Page 4 of Thankful For November

“Yeah. I’m okay now.” Brat.

“In the future, you’ve got to talk to me and tell me what’s going on, baby. That is not like you. Especially not telling me immediately when something makes you uncomfortable. If you don’t tell me I can’t fix it. You are the sole most important thing in my life, baby. There is nothing I won’t conquer for you.” I thought she knew that.

CHAPTER 3

NOVEMBER

I’m beginningto wonder if Lincoln and I got together too quickly. Money is a huge thing between us; the more this wedding is planned, the more the canyon expands. My dad wanted to be the one to pay for my wedding, which was always fine with me because I have very simple tastes. A few friends, family, good food, good music, and the love of my life by my side. All the other bullshit doesn’t matter to me in the slightest. It’s a point of pride with my dad; it’s what dads are supposed to be able to do, and the budget he set with me is well within the type I wedding I wanted, but this runaway train his mother is suggesting is killing me. I’ve been supplementing things with money from my savings account. I even had to get a third job that Lincoln didn’t know. I have just to pay for things so neither he nor my father know.

My DNA test results came in earlier this week, and they have thrown my life into a whirlwind. I found out that I have ten half-sisters, all from different mothers who used the same sperm donor. It was a shock. I don’t know what to do with this information or how to process it. I’ve been avoiding thinking about what I should do. Should I contact them? Should I let it go and move on with my life, then I wouldn’t have the medicalinformation I need to have a baby safely. It feels too much on top of everything else in my life. But simultaneously, I can’t shake off the curiosity and desire to know them. However, I just don’t have the mental or emotional capacity to handle it right now.

On top of all that, I’m still dealing with the stress of planning the exact type of wedding I don’t want. I want the marriage and the guy, but every leading to that point, it is going to kill me. I’m trying to really start my first year of college, and let’s not forget about working three jobs just to keep up with the extra expenses that are so far outside of my Dad’s budget. Clarice makes all these plans, puts them in motion, and then says nothing about paying for it. It’s not the cheap stuff either, no, no, no. It’s stupid crazy expensive shit I don’t want. Who does that? I mean, I wouldn’t take her fucking money, but it’s the principal. I’ve decided she’s trying to make me leave Lincoln or drive me insane so that he leaves me, and the sad thing is—it’s working. For the millionth time today, I begin to cry. What the hell is wrong with me?

It’s overwhelming and something has got to give. I hate that I’m suddenly a little bitch about everything, but I feel defeated.

I feel like I’m drowning in responsibilities and expectations and unsure if love is enough to keep me afloat. Lincoln has been understanding, but he’s also been away in London for work since our argument about his mother’s extravagant wedding plans. I know he said he’d talk to his mother, but nothing has changed in the week since my freak-out. He could have called her and tried to rein her in, but I don’t think he did because she’s still driving me bat-shit crazy.

It’s becoming clear that our different attitudes toward money are straining our relationship, at least for me. Lincoln comes from wealth and doesn’t understand why money is such an issue for me, while I come from a middle-class family where every penny counts. I haven’t come right out and told him that, butyou’d think a man like him would just know that not everyone is rich, nor do the poor like to talk about it.

I hate feeling like this – torn between my love for Lincoln and my family’s pride. But maybe it’s time for me to face reality and accept that sometimes love is just not enough.

CHAPTER 4

LINCOLN

“Where to Mr. Hughes?”Laurence, my driver, asks me while putting my luggage in the trunk.

“To my parent’s house please.”

“Very well, sir.” Unbuttoning my suit jacket, I lean back against the seat and try to decompress. I have been in London since the morning after November’s meltdown due to an overseas emergency with our distribution company. I hated leaving the country with the situation unresolved in her fair, but I vowed to myself to handle it as soon as I was back, and that time has come. November being upset over something that can be handled is unacceptable, and I won’t allow it.

Before my plane took off this morning, I called my love and checked in. I reminded her I loved her, and she said the same. She didn’t sound herself, but I can't say for sure without being able to look at her. Once I spoke with her, I phoned my parents and had her let my mother know I was stopping by to have a conversation with her. Lord forbid it was an impromptu visit.

Pulling up to the house, I wait for Laurence to open the door before walking up the steps and ringing the bell. “Good morning, Mr. Hughes. May I take your jacket?” Helen, my mother’s maid, asks.

“Yes. Thank you.” I hand it to her and follow her inside.

“Can I get you a beverage? Coffee, perhaps?” Yeah, that is probably not a good idea. That shot of espresso the barista onboard the plane shoved at me is still working its way through me.

“Water would be good.” Nodding, she walks away after instructing me to head to the parlor. I hear muffled voices from the other side of the door, and I was surprised to think my father was also home. I knock and wait for permission to enter.

Opening the door, I am surprised to not see my father with my mother but Karen instead. “Son. You look well,” Mom says, giving me her hand to kiss before her cheek.

“As do you, mother. Karen.” I acknowledge her with a nod ahead. I don’t miss the slight pinch of her face. I assume she expected something else in the greeting, but I can’t tell you. “Mother, did you forget I was coming by?”

“No, of course not. It was mere hours ago you had the message delivered to me.”

“I see. Well, I am sure I mentioned it needed to be talked to you. It was a private matter.” Her smile fools no one, and neither does the underhandedness of her choice.

“Well, I invited Karen because I assume it is wedding details, and she is an event planner.” My temple begins to throb because she is raising my blood pressure. I unbutton the top of my shirt, about to tell her just that, when she thwarts me. “As a matter of fact, she was just telling me how she received this last-minute invitation to some event or another that she can’t turn down but now, she’s in a rush trying to find a date. I suggested you might escort her.” she announces this like it is a fact she has announced and decided. What the fuck is she playing at?

She is saved momentarily by the arrival of Helen with my water. I rip it from her hands, open it, and chug it down, willing myself to remain calm. Out of the corner of my eye, Ican see Karen begin to fidget, perhaps rethinking her choice to align with my mother. Everyone knows I am unpredictable when pushed. My mother, no shocker, is holding steadfast as she has reigned over everything for far too long. Well, too bad for her. I plan on tearing that monarchy down quickly.

Her high-handed attitude and the bravado she is displaying right is pissing me off, and I am done with it. Standing up, I slam the bottle on the desk, march over to her, and grab her by her arm, pulling her toward the door.

“Lincoln! What is the meaning of this? I would kindly like for you to release my arm this instant.” She tries to posture in front of her guest. Ignoring her demand, I pull her into the hallway and talk as low and precise as possible.

“I don’t know what the fuck you’re playing at, mother, but this shit stops now. November is my fiancée, and she is going to be my wife. She is the love of my life and will be my children's mother. You are either going to get on board or miss the train.”

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