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I was working on dinner when my favorite person in the world decided to let me know he didn’t feel the same any longer.
Eric, a handsome devil with dark brown hair and eyes, came in straight from work acting unusually fidgety. We didn’t live together, but Eric always stopped by my house for dinner, usually with me fixing it. The fidgety part, though, that was new. On a normal day, Eric was as laid back as they came, which grounded my more high-strung nature, balancing each other out. Actually, that’s not quite right. We were just like this chicken pot pie that I was trying to perfect. All great ingredients separately, but put them together, and we made a really messy, delicious relationship. Every couple should be as close as we were.
“Mel, I need some space.”
My mind screeched a halt with its sentimental rambling. “What do you mean, you need space?” I demanded, as I stopped trying to pinch the edges together of the pie crust over the chicken and vegetables mixture. The crimped edges were mangled anyway.
Eric sighed, rubbing his hands over his face before he spoke again. He looked unhappy that he had to explain.
“This,” he gestured between him and me, “isn’t working right now. I think we need some space. Our relationship isn’t what I need at the moment.”
Eric, that handsome jerk, was still in a suit. He should be burning up—it was going to be the Fourth of July next week, and it was a record scorcher. The rest of the summer was probably going to be miserable with the humidity and daytime temperatures in the upper nineties or low hundreds.
Instead, Eric wasn’t even perspiring, and the kitchen was sweltering, despite the fact that I had turned down the thermostat earlier. Since I wasn’t teaching third grade at the moment, I was in old shorts and a tank top. I hadn’t bothered to put an apron on, so I had white streaks from the flour against the dark blue material of the tank, plus some of the sauce and chicken juice. Ugh. My hair was pulled up in a messy ponytail, and Chapstick was my only concession to makeup. Plus, I was sweating. Did I put on enough deodorant? I mean, I was being dumped. Of course I should look like I’d been rode hard and put up wet.
However, I was determined to do one thing that I could temporarily control—I refused to become a hysterical female. I’d cry later, while I mixed tea, while I unloaded the dishwasher, while I waited for this stupid pie to bake that I’d apparently be eating on my own.
I enjoyed eating chicken pot pie when it was cold outside, in a restaurant. Even the frozen variety was pretty good, considering all you did was either stick it in the oven or microwave. It was just when I was making them at home that I never could get them the way I wanted them. I was using a new recipe I’d pulled off the internet, hopeful this recipe would be the winner.
Today, I had wanted cold and refreshing chicken salad. That one turned out right every single time. Grapes, pecans, it didn’t matter. I just never did onions. Ever. Guess what Eric had been craving? That’s right, my homemade chicken pot pie, because that was his favorite. He’d probably been planning to break up with me when he asked me to fix it.
“For how long?” I asked. Was I being laid off, or was this a permanent firing? I doubted this was some benevolent sabbatical. I stared straight at him. His eyes slid from mine to check out my white-tiled countertop.
He shrugged before he looked back at me. “I don’t know. We’ve been together for a long time. I just need to see what’s out there, before I settle down. I mean, it’s better to get the divorce before the marriage, right?”
Four years. We’d been a couple since our sophomore year of college, and there had still been no ring in sight. I’d even stopped subtly hinting about it. Divorce before marriage, my rear. This was just his excuse for wanting to justify breaking up with me.
Pretty much all of our friends had gotten married. I knew I was an object of pity with my girlfriends, who usually told me I shouldn’t put up with this crap if I was unhappy with the situation, especially since I’d told Eric a few times about said unhappiness. Deep down I knew they were right. It’s just, I’d invested so much time with him, and if I ended it, I’d have to start all over again. That means something. Doesn’t it?
“So you want us to see other people?” I asked. What’s good for the goose, and all that. My best friend, Leslie, and our other girlfriends were going to be sad but also thrilled for me.
Eric looked surprised that I was so calm about this, or maybe it was the fact that I had said “us” instead of “you”. “Uh, yeah.”
“Okay, then.” Hot tears were starting to form, but I willed them away, blinking rapidly. None of them spilled over. I could do this. I was going to look to the future. My wonderful future without the blockhead.
“You’re okay with all of this?” Eric asked incredulously.
I shook my head. “Of course not! I’m so not okay with all of this. But I can’t stop you, so there it is.” I couldn’t control what he did, but I could stop myself from tossing the pie into his stupid, handsome face.
“But I thought...” Eric was disappointed. Boo hoo.
“What? You thought I’d break down and be all hysterical and everything? Fall to my knees and beg you to stay? Please.” I huffed a little bit for dramatic effect, which allowed my stuffy nose to get a reprieve, at least until he was gone.
“Oh. Well, I guess this is it for a while.”
“Guess so.” Actually, whether he knew it or not, this was it. Period.
“Are you going to be okay?”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, Eric, I will be fine. I do have a life outside of you, you know.” I had friends, I had work—okay, so I didn’t have work at the moment, church activities, family stuff...I guess I needed to get a new Plus One for my second cousin’s wedding this weekend. Three days to possibly find a date and not scare him off with the wedding request. Forget it. I needed space from other guys, period, for a little while, at least through the weekend. The only thing worse than having your relatives pity you was being a pity date. That was one experience I could knowingly do without. As for the Fourth of July barbeque at my aunt and uncle’s house coming up? All anyone cared about was that I was bringing the deviled eggs. Whew.
Eric nodded. “Can I call you in a few weeks?” I already doubted he’d call.
I shrugged, already resigned to forever without him. “Sure.” I absolutely would not be calling him. Chasing after a man that doesn’t want you never bodes well for your future. My momma taught me that. I was worth more than that.
“Hey, just because we’re seeing other people doesn’t mean we have to stop being together, you know? What do you think?”
Seriously? For someone who dealt with rich people’s money on a regular basis, he was pretty stupid. I rued the day I met him, besides the last four years I wasted on him.
“Seriously? No, we are definitely not together.”
Eric was starting to look concerned. Maybe he realized he made a mistake by trying to have his cake and eat it, too. Gluttony is never appreciated by the ones who do without. “Well, can I at least kiss you bye?”
“No, Eric. You may not kiss me.” My tone was biting, but I didn’t care. I’d had enough of this crap, and I just needed to be alone. He wanted to have his space, so that’s what he was going to get. “Now get out of here before you make me even madder. I’ve got to make slits in the crust, and you probably shouldn’t be around me holding a knife for a while.” The gleam of the knife I was holding caught his eye.
He skedaddled right out of there, the back door swinging shut, the frame catching the door that had been swelling from the heat and moisture. Putting down the knife, I stalked over to the door, opened it, and slammed it shut. Then I deadbolted it, and locked the handle. It did no good, but it made me feel a little better. I remembered I needed to get the pie in the oven.
I finished pinching the edges, took the knife and enjoyed stabbing the slits a little too much. I had to check the bottom of the pie pan, but the glass hadn’t cracked.
At least something was. I double checked the oven temperature and the timer before opening the oven door. As I slid the pie with the requisite baking sheet under it in the oven, I did as I promised, and I bawled.
*
I WISH I COULD TELL you that I immediately got over Eric, and found the true love of my life on a wacky and wonderful blind date. Or that I met someone at the wedding (not at the barbeque, because, ew, the only single ones there were my cousins). Or that Eric, realizing his mistake, ran back to my door, and after I’d unlocked the deadbolt and pulled the sticking door open, fell to my feet and groveled for me to take him back.
None of that happened.
I didn’t see Eric for the first month, although he left me a checking in voice mail, and a couple of friendly texts. I didn’t return the phone call, but I did respond to the texts. My answers consisted of “Good” and “Couldn’t care less.” I heard through our network of friends (and social media) that he was happily single, and dating to his heart’s content. He was going to make some lucky girl happy and comfortable, moneywise at least. His ability to work within a relationship timeframe was questionable. Although, it would be just my luck that he’d fall madly in love with a girl on a first date and marry her the following week. So far, though, that didn’t happen.
As for me, I never bothered updating my relationship status, or posting about my dates. I’m sure the rumors also got back to Eric, too. I dated some. There was definitely kissing, and not just on the cheek. I saw a lot of movies and ate at a lot of great restaurants. I was surprised by how much fun I ended up having.
I hated it the first time I went out on a date with a new guy, but after a few outings, I was an old pro. I may have been in a long-term relationship for four years, but I had forgotten how to be a great casual dater. Since I didn’t believe in sinking, I learned quickly.
I didn’t do the dating sites, not that there was anything wrong with them. However, I had lots of girlfriends, who knew guys; the girls’ boyfriends who had guy friends; and a determined grandmother, who worried that I would never get to use those birthing hips before she died.
After a few missteps, I found a guy I really liked. I mean, really liked. Clay was ruggedly handsome, with dark blond hair and green eyes. He was a pediatrician, so he loved kids. Most importantly, he liked me a lot. Plus, he liked really dumb comedies, just like me, so we’d spend hours belly laughing at crazy antics on the screen. If we worked out, all of this boded well for our future. Our blond-haired, green-eyed children would adore us and have our weird sense of humor.
He wasn’t my rebound. I was just happy that I had found him. He seemed to just be happy to be with me. Although he appreciated when I cooked us meals, he proved he was a better cook than me on many occasions. Also, he was a big fan of takeout.
Clay had been visiting our church, and one of my friends introduced us. Actually, Kelli had dragged me over to him, intent on us meeting cute and all that. Kelli’s little girl was one of his patients, and Bethany was in love with Dr. Clay and told him, and us, that she was going to marry him. It was hysterical, and yet, so very sweet, when he blushed and said she was going to get extra princess stickers for that when she came to see him again. When Kelli, who elbowed me, and Bethany, who tried to stare me down, finally left, Clay cut to the chase.
“Would you like to go out sometime?”
Uh, hello. Yes! “Sure. That sounds great. How about now?” Hey, I knew a catch when I saw one. If I had to knock a four-year-old little girl with a giant bow in her hair out of the way, I’d do it. Grandma had guilt-tripped me about the wasted birthing hips again the day before.
Apparently Clay had also met my grandmother. “Oh, um, okay. Yeah. That’d be really great. Do you like Cheddar’s?”
Who didn’t? Great food, great prices. If we hurried, we’d beat the eleven o’clock late service letting out at the huge Community Church down the street. We were still going to be waiting in line because of everybody from all of the other churches letting out at the same time, but this way, Clay and I would have extra time to get to know each other. Because, you know, we had already plunged into this dating relationship headfirst.
That first lunch led to other lunches, dinners, him running late picking me up for Sunday School, and the nail biting moments of meeting each other’s families. And on and on with all of the things that exclusive couples traditionally do. But not that. We were part of the waiting until we were married crowd.
We had been seeing each other for a couple of months, and I had just been embraced by his warm and large family, when Eric showed up again, right before Halloween. I was starting to think he had a thing for trying to ruin my life according to holidays.
It was Saturday, and Clay and I were going to visit the Parthenon in Centennial Park. I hadn’t seen the giant Athena since I was a kid, but I always enjoyed visiting the other side of Nashville, especially if I was going shopping, eating, or taking in a Vanderbilt football game. Clay and I had already worn our black and gold a couple of weeks before, and then done a little shopping at the Green Hills Mall and eating at The Cheesecake Factory.
Clay was early. I had already been to the bathroom, and I was ready. Brown hair richly highlighted. Lipstick and blush. Cropped khakis and an orange tee shirt, with a light jacket, I was ready for my fun day out. I needed to remind Clay that we had to stop and get extra Halloween candy for Trunk or Treat the next afternoon at church.
But when I opened my door, Eric stood awkwardly on my porch. Dating like crazy was a good look for him, darn it. His dark good looks were the same, only his tan was deeper. I suddenly remembered he just got back from Key West with his entire family. Originally I was included in the plans, which worked out because of fall break for his nieces, nephews, and me. I was surprised he didn’t take a significant other with him, but according to my best friend, Leslie, none of his family’s pictures showed him with anybody else. I had to take Leslie’s word for it, because I quit stalking Eric’s Facebook page months earlier.
As for me, I spent fall break in Gatlinburg to see the beautiful autumn leaves with Clay’s whole family. We hiked a steep trail to see a waterfall, visited Ripley’s Aquarium of the Smokies, and got some beautiful pottery in the Arts and Crafts Community. I roomed with his younger sister, Shelby. Shelby was still in high school, and was absolutely boy-crazy. She was sweet, but glued to her phone the entire time. I worried that one of these days, her thumbs were going to be full of arthritis.
I didn’t post any pictures, but Shelby did, and tagged me in several, including a couple of Clay and me all lovey-dovey, as I tried desperately to not fall off a mountain. I guess that’s why Eric was visiting with Clay due any minute.
“Hi,” Eric said, shifting from foot to foot.
“Hi. My boyfriend’s coming in a few minutes. You need to not be here when he does, so what do you want?” I didn’t like being forced to be rude, but I really needed him to get a move on. There was the added benefit that I didn’t want to see him.
“I—I just wanted to see how you’ve been?”
“Great!” I said cheerfully. Maybe I amped it up a bit, but it was true. I threw in a bright smile to seal the deal. Plus, it was amped in its own right—I’d suffered through whitening strips this morning. Maybe one day I’d be able to break my coffee addiction, but I didn’t hold out much hope.
I belatedly realized I should give him some common courtesy. “How about you?” Not that I really cared, but, still. Those Southern manners stuck, no matter how irritated I was.
“Can’t complain,” he said, nodding his head.
We stood there looking at each other. There was no way I was going to ask him in. My kitchen didn’t need any more memories of him trying to convince me of whatever.
I guess Eric realized this, too, because he started talking again. “I miss you,” he said.
“Oh.” I couldn’t tell him I missed him, too, because I realized I was really over him. Clay was everything that Eric wasn’t. It was one of the things that drew me to him.
Eric spoke again before I could continue my thoughts. “I made a mistake when I asked you for space.”
“You’re too late,” I declared. I inwardly winced at my dramatics. “I’ve moved on, with a better guy in every possible way. He treats me better than you ever did.”
I had dreamed of this moment, relished the chance to rub my happiness in his face. So why did I feel a little mean doing it? I was a foolish pushover, that’s why.
Eric ignored my words. “I still love you. When we were on our trip, I kept looking around, thinking that you should be there, too.”
“You saw the pictures on my Facebook page!” I felt bad that the fact that he had been stalking my Facebook page made me feel good. I was so shallow.
“Yeah,” he said unashamedly, “and it made me realize that I love you and want you with me, all the time.”
“Well, like I said, you’re too late.” I swallowed, refusing to let his devastated face sway me.
“Do you love him?” he blurted out.
“What?”
“Do you love him?”
“It’s really none of your business.” I was pretty sure that I was in love with Clay, and there was no way that I was going to tell Eric that, when I hadn’t told Clay yet.
“If you really love him, I’ll leave you alone.” Eric insisted.
“For goodness’ sake, Eric, I care about him, okay? He’s a great guy and I love being with him. That’s all I’m going to say, so that’s going to have to be good enough for you. So you need to leave me alone.”
Eric suddenly grinned at me. “You didn’t say you loved him, though. I’ve got a chance!”
“You do not have a chance!” I said sharply. “You had your chance, and you blew it! Four years, Eric! I wasted four years on you!”
“It wasn’t a waste!” he protested. “They were the best years of my life!” They weren’t the best years of my life, though, and that’s all that mattered.
“Oh, really! Then why on earth did you dump me?”
“Because everyone kept asking when I was going to pop the question, and saying what a great wife you’d be, and asking when were we getting married, having kids, buying a house, and everything else, and I panicked. I’m sorry I did, but that’s why.”
“Then you’re an idiot. You could have talked with me about this.”
“Well, I am now. I’m not giving up on us!”
“You already did!” I sang. I decided to plead with him, because I, unlike Eric, believed in common sense. “Eric, there is no us. The other half of my ‘us’ will be here in a few minutes, and I am not at all willing for the two of you to have an awkward encounter. Now, you need to leave,” I said firmly.
Eric nodded. “Okay, I’m going. But this isn’t over,” he said as he turned away to walk back to his car.
“It was over months ago!” I called after him. “I’m glad you broke up with me! Now I can be with my one true love!”
“I love you, too!” he shouted as he got in the car.
“‘I love you, too,’ my foot,” I muttered.
Eric had already backed out of my drive and was headed out of the cul-de-sac just as Clay turned in. They passed each other, and I wondered if Eric had thrown Clay a dirty look. Or a middle finger.
I had the door still open when Clay pulled into the driveway, and I waited for him as he bounded up the steps and gave me a quick kiss.
“Hey, do you know that guy that just passed me?”
“Why, what did he do?”
“Nothing. Just waved and smiled. He doesn’t look familiar.”
“He’s my ex-boyfriend. You know, Eric, the one who needed some space?”
“Huh.” His eyes scanned my face. I’m sure my color was high, because my blood pressure sure was.
“He just showed up here a little while ago, when I thought it was you running a little early, and I’d already gone to the bathroom and was totally ready, and anyway, he kept trying to get me to give him another chance, even though I told him I was waiting for you! Ugh! He’s so annoying!” I huffed. My face was flushed, and I could feel the heat of my neck and chest, too. Sometimes fair skin sucked.
I was so riled up, I just kept on. “I mean, it’s not like I spent four years of my life waiting for him to want to get married or anything. I can’t believe he actually wanted space. I should have been the one to want some space and to see new people! Leslie and everybody else said so! I can’t believe I let myself get stuck in that situation for that long. I’m worth more than that! And if Eric is too blind to see that, well, that’s just too bad for him! I’m with you, now, and I’m happy, darn it!”
“Huh,” was Clay’s response to my rant.
“Is that all you’re going to say?” I demanded. “He says he wants me back.” When Clay opened his mouth, I said, “If you’re about to say you think we need some space, I promise you. I. Will. Scream.”
Clay laughed at my dramatics. “I could easily fall in love with you, Mel. In fact, I’m headed in that direction.”
“Me, too.” Now I felt all gooey, like a S’more...wait a minute. I really needed to stop comparing my love life to food. No good could come from this.
“But,” Clay began, proving me right. “I don’t think I can let myself if you’re still hung up on your ex.”
“I’m so not hung up on my ex!” At Clay’s look, I corrected myself. “I so do not think I’m still hung up on my ex!”
“That’s my girl.”
“That’s what I want. To be your girl,” I protested.
“I still think you should think things over.”
“Aren’t you going to fight for me?”
“Do you want me to?” It was the fact that he was asking me that just about broke my heart.
“Yes!”
“Then yes, I’m going to fight for you.”
I wasn’t sure about how much real effort he was going to expend in that particular project, when Clay surprised me. He grabbed me by my upper arms, and gave me a passionate kiss, you know, the one that makes you see stars, the one that makes your toes curl. When he released me, I was a bit unsteady, and had to grab the door frame.
I touched my mouth. “Oh, my.”
“Just something for you to consider while you’re thinking things over this afternoon,” he suggested.
I could think everything over this afternoon. I could take a few extra hours to confirm what I already knew. What that kiss showed. What it made me feel.
“I don’t need to think anything over, Clay. I already know who I need to be with.”
Uncertainty showed in his eyes for a brief second, before it disappeared at about the same time I said, “Just something for you to consider while I’m kissing you.”
I was a woman of my word. My lips mashed up against his, and then softened, although I did manage to slip a little tongue in there. Clay didn’t seem to mind. If he wanted to complain, I didn’t really give him a chance. I kept him a little busy.
When we finally came up for air, Clay said, “Wow,” and grinned at me like he’d hit the jackpot. Jackpot for crazy, but if he was happy with it, I wasn’t going to argue.
“Oh, and I love you,” I informed him.
“So you’re just going to be all casual about telling me that, huh?”
“Totally.” His arms slid around me. I wriggled until he got the hint and squeezed tighter.
“Well, if we’re going for casual, I totally love you, too.”
A lot more kissing occurred, so much that our trip to the Parthenon got delayed by an hour or so. Oh, and then I had to call Eric before we left to view the giant golden statue and everything else that was pretty incredible.
This is kind of how it went down:
“Eric?”
“Mel, I knew you’d call me. You know we’re supposed to be together. Our love will live forever, and forever.” Okay, I made that last sentence up.
“Yeah, about that. You know how you wanted some space?”
“Yeah?” he asked cautiously.
“Well, I need some space.”
Eric blew out a breath. “Okay, I guess I deserve that. How long?”
“About fifty years or so. You know what, you’d better make it sixty. I’m going to be a little busy.”
“But, Mel—” I cut him off.
“I love him, Eric. You did me a favor, and it just took me a while to realize it. I wish you well.” I meant that. I had everything I needed right beside me. “Bye.”
He was silent as I hung up the phone. I turned to my boyfriend. “So where were we?” I asked in what I hoped was a seductive tone.
It didn’t work, because Clay glanced at his watch. “On our way to Centennial Park.” He smacked me on the bottom. I glowered, but he ignored me. “Come on, Mel, let’s get going. Daylight’s wasting.”
“We could skip.”
“Nope. I promised you we were going, and we’re going. You said you were looking forward to this for the past few weeks, and I don’t want to let you down.”
I considered. “How do you feel about chicken pot pie?”
“I like it just fine. Did you want that for dinner tonight?”
“Not necessarily.”
To his credit, Clay didn’t turn around and run screaming out of the house. “Okay. Why’d you ask?”
“Just curious.”
“Did I pass some sort of test that girls come up with?”
“Silly Clay. You passed it a long time ago.”
“So we’re good?”
“We are so good.”
*
CLAY AND I GOT ENGAGED on Valentine’s Day, and married that June. It was a beautiful ceremony, in an air conditioned church sanctuary, because it was hotter than you-know-what outside, with all of our family and friends. Eric was not invited, although he could stalk our friends’ Facebook pages for wedding pictures. I had unfriended him, a gesture that gave Clay much satisfaction.
Speaking of Eric, I heard he’s dating a nice young lady, and she may be the one. I’m glad. Really, I am. I just hope he appreciates this one, especially when she fixes him chicken pot pie in the middle of summer. Hopefully, she’s not fixated on relating food to relationships like his last girlfriend. Otherwise, he’s in trouble.
As for Clay and me, we’ve decided to start a family sooner rather than later. Clay said that he wants to make sure I get to use those infamous birthing hips.
So, I’ve decided something.
Love, and life, may be messy, but that’s okay. They’re supposed to be. Thanks to my husband, they’re both delicious.