Cheating Across the Pond

As I laid in bed that night, I thought of Stephen. How hot and cold he was in our relationship. He could be sweet and caring like he was tonight, but there were times when he was worse than just being mean. He would ignore me, like we weren't engaged.

Stephen would have remissions and relapses. There were months, weeks, days where he would ravish me and make me feel like I was the only one in the world, like we were meant for each other. But, eventually, and it seemed to be happening more often, he would become engrossed in his work, his friends, everything except me. There would be nights he wouldn't come home or nights when he would come drunk and, worse, smelling like woman's perfume.

I really didn't know what to make of this. Everyone loved Stephen except for Sara. My parents loved that he was successful and a perfect gentlemen. They never saw him at his worst or even when he was middling. They only saw the best of him. Sara thought Stephen was a stiff and it probably didn't help that she's been there for me. She's been on the receiving side of too many teary phone calls, to think he was what my parents idealized him as.

Days melted into each other as the sweltering Southern California heat took over each day. During these days, I packed and got my papers in order. At first, I looked at the day I had circled on my calender with happiness and excitement. But as it drew closer, the butterflies fluttered uncontrollably and dread began to take it's hold.

What if I made a mistake? What if I'm not good enough? What if I'm sent home? All these questions began to swirl in my mind, stewing and festering when I didn't tell anyone about my doubts and fears.

With my mother's insistence, I had begun emailing Uncle Ryan to inform him of my internship and how I will be working with him in the following season. That too added to my doubts, believe it or not. I was worried about maintaining my professionalism. How could I remain professional if I was having to work with and treat family? Would I be able to treat him objectively as if he was any other athlete? How could I treat him like he was anyone else when he was my Uncle Ryan. Uncle Ryan who first instilled the love of sports in me. Uncle Ryan who was the one who told me about boys and to be careful. My mother was Ryan's oldest sister and when I was born he was only 12, hardly the age for an uncle. But he was nice to me and he took quite a liking to me, due to our yearly trips to the Wales or England to visit him and his family during the summer.

We were close and now I wonder how we weren't able to keep in touch. I suppose it was because I stopped going with my mother to her yearly trip to the UK. But it didn't matter now, Ryan was more than happy to have me coming to Manchester. He couldn't help but gush about how the city has changed and which parts haven't and his family. He showed me the sweetest pictures of his children, Liberty and Zach and the wedding pictures. Stacey and Ryan seemed like a match made in heaven, they always looked so happy, so in love. I could only hope that Stephen and I have that.

Now, as I stand here in front of my calender for what seems like the millionth time. The butterflies stir again as I see the red-ink circle, was today. I gathered my carry-on and my suitcase. I would be traveling lightly to England since the boxes had been shipped off the England to meet me there in one week. Sara would be taking me to the airport since Stephen couldn't get time off work, or wouldn't.

Inhale. Exhale. Deep breaths were the only thing that would calm the fluttering butterflies but that only helped for so long.

Honk! Honk!

“London, baby!” I heard Sara call out from her car outside.

I couldn't help but laugh as I made my way outside. Once I got outside and locked the door, I started loading my suitcase into the trunk with Sara's help. “I'm going to Manchester, you know. That's like on the other side of England.”

“Whatever,” Sara shrugged her shoulders as she closed the trunk with a click. Sara joined me in the front of the car before turning on her stereo to play a CD, “I made you a special mix!”

I inwardly cringed as the strumming of The Clash's London Calling reverberated through the speakers and throughout the car. “Again, London is on th-”

“Other side of England, I know. Just loosen up and have some fun won't you?”

I merely rolled my eyes as we drove to the airport. It wasn't until I was checking in of my luggage that I started to get choked up. I suddenly realized that I wasn't going to be seeing Sara for who knows how long and my parents. My eyes started to tear and I tried to blink them away before Sara noticed.

“Are you okay, honey?” Sara asked noticing the tears in my eyes.

“Yeah. It's just that it hit me, you know. I won't be able to see you guys for a while. I mean, who will take care of my Mom when Dad is away on business? Who will my Dad have to talk to when Mom is frustrating him out of his wits? Who will cut you off after too many drinks at the bar?”

“Stephen,”

“What? I don't think Stephen would like to hear my Dad ranting about my Mom not putting the dishes away? Nor would he like having to peel you off guys.”

“You forgot Stephen. Again.” I could see the smirk on her face, despite her best efforts to hide it.

“It's not like that at all! Stephen's a grown man who is responsible and can take care of himself!” Did I really believe that? Did I really think that I wouldn't miss him?

“Sure,” Sara commented drawing out the “u”.

“Besides, he should be joining me in Manchester in a few months or so.”

“At least you remembered something,” Sara said with a smirk. “Now go on girl, there's a plane you gotta catch.”

I smiled as I hugged Sara for the last time, in what I assumed would be a long time.

“Have fun, okay?” Sara murmured.

I merely nodded before I, with carry-on and purse in tow, made my way to the security checkpoint. As I handed Security my documents, I blinked away the tears that were blurring my vision and threatening to fall. I looked over my shoulder to Sara. I couldn't help but cry when I saw that she, too, was crying. I passed security without a hitch and went to my gate. There, my cell phone vibrated, alerting me of a text message. Stephen. It was a video of the song “Leaving on a Jet Plane.”

'I'm ... I'm ...

All my bags are packed, I'm ready to go
I'm standin' here outside your door
I hate to wake you up to say goodbye

But the dawn is breakin', it's early morn
The taxi's waitin', he's blowin' his horn
Already I'm so lonesome I could die

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

I'm ...

There's so many times I've let you down
So many times I've played around
I'll tell you now, they don't mean a thing

Every place I go, I think of you
Every song I sing, I sing for you
When I come back I'll wear your wedding ring

So kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

Now the time has come to leave you
One more time, oh, let me kiss you
And close your eyes and I'll be on my way

Dream about the days to come
When I won't have to leave alone
About the times that I won't have to say ...

Oh, kiss me and smile for me
Tell me that you'll wait for me
Hold me like you'll never let me go

'Cause I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

And I'm leaving on a jet plane
I don't know when I'll be back again
Oh, babe, I hate to go

But I'm leaving on a jet plane.

I love you. Be safe,” It read. Remissions and relapses. He was in remission.