Seventeen: Apology

   "Lavender!" My father exclaimed in his deep voice, as he burst into the canary yellow guest bedroom. "Are you alright?"
   "Yes, dad, I'm sorry, I just had a horrible nightmare. I'm so sorry, I-"
   "Oh, no, darling, it's perfectly fine." His voice softened, his eyes shining like they always did when he began reminiscing. "I remember when you were a little girl, you'd scream that the monsters were going to come get you and you'd come running into Jolenne and my's bedroom, in your little pink, polka dotted pajamas with your stuffed animals, you'd crawl into bed with us and would ask if you were alright, if you wanted a glass of warm milk to help you fall back asleep, you'd sleepily reply that you were just making sure the monsters didn't scare us, because they didn't scare you at all, then you'd snuggle up against your mom and fall asleep... You were such a cute kid."
   "Aww, thanks daddy... Thank you for letting me stay the night, I'm so sorry, did I wake you up?" Charles "Chuck" Mumsy and Jolenne Mumsy were not the church going type, they didn't show up every Sunday and sit in a pew for a few hours, listening to the preach preach, however my dad was raised by a God fearing Catholic woman who fit the stereotype perfectly; she had the Virgin Mary painting above the fire place, wore a golden cross, and visited the church for mass on Easter, Christmas, or when she felt like she needed to go to confessional, and sent her son to a Catholic school, not because she believed in the education that was taught, but because she wanted to make sure that a nun would have her ruler ready if her son wasn't a perfect gentleman. She stated that Sunday was their God's day, so you dressed up nicely- even if Sunday was usually spent by my grandfather taking my dad to Steeler's games- a tradition that was so instilled in my father, fifty years later it was still in practice.
   "Oh, no, it's nine-thirty, we've been up for a bit, you're mom's eating breakfast and we heard your screams, so I scrambled over here. Is there anything I can get you?"
   "You've been generous enough already, dad, I'm fine." I smiled, standing up, off of the bed. I was lucky my parents trusted me enough to let them know when things with James and I had gone so awry that I needed outside intervention, that I needed a permanent safe haven and a lawyer... A lawyer.
   I shivered slightly, recalling my nightmare. James was dead? And a cop? How, he, I... He can't wind up dead, it's be awful, putrid, I... I was incoherent, I loved him, my twisted alternative nightmare universe me could barely handle the sight, I could barely handle the fictitious sight, it couldn't be real. I felt guilty for causing our tiff, which was all I'd told my parents, we'd had a petty argument, I needed space to collect my thoughts. I might have overreacted, but he didn't even consult me, a career change was monumental, especially when the new career was one the other spouse actively opposed.
   "Well, please come tell you mother that, I swear, she was about to have a heart attack at the age of fifty-seven."
   "Aww, poor mom..." I whispered, as anguish filled me. I hated scaring her, she couldn't see that I was unharmed, so her automatic assumption was, since her couldn't hear me, the worst had befallen me. I exited the bedroom, pacing the short distance to the kitchen.

   "Good morning, mom." I said cheerily, smiling wide.
   "Lavender, are you okay? Would you like breakfast?"
   "I'm perfectly alright and no thanks," I replied. I felt a bit queasy, perhaps it was thinking of the nightmare, the bloody snow, the gruesome, frigid body- I shivered slightly, I needed to stop thinking of it or my nauseous would turn into a repeat of yesterday's jogging mishap. walking over towards her, gently patting her shoulder, in attempt to reassure her with physical contact. Noticing that she'd finished her breakfast, I asked if she'd like me to wash the bowl, since it was the least I could do, she hesitantly agreed to let me.

   "Lavender." She spoke steady, a hint of curiosity invading her voice, as I turned on the sink and warm water began rushing from the tap. "I know your father and I try not to invade your privacy, but James seems like such a sweet man, what's going on?"
   "It isn't-" I paused, reaching underneath the sink for the dish soap, dribbling a few drops into the water to make it sudsy. I could tell her isn't anything or I could tell her what had happened and let her come to her own conclusions. "It isn't anything that puts either one of us in danger, not directly... It could, perhaps, puts James in harm's way..." She nodded, signaling for me to go on. "He wants to be a police officer." I quietly whispered, scrubbing the bowl.
    "A police officer? I hear the pay's alright, that has to be better than his current job, being gone for, what did you say dear? Ten, eleven, twelve hour shifts?"
    "But, but mom, what about your, your blindness?!" I exclaimed. Did the career's significance not resonate with her? How could she not be the least bit upset or concerned? The pain, the suffering that the injuries he inflicted upon her caused, had that fallen by the wayside? "I, er, I mean-" I stuttered, attempting to recover from pointing out her lack of sight, a topic I never knew how to approach.
   "Lavender, it's alright." She spoke softly, I saw a faint smile on her face. "James is a beautiful man, I know that you want the best for your family, that perhaps you haven't made peace with what happened to me, but I have, I don't hold a grudge against the force, you don't need to keep all that anger inside you for me. Perhaps you're terrified James will turn into the man who beat me, however not all police are like that, you have to understand that a beautiful man like James won't turn let the ugliness of the world, the ugliness of one putrid cop, turn him into an ugly man."
  

   "How... How do you know James is a beautiful man?" I murmured, as I submerged my hands into the sudsy water once more.
    "When you talk about him, there's a light in your voice, an exuberance, a love, Chuck tells me that when you're with him, you're practically glowing, that he does all these little things, he opens the door for you, he carries your purse, he stops to give money for those who needs it, he surprises you by sending bouquets to your classroom whenever he wants to remind you how much he loves you... He's come to your father, he's confided in him that he never thought highly of his own father, but Chuck, he respects, he thinks of him as more of a father figure than the man he shared genetic material with. He's told your father that he loves you, he wants to do whatever is best for you, but he isn't sure how- he cannot buy you elaborate gifts for you and you're so strong willed, but also very passionate, you make up your mind in an instant, you'll judge quickly and flee, like you did when you two first met, he's terrified if he missteps, he'll lose you."
   "Oh, God, mom..." Hot tears began slowly falling down my cheeks. "I've fucked up. God." How did I not realize that I flew away from situations that upset me, that I didn't want to confront them? I knew that James loved me deeply, but I wasn't aware that he also cared so much, he'd bonded with my father, he tried to get advice, try to make things as best as they possibly could and all I'd done was gripe about his job. I was awful, if he was scared of losing me, I should be terrified of losing him- he was such a good man, a caring, loving, passionate man and I was a child, create fights in my mind, then my flight instinct took over and I fled. "I have to go talk to him, I have to go beg for forgiveness, God, mom, what do I do?"
   "First, according to your father, you fell asleep with your makeup on. Go take a shower, clean up, change into clean clothes- apologies are more efficient if you look put together."
   "Alright mom." I smiled, draining the water from the sink and putting the dish on the counter, attempting to wipe away my smudged eyeliner and the mascara that had run down my cheeks, as I sniffled slightly.

♢ ♢ ♢

   "I'll drive you back to your apartment." My father offered, as I emerged from the guest bedroom in fresh clothes, my makeup reapplied, my hair redone; I felt better now that I was clean, I had collected my thoughts in the shower and worked together a general apology. James, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I was melodramatic, I acted so childish when I stormed out last night. I supposed that my mind works in flight or fight mode- I create a fight and I flee, leaving the befuddled, broken pieces behind. I know you'll be a great police officer, I know that you won't be anything like the one from my childhood; I had lingering fears, unresolved emotions, and I ended up victamizing myself and accusing you, who was just trying to do what was best by changing to a career that would allow me to see you more and bring in more mone- "Lavender?" My father interrupted my train of thought, as I sputtered that he simply didn't have to, I had already been an inconvenience and terribly rude showing up without and indication. "I insist, come with me." He took my arm, dragging me towards the door to the garage. "Go ahead, I'll let your mom know what I'm doing." He stepped away, as I lingered at the door. I was so grateful for my incredibly caring, generous parents; I didn't want to abuse their hospitality. 
   I pushed opened the door, pausing, gasping.

  
 Roses.
   Candles.
   Roses arranged in a heart.
   A baby grand piano.
   A woman in a black dress, singing, playing the piano.
   A man, standing in the center of the rose heart, wearing a tuxedo, smiling widely.
   "James..." I whispered. "What, what are you doing here?"

    "Bloody hell, Lav, you're my wife." He gently took my hands, leading me into the garage. "Where ever you go, I'll go. Your parents called me, let me knew you were here. I couldn't stand the idea of you sitting in your parents' home, stewing over our tiff, I couldn't wait until you decided you were done being angry, for all I knew, it might take you a fortnight."
   "Oh, God James." I sniffled, as I felt the tears welling back up again. I wasn't one to usually break down in tears; I'd been insanely overemotional lately, I'd cried last night watching a savings account commercial because a biracial lesbian couple were learning sign language so they could communicate with the deaf child they were going to adopt. "You, I don't, I love you so goddamn much. I'm so, so sorry, I apologize, I was melodramatic, I was childish, you were doing-" The tears began pouring down my face, streaking eyeliner, raven black mascara all over my face, as I continued blubbering on. "You're so wonderful and loving and you were doing what was best and I reacted so fucking poorly and I'm so sorry, I don't give a damn if you want to be a police officer or a 911 dispatcher or hell, a lifeguard or a juggler or martial arts teacher or a Broadway dancer, as long as you're happy, I just want you to be happy and I-I-I- I want to be able to make you happy and have you be happy with me, God, I always want you with me, I hate being mad, I hate being so sensitive towards cops and such a judgmental bitch and I'm so, oh God, you're looking at me like I'm insane." I paused, staring into his olive green eyes, they sparkled like tourmaline, as his smile grew wider, revealing his opal white teeth. 
   "Darling, you're not insane, there's a bit of an ink stain on your cheek-" e affectionately reached up to my cheek, gently wiping away the smeared makeup with his suit jack sleeve "-and I want you to know that I would never do anything to intentionally hurt you? Perhaps I should have told you about the offer before accepting, but I was caught up in excitement. I love you."

   "You accept my apology?" If he did, he didn't seem angry with me or even vaguely disgruntled, I'd never storm out on him again, instead of talking, calmly with him an resolving whatever issues, whatever exaggerations I had created within my mind.

   "Indeed I do, darling." He hugged me, gently placing his hands firmly on my back, then he placed his lips on mine, his five o'clock shadow tickling my chin, his kisses warm, hungry.
   I needed to forgive more easily, I needed to stop and think things through so I didn't have to end up apologizing because I'd acted rashly. I loved him and he loved me, our love could only resolve so much.

Next Chapter