Page 59 of That Wedding (That Boy 2)
"Hey," he says back.
"What did you want?"
"What do I want?"
"Yeah, why did you call me?"
"Because you just QUIT on me?!!"
"Yes, Phillip, I quit, and I'm on my way back to your office to get my drawings, so I can give them to your dad. Then you can all move on and hire someone who has talent."
"Jadyn, you have talent."
"I know that I do, but you don't!" I say as I walk in the office, grab my papers out of his hands, and leave.
He follows me down the hall.
"You need to stop and listen to me."
"No, thanks. I've heard enough." I try not to, but when I look at Phillip, I get tears in my eyes because, honestly, what Phillip did hurt.
I was willing to overlook all the warning signs. I was willing to believe it was just cold feet, that it didn't mean anything, but this, I can't overlook. I totally anticipated, foresaw, and predicted the BOOM, but I didn't really expect it to happen so soon.
Or in this way.
I walk into his dad's office and shut the door in Phillip's face.
Of course, he's stubborn, opens the door, and walks in like he owns the freaking place.
"Phillip," his dad says, "I would like to speak with JJ privately."
"Daddd," Phillip says with pleading in his voice, kinda like he used to when he was younger and wanted to do something that his dad didn't think was a good idea.
"I'll come talk to you when JJ and I are through," he replies in the tone dads get when you better not argue.
Phillip looks at me. He looks mad at me.
My eyes are kinda full of tears. I swallow, put on my game face, and turn to face Mr. Mac.
Mr. Mac says to me gently, "So why do you want to quit? Did you and Phillip have a fight?"
"No, sir. I quit because I was hired under false pretenses."
"How so?"
"Well, I believe I was only hired because of Phillip, not because of my skills, my talent."
"And why would you think that?"
"Because I just showed Phillip a few of the ideas, and he was surprised they were good."
"And it upset you that he thought they were good?"
"No, I'm upset that he was surprised they're good. If you would have hired someone else, you would've looked at their portfolio, known what they were capable of, and would've been upset if their work wasn't good. I don't want a job like this. I know I haven't been working all that long, but at the job I left, at least I felt valued. I can't work like this."
And quite honestly, I'm pretty sure it's a deal breaker for the whole relationship.
But I don't say that. A few tears leak out of the corner of my eyes, but I quickly brush them away.
He gets a resigned look on his face and gets up. "Well, I disagree with you. You're right, Phillip is one of the reasons we hired you, but not the only reason."
He grabs a bunch of rolled up plans that were standing in the corner next to his credenza, takes them to his conference table, and unrolls them. "Come look at these. I've built this business from the ground floor up. It's been my dream to have a facility that's exactly how I want it."
I flip through them quickly and see that none of these plans look like Mr. Mac. I don't know if that makes sense because how could a building look like a person? But I suppose it's kinda like when you walk into someone's house, how they have it decorated, the colors that they've chosen, look like them.
Mr. Mac is sort of a style contradiction. He loves rich classic things. A bottle of good wine. A nice cigar. You could picture him sitting in an old library, surrounded by rich dark colors and lots of leather bound books. But at the same time, he's still young (I mean, for an old guy) and kinda hip. His clothes are expensive, but they always have a flair to them. He drives a luxury brand, but the model is a sleek black sports car.
I look at the drawings other people have done and can see why he hasn't built any of these buildings. They just aren't him.
"It looks like you spent a lot of money on plans. Why haven't you used any of these?"
"Why do you think?"
"Because they all suck," I say a little too bluntly.
"Exactly. That's one thing I love about you, JJ. You're just like your dad was. You always cut to the chase and tell us exactly what you're thinking. So why do you think they all suck?"
"Well, I probably shouldn't have said that. It's not really that they suck, they just, they don't look like you, like something you would like."
"And that's exactly why I haven't. I don't like any of them. It's frustrating to me because I have a vision of how I want it to be, but I can't explain it, evidently, because none of these are it."
"I can see that, like this one is way too modern for you. And this one they went the totally opposite direction and made it like too boring and stuffy."
"So can I see some of your ideas?"
I want to show him my favorite idea. The building I drew is modern, but it has architectural elements that are classic. The building that feels like my wedding dress. Timeless. I want to show him the pictures I sketched of the inside. The rich cherry wood walls that have insets of stainless steel that give it a sleek modern edge. The interior colors that are dark and rich, like a mens' club. The entry lounge with its oversized contemporary wingback chairs covered in a charcoal pinstripe velvet. The artwork that's modern with bright, rich colors. I had no idea if he would like it, but at the time, it felt right.
Just like things with Phillip used to feel right.
I can't stay here any longer. I'm going to cry. I lay my favorites on his table and run out the door. I run into our office. I need to compose myself before I go running out of the building like an idiot.
I lean my back against the closed door. When I open my eyes, I realize I'm not alone. Phillip's sitting at his desk.
"Princess, why did you quit? What's this really about? I saw our questionnaires in your bag. Is that why you're so upset?"
"You went through my bag?" That should piss me off, but I feel like I have no emotions. I feel empty because I know there's nothing else I can do.
"No, they were sitting on top, wadded up. I saw my handwriting."
I sigh, look at my adorable Phillip, and tell him the sad truth. "Phillip, we're not gonna make it. We failed couple's counseling. We handle our conflicts with sex. We don't agree on money. I'm sorry, but I totally tricked you into buying the house. I planted seeds, got Mr. Diamond to gift us the money, and I tricked you. I have a sucky past. There's baggage there that even you don't know about. I pout to get my way. I probably do have abandonment issues. And I read our questionnaires, Phillip. We don't agree on anything. And really, I probably could've gotten through that all. I could've pretended we were gonna be okay. But you didn't rescue me from the spider, I found out I was a pity hire, and we don't have a song." I take the ring off my finger and gently lay it on his desk. "I hope we can stay friends."
I run to my car, get in, and drive away.
I end up at our old elementary school. I sit in the car and stare at the swings.
I have that same sort of numb feeling I had after my parents died.
Probably because that's what just happened.
Our relationship died.
Could it be revived? Could they shock my heart? Will it ever work again? Or is it fatal, terminal?
It must have been fatal because I didn't let Phillip try to resuscitate us.
Really, I'm not even sure what all I'm thinking.
Maybe I should drive to Kansas City, talk to Lori. Have her hug me and tell me I'm going to be okay. Break out the chocolate ice cream. And wine. Large amounts of wine. Or margaritas.
Shit. Speaking of margaritas, I'm gonna have to return my shower gifts. Most of them I haven't unboxed yet, but I've already used the Margaritaville blender twice.
All of a sudden, the blender seems so important.
If I give it back, it will all be real.
I'm gonna say it now. I hate when people say this because it seems so depressing, but here it is. Fuck my life.
&n
bsp; Maybe it was just a matter of time.
Maybe I wasn't supposed to be happy.
It's like someone's played a cruel trick on me.
Give her a taste of real happiness, let her know what it feels like, and then snatch it all away.
Or maybe I'm an idiot, and he wasn't the right guy, wasn't the one. In that case, maybe I should be grateful that this all happened now, before we were married, before we had kids.
But it doesn't feel that way.
I mean the whole wedding, the venue, the way it fell into place. I really felt like it was a good sign, that I was finally, for once in my life, choosing the right path, the right guy, my prince, my happily ever after.
But I'm thinking fairy tales are bullshit right about now. They should really make fairytales more realistic.
Here's what I'm gonna do. I'll move to California and start a new life. I'll rewrite fairytales. I'll make a fairytale reality show. A behind the castle look at Cinderella and Prince Charming's lives. I think we'd all take wicked pleasure in seeing Cinderella scream, Asshole, at Charming, and then in a fit of rage, chuck her glass slipper at his head. Hopefully, it was made from like bulletproof glass, so it did not shatter and rain down glass on Charming's head and like disfigure him or anything. Oh, but if it did, we could change it to a Beauty and the Beast sort of thing.
Until now, nothing like that has ever happened between me and Phillip, but I did hear recently about a couple I know cough, Katie and Eric that were having a bridal shower. She had cleaned her house for three days straight because she wanted everything perfect. And after totally getting all the food, decorations, and games ready, she walked in their sparkling and spotlessly clean bathroom three minutes before the guests were due to arrive to take a quick pee, only to discover her prince charming's dirty underwear lying on the floor. She may or may not have thrown those dirty underwear at his head and yelled a few obscenities. She also said that was the last straw. That he didn't respect her.
What about the dude who wrote all the fairytales? Imagine being his wife. I'd be willing to bet she chucked a frying pan or two at him when he was sitting there day after day writing about love and little pigs, but he hadn't taken the trash out when she asked for three days in a row.
Maybe fairytales don't exist.
Really, I probably couldn't write the show anyway because I wouldn't know the ending.
What would happen after she chucked the shoe at Charming?
