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Sitting beneath Mom’s latest grand chandelier in the best lounge, I tell her, Dad, and Sas – to the extent she didn’t know the finer details – everything. From the first time I met Sienna because I needed her help over the video that has ironically caused our relationship to implode this week. To Las Vegas, what Carl did to Sienna, and how I had one of the best times of my life with her, until the intervention of flaming sambuca caused us both to have substantial memory loss. I leave out the part in the bathroom of the chapel.
“But we married because, ultimately, whether I knew it on Paradise Strip or not, I wanted to keep Sienna in New York. I want to date her,” I tell Mom.
I tell them about Sienna’s temporary job and how she refused to rely on our marriage for her visa but when TJ’s video of our wedding was accidentally released, we needed to cover our tracks with a PR story, even though Sienna shut that down with speed and precision.
“She’s a real PR pro,” I say, smiling as I do. “She’s also neurotic and a perfectionist. Also a control freak, over-promiser and overachiever, and she freaking nags me like a hen pecking a child, over and over. But I…” I nod to myself, accepting what I’ve known for weeks. “I’ve really, genuinely, fallen for her.”
The room goes silent. It feels weird to even say out loud that I have true feelings for a woman because that’s not the kind of guy my family and friends know. It’s not the kind of boy or man I’ve been, ever. Not until Sienna.
So, it might be easy to assume that I don’t know what love feels like but what I do know is that the way I feel about Sienna is not going to disappear because she’s run off to Canada. It’s not going to disappear if she never comes back. It’s never going to disappear and it’s crippling and I can’t focus. I feel chaotic and angry and resentful and so fucking sad.
Mom and Dad exchange looks as I brace myself.
“Okay, lay it on me. Give me all the shit you’ve got,” I tell them, mostly looking at Dad, waiting for his reprimand. Steadied to hear what an idiot I am and how I’ve let down the Harris Clan, again.
It’s Mom who speaks first. “I’m proud of you, Jax,” she says.
Huh? Every tiny muscle in my face contorts with confusion. Proud of me?
“You tried to help a woman in need and in doing so, she helped you grow up, emotionally, I mean.”
“You’re not pissed at me?” I ask, a little high-pitched and screechy actually, taken entirely by surprise.
“Oh I’m pissed, young man. You will pay me back with a lavish wedding ceremony in The Hamptons, where I can give my daughter-in-law something old, something borrowed and something blue, and I can steal a dance with my son. And you will go on to give me the most remarkable and outrageously adorable grandchildren any grandparent could ask for. But, right now, I think we need to focus on how you put things right with Sienna.”
My phone starts vibrating in my pocket and I pull it out to see TJ’s name on the screen. He’s been outside this whole time, sitting in my car, wanting meatloaf but not daring to come in until I’d released the first shitstorm on my parents. Truly, I think he considers my present dilemma a good thing for him. I become firmly in the doghouse (pun intended) and he sweeps in like a shining star, the good child.
“It’s safe,” I tell him down the line. “Now is a good time to bring in Mom’s first grandchild.”
Within seconds, my golden retriever puppy comes bounding into the house, slip-sliding on the polished floor, probably scratching it. He finds me in the best lounge, where he proceeds to bounce giddily around my legs and take a leak on Mom’s floor. Shit.
Cringing, I look up to Mom and give her a big toothy grin. “Mom, Dad, Aunty Sas, meet the newest addition to our family.”
“He bought Sienna a dog, as if that would fix this fucking mess,” TJ says, snorting and appearing as smug as I expected him to be.
“You bought her a puppy?” Mom asks, or more accurately, exclaims. “When she doesn’t even know that you’re in love with her and she’s dealing with this entire shit show? Never repeat my language.” She stands from her chair, which makes the pup run to her and scratch at her powder-blue chinos. Then it starts bucking her ankle.
“Elvis! Elvis, no!” I tell him.
The pup doesn’t listen. He starts running in circles around the lounge, as Mom’s face gets redder and I think this might be the thing that’s tipped her over the edge. “Elvis?” she screeches.
I wince, one eye closed. “It was either Elvis or Marilyn Monroe and I don’t think he’d thank me for that, even when I have his balls cut off for him bucking everything in sight.”
Dad groans, as theatrical as I’ve ever known him, and drops his face into his palms. “You Harris kids and your love lives are going to be the death of me.”
Sas looks at me, knowing that her falling in love with one of Dad’s pro-football clients last year is still pretty raw, no matter how much her and Colton are serious about each other.
“Tell me, TJ, what are you going to present me for your showstopper?” Dad asks.
“Don’t worry about me, Dad, I’m all about hockey,” he says smugly.
“Thank goodness I have one smart kid,” Dad says.
“Is Elvis peeing on my new Versace vase?” Mom yells.
“Shit. Elvis, buddy, come on.” I rush to scoop him up and Marta suddenly swoops into the room with antibacterial wipes. The way she looks at me tells me she’s been eavesdropping. I’d expect nothing less. She must enjoy our family fallouts otherwise I’m not sure why she’s put up with us all these years.
