Undream the Echoes

Elle
01.08.2000

It is a cruel January day. Snow threatens the grayed sky. I hate winter. I can’t stand how when it snows the world seems to die; no breathing creature dares to make a sound, not even the birds, and it is so gravely quiet that the sounds of the delicate snowflakes hitting the ground are so loud that they seem to echo. It scares me, the silence. And the echoes are so eerie.

It’s a few days after New Year’s and the holiday hustle and bustle has finally died down. I’m pretty upset about that. Even though I despise winter, I actually adore Christmas, and it’s not because of getting presents; I like it because everyone seems to be so happy between that entire month between Thanksgiving and the big day. The holiday jingles infest the radio and the sparkling decorations flood the mall and the smiles on children’s faces never disappear. Everyone is so excited. I have never understood how Christmas had been turned into such a huge deal – I mean, really, no other holiday is anticipated for so long, and it even overpowers other holidays, as I’ve seen some shops put up holiday decorations even before Thanksgiving arrives. And the real meaning of Christmas has been lost behind silly things like spending too much money and gingerbread houses and a fat man who breaks into your house and eats your cookies. But I don’t really care about all of that; the lost meaning and the silly traditions don’t bother me. Christmas brings so much happiness to so many people, and so that brings me happiness too. That is what’s most important.

But now that it’s all over I feel depressed. There are three months of winter left to endure, and now that there aren’t any good holidays to look forward to until spring rolls around (well, there’s Valentine’s Day, but come on now, let’s be serious), I know I’m going to get really bored. Winter in New England is not something that’s pleasant. Sure, the first month or so is, because that’s when the first snowfall is and everything turns so white and fluffy and pretty. Plus, there’s still Christmas to look forward to, so everyone’s still feeling pretty optimistic about everything. But then the holidays pass, and the pretty snow turns brown with dirt and sand from the roads, and the average temperature is a vicious fifteen degrees or so, and black ice contaminates the ground and you can’t go anywhere without slipping on your ass. I don’t know why humans didn’t evolve like every other normal creature and learn how to hibernate or to fly south. Winter is not a season to live through, it’s too vicious. Plants die and animals freeze to death. Winter had been created to kill. That’s why it’s so quiet when it snows; it’s a graveyard outside.

Liam, on the other hand, has never looked so happy. He hates Christmas. The stress of shopping and the burden of decorating a tree infuriates him. He thinks it’s stupid that we lie to our children and tell them stories about Santa. He can’t stand Black Friday shoppers who will kill each other just to get that last sale on an Xbox. And it dumbfounds him how Americans can look at exotic tribes from foreign countries and criticize them for their ‘absurd’ culture while we do things just as ridiculous; we cut down a tree and put it inside our house, litter it with sparkly things and then sit around it and wait for an imaginary being to place presents around it. “Don’t you think people from other places find us to be just a little bit stupid?” he always asks me. “Not to mention the fact that half of the people celebrating Christmas forget what it’s really about.” To him, Christmas day in itself is a hypocrite.

I found it weird the first time he told me his opinion on all of this. It seems that I should be the one who hates Christmas, not him. I’m the realist. I’m the one who hates everything. And he’s so kindhearted and gentle and always dreaming. But I guess sometimes it’s good to switch places.

And now that it’s a new year and Christmas isn’t for another twelve months, we’ve switched places yet again: I’m miserable and he’s acting like an excited little puppy.

“Wake up,” he whispers in my ear. He had woken up a while before me; I woke up around the same time too, but as soon as I saw the snow descending from the sky, I immediately fell back asleep in order to ignore the weather.

I groan into the in response and I don’t move. Maybe Liam will think I’ve died and he’ll leave me alone.

“Wake up!” he says again with so much enthusiasm that it nauseates me, and then I am promptly hit in the head with a pillow.

“Do that again and I will kill you,” I say without opening my eyes and I still have not moved an inch. I’m usually like this in the mornings. Of course Liam, being as stubborn as he usually is, has learned how to get his way; he’s learned how to deal with me in a situation like this.

“I’ll make you breakfast,” he bribes, and after I pretend not to hear him, he turns to Plan B. I feel two strong arms wrap around my waist and before I can wiggle free, I am dragged from the bed.

“Ow, Liam, let me go,” I grumble groggily as he drags me to the bathroom.

“Brush your teeth,” he orders and hands me my toothbrush. I’m still too tired so I just stand there and stare at it. Liam lets out an annoyed sound and takes the toothbrush from me and puts toothpaste on it, and then says, “Open wide,” and proceeds to shove the thing in my mouth in an attempt to brush my teeth for me.

“Give me that,” I snap and take it from him. I turn to the mirror and begin to brush my own teeth while he tries to hide his triumphant smirk and saunters out of the bathroom. This isn’t the first time Liam has done something like that. He has learned that when you try to force me to do something, I’ll take over and do it myself. He does the same thing when he makes a nice meal and I say I’m not hungry – as soon as he tries to force feed me (he usually makes choo-choo noises and says, “Here comes the train! Open up!”) I then willingly wolf down the rest of my food without any more complaining, because I know that Liam will never stop annoying me if I don’t. I’m not sure how he ever figured out to get me to do what he wants. No one’s been able to do it before, not even my mom. He’s clever, that one.

After I rinse I catch a glimpse of the clock: It reads seven a.m. “Why did you wake me up this early?” I shout and walk into the kitchen. Liam is making pancakes and humming along to jazz. In the four months that we have lived together, we have learned a few things about each other: I have learned that Liam loves jazz more than his own mother, and he has learned that I am incapable of making anything edible besides pastries and coffee. We’ve made a deal that if he feeds me well then I have to make him whatever latte he wants and I can’t ever complain about his stupid jazz, even though it’s really painful to listen to and I would rather bleed from the ears than to hear it.

“We’re going to my brother’s today, remember?” Liam says, interrupting his humming for only a moment before continuing.

“We are?”

He picks up the plate of pancakes and strolls over to me, planting a quick kiss on my lips as he continues to carry his tune. The feeling of his lips on mine tickles from the vibrations from his humming and I smile against him, my morning angst swiftly disappearing.

“Maybe I forgot to tell you,” he shrugs and puts the pancakes on the table. “Landon and his wife are going out for the day and they asked me to babysit their girls. I was going to take you with me, but now I feel bad that you didn’t know. You don’t have to go if you don’t want to.” He looks up at me and I can see that he is nervous. He wants me to say yes, very badly actually, but at the same time he doesn’t want to pressure me.

I give him a smile. “Well, I’m already up, aren’t I?” I ask.

The grateful smile that blossoms over his face lets me know that this is going to be worth it. He drapes an arm around my waist and kisses my temple. “Thanks,” he murmurs into my hair.

I learn in the car ride there that he isn’t bringing me to help him babysit his nieces to make it easier; he’s doing it because he just wants me to meet the rest of his family. He didn’t want to phrase it this way when he told me because he didn’t want to make it a big deal. “I was nervous and shitting my pants when I met your parents,” he tells me, “and I don’t want you to be nervous for this. My mom won’t be there or anything. It’s just my brother’s family and I really want them to like you.” I have met his mom already and she hates my fucking guts because no one is good enough for her sweet little Liam.

As soon as he tells me the last part – I really want them to like you – I know exactly what this was about. He talks about his brother’s daughters all the time and I know he adores them. He is bringing me to meet them because he wanted to see if they liked me as much as he did. It’s like a test, sort of, except Liam would never really be conniving enough to test me like this – he just wants to see if his nieces approve, because if they do, I am certainly a keeper. (He disregards the fact that his mom loathes me because he knows mothers are crazy sometimes.) I’m nervous now, even though that’s the opposite Liam wants me to feel. I’m not good with kids and there’s no way in hell his nieces will like me. I can’t make funny faces and I’m not good at dressing up and I never find decent hiding spots in Hide-and-Go-Seek. I’m just awkward and I know this day is going to be painful.

Liam fills me in about his brother since I don’t really know that much about him. Landon is two years his junior and he married the girl he got pregnant when they were nineteen. He and Shelly aren’t happy, but they pretend they are. They stay together for their kids.

We arrive at the house and I am properly introduced. I have to try not smiling like a creep because Landon looks almost exactly like Liam and I find that sort of adorable. The only difference between them is that Landon’s face is rounder, and his eyes are dark blue like his mothers, and he doesn’t have those dimples Liam has when he grins. Shelly is pretty in a vivid kind of way. Her short hair is died a deep red and her lips match the color. Landon greets me with warmth and I instantly like him, but Shelly gives me a wary smile. She looks a lot older than she really is. We’re told that their kids, Evie and Jane, are still sleeping. I feel relieved that I don’t have to meet them yet.

The four of us talk for a bit and I get more of a sense of what sort of couple Landon and Shelly are. The way they stand next to each other is stiff and awkward. Her arm is in his and they seem fine with standing next to each other, like physical contact is perfectly comfortable, but disliked. And when they interrupt each other in the middle of speaking – which is a frequent habit for both of them – their voices are clipped and annoyed, yet way too polite. They’re putting up a show and I can see that easily. I have a feeling that at one point they were happy together, carefree and blissful; but then it all went downhill with responsibility. Now their relationship seems forced, cold. Like the more they try to keep things together, the more it falls apart.

Somehow we’ve migrated further into their house and now we’re gathered around their dining room table, deep in conversation. To be honest I’ve never felt so old in my life. I remember as a kid how my parents could start a conversation with my friends’ parents ‘just to say hi’ and then end up talking for nearly a half an hour. We’re doing the same right now and I’m not sure if I should be happy I’m all grown up now or disgusted I ended up resembling my parents.

Suddenly Shelly offers to get everyone some coffee and I’m somehow dragged into helping her. I find myself in the kitchen getting out four mugs as she prepares the drinks.

“So how long have you and Liam been together?” she asks casually.

“Almost a year and a half,” I reply. “In May it will be our two year anniversary since the day we met.”

There is a pause. “Are you happy?” she asks tentatively.

My eyes bulge and I turn around to stare at her, but she keeps her back turned to me, pretending to be very focused on making the coffee. “Yes,” I say curtly. “We are.”

“I’m sorry.” She finally turns around to face me. I can see that she’s not trying to be mean or condescending like I thought she was; she seems more concerned than anything else. “We just met and I’m already being rude. It’s just…he’s a lot like his brother, you know?”

“Yes, I’ve noticed that,” I say slowly and lean up against the counter. I can sense she’s bursting to go on and so I wait.

“Landon isn’t…he’s not a bad person,” she goes on and stares out the window. It’s still snowing but the sky has lightened a little. “He’s stubborn, that’s all. He wants us to work out no matter what. He loves our girls so much. So much. All he wants is for them to have a normal life with a mom and a dad who are happy.” She sighs and then looks up at me. “But I don’t want that. I know that sounds selfish but I never wanted to have kids. Not so early in life, at least. Don’t get me wrong, I love Evie and Jane, but…it would be nice to be free for a little bit, you know?” Suddenly she shakes her head. “Oh, I’m sorry. I’m really sorry. You probably think I’m crazy because I’m telling you my sob story and we hardly know each other…but I can tell that Liam really likes you.”

“Yeah, I know,” I say softly. Then I smile. “And I don’t think you’re crazy.” Okay, so it is a little weird she’s telling me all of this, but I could tell at the table that just sitting next to Landon for a mere half hour was torture for her. And she’s had to deal with that for years. So yeah, I understand when someone needs to vent a little.

“I’ve never said this to any other girlfriend Liam’s had, but…” Shelly hesitates. “You are special to him. None of the other girls were like that. Trust me, I know. Liam and Landon are close and Liam comes over all the time to visit, and he’s been talking about you for ages.” She pauses again. It seems like she knows something more that I don’t, but I don’t press the topic. I wait for her to finish. “I just – I just hope Liam is different than his brother. Actually, I hope he is nothing like his brother at all.”

This shocks me. “I thought you said Landon was a good man,” I said.

“Oh, he is. He’s never treated me badly, ever. He just doesn’t love me, that’s all. And I don’t love him.” Her eyes tell the truth. “All I’m saying is that I think you should know what my life is like before it becomes your life. Because it’s not fair to be stuck here like this. I know I’m not the best person to give out relationship advice, but don’t let yourself be tied down unless you know it’s right. Trust me,” she adds and lets out a weak laugh, “it really fucking sucks.”

A heavy silence ensues, stronger than the snowy silence outside, but it is finally ended with the coffee maker letting out a sharp DING! to inform us that the coffee is finished. Shelly coughs a bit and then puts the same fake smile on her face that she had on in the dining room. “Let’s bring the coffee out, shall we?”

We reenter the kitchen and it’s the same charade as before. Landon and Shelly pretend to be happy and I pretend that the entire conversation didn’t happen. I look at Liam as he tells a joke and laughs and I wonder, Is he right? Am I as special to him as Shelly says I am? Is he that special to me? Would he be the man that I could wait for no matter what, even if some awful thing happens between us or if he has to go away for something and we have to be separated or –

My ponderings are cut short after Landon looks at the clock and says, “Shit! We gotta go.” Landon hugs me tightly before bidding goodbye. I like how friendly he is. He’s very straightforward, despite the fact that we have just met; it’s another trait he and Liam share. “Have fun, kids,” he says and winks. “Please remember that my children are in the house. Don’t do anything too naughty.” Liam rolls his eyes and attempts to punch his brother, but he’s too quick and flees out the door. I get the feeling that wrestling had occurred all the time in their childhood household. I laugh because Landon is more of the older brother than Liam is; Landon is more prone to teasing and taunting.

Liam kisses Shelly on the cheek and then she turns to me. She smiles at me but there’s something beneath the polite kindness, something like worry and sympathy. “Be careful,” she says, and I know from the sincere way she looks at me that she doesn’t mean that I need to be cautious with her kids. I need to be cautious around Liam.

I hope he’s nothing like his brother at all.

Once they leave, Liam looks at me and smiles. “Ready to meet the girls?” he says and I nod numbly. As I follow him further into the house, I can’t help but think again, Is he right?

A shiver pulses through my body and I can’t tell if my heart is telling me yes or if it’s screaming no.