

“I love you,” I whisper. I’m afraid this is all a dream, and I will soon wake up. “I do Andrew. I love you more than I can even begin to explain. I’ve never been good with sharing my feelings.” I explain as he brushes my hair away from my face. “When I was young, we didn’t share our feelings. I learned early on to lock my heart up tight and to not give it to anyone, because I always ended up hurt. It happened with my dad, my friends, and Dave.”

“You don’t need to do that any longer, Bailey. I promise you, your heart is safe with me. We have mended each other’s broken hearts.”

Andrew leans in for the sweetest, most romantic kiss. The kiss gets heated rather quickly, and he has to pull away when we hear hikers coming up the trail behind us. I grumble at the interruption.

“Were you thinking of some outdoor fun again?” he asks.

“Yes.” I pout.

“My my, you have turned into quite the naughty girl haven’t you,” he jokes.

“I like to think of it as adventurous, not naughty,” I clarify.

“Okay my adventurous girl, let’s climb back down this mountain.”

I groan again. “That is not the adventure I was hoping for.”

The trip down the trail is much less adventurous than the trip up. Thank goodness. We get back in enough time to take a quick shower, together, get dressed, and leave for our dinner reservations.

“You’re not going to ask me about dinner?” Andrew asks when we are in the car for a few minutes.

“You told me no questions. I’m trying to behave,” I reply.

“I’m impressed. Although, you don’t need to behave all night,” he says with a wink.

“Oh, I have plans for you tonight. You made a wise choice letting Ella pack my overnight bag.”

“Thank you, Ella. How did you know she packed your clothes?”

“You’ll see.” I wink back at him.

All I can think about is what might be packed away in her suitcase. I had all of her bathroom things packed but couldn’t get her clothes packed, without her questioning it. I texted a list of activities to Ella and asked for her help.

I’ll have to remember to thank her. We pull up to the restaurant. I am so excited to take Bailey here. When I was looking for places online, this place came up in my search, and I knew right away she’d love it.

I walk around and open the door for Bailey. Ella did a great job picking this outfit. She has on a tight knee length black skirt and a glittery tank top. She also has on thigh high black boots that are the dream of every red blooded American man. Bailey was mad because she had no choice but to wear the heels. Ella only packed the heels and sneakers. But Bailey is doing great so far. She’s only tripped twice so far.

“I’ve always wanted to go to a hibachi restaurant,” Bailey admits.

“I aim to please,” I say as I grab her hand.

“It would please me if you stayed away from the teriyaki sauce tonight. I happen to love this top,” she says as she rubbed her hand down the front of her shirt with a frown.

I stop and my jaw drops. She giggles and pulls me into the restaurant.

“Only you would bring up something that happened almost fifteen years ago and it wasn’t even my fault,” I argue.

We sit at the hibachi with a large family. After taking our order, the waiter comes out with a bowl of miso soup and a salad. Bailey immediately hands the salad to me.

“You still have an aversion to vegetables.” I laugh, remembering the first time I saw her. “How can someone as healthy as you not eat vegetables?”

“I don’t like them. My mom used to make me eat everything on my plate if I liked it or not,” the smile falls from her face. “I would sit at that kitchen table for hours refusing to eat them. It became a battle of wills. I decided then that when I grew up I was not going to eat food that I didn’t like. Eating all my dinner was nothing compared to some of the other fights we would get into.”

“You really didn’t get along with your mom did you?” I pry.

“Not at all,” she says shaking her head.