Page 62 of Delayed Intention

The Hangover

Barely pulling myself together, I somehow make my way to a taxi that will deliver me to today’s planned spa day.

The entire place has been booked by our wedding party and families.

This will be an all day thing. I thank God that I’m not expected to do anything more taxing than get my busted ass over to the venue.

Later tonight, however, will be ladies’ night out, and I’m going to need serious hydration and energy drinks if there is any hope of my participation.

There’s no point in wishing there’s more of a buffer between these events and my hangover.

It is what it is. I’m both relieved and sad I won’t be seeing Josh today.

Yesterday was full of terrible decisions and now that I’m left with the consequences, I’m hoping it’s all out of my system.

The rest of the week should be drama-free so that the focus can go back to where it should be: my brother’s wedding.

Yesterday morning I’d planned to meet Josh for coffee.

We texted out the details the night before.

Instead of waking up and getting ready, like a normal person, I started worrying about what he wanted to talk about.

Anxieties about him, seeing my family, and seeing Ellen kept playing out in my head.

I could have called someone, but instead, I started drinking alone, circling the drain with my own mental spiral.

I ended up so trashed right there in front of God and everyone, making an absolute fool of myself.

At least, the parts I can remember. I grimace, recalling how I threw up into a trash can in front of Josh, not to mention dozens of tourists.

With my luck, I’m going to end up as a viral meme on the internet.

One thing I do recall with clarity is that I survived last night because my siblings, Josh, and Abbie, were running interference.

Thanks to them, I don’t think I had to interact with Ellen beyond a polite ‘hello’ and nod.

My goal for the rest of the week is that the remaining time will unfold without any further focus on my drama.

It’s time to keep my head down and do everything to make this week about the bride and groom.

Pulling into the lot twenty minutes ahead of schedule, I’ve arrived at the same time as my sisters.

From an early age, Ellen drilled into us that unless we were ten minutes early, we were late.

I guess that lesson stuck. Roselyn, Tamar and Daniella are all talking in a huddle, coffee cups in hand and I join them.

Felicia arrives five minutes later with Ellen and her own mother, Dena, whom I’ve not met.

Best foot forward, I hold my breath when I shake her hand, hoping she can’t smell the wine still leeching from my pores.

My father’s rental car pulls up next, and I walk over to help my dad and Georgette extract Nona from the back of the car.

Felicia and I planned the day so that we’d split into two groups.

The groups were formed to meet Felicia’s specifications.

But also, in part, to keep Ellen and me separated.

I’ll be with the grandmothers and my sisters while the bride and her girlfriends will be with the Ellen and the MOB.

This way, I will only have to see Ellen at lunch.

“Hi Dad. Thanks for driving the VIP’s.” I smile at the two ladies in question. Damn, even with my sunglasses, my smile hurts my face. Ugh. Never again with the wine. The persistent nausea just feels inevitable. Make better choices, Lily.

“Hi Lily.” Dad surprises me by giving me a big hug. “Are you doing better than last night?”

“I’m sober, as you can see, so that’s a start.”

He clasps my hands in between us with more emotion than I’m used to from him. “If you need to talk about anything Lily, I’m here. I know you have your grandmother now, but if you need your father…”

Emotion thickens my voice. “When would I stop needing my dad?”

I know I could say, where were you before and many other things to him, but what good would that do anyone now? Without hesitation, I make a choice that will, I hope, move me forward and further from the past and I throw my arms around his neck, and kiss his cheek.

“Thanks Dad.”

Before I’m overcome with feelings, I turn to Nona and Georgette.

“Let’s go check in.”

The three of us walked arm in arm into the spa and I found Molly, the manager who had helped me coordinate the day.

We walk right past Ellen, who is looking icily at my father’s retreating rental car.

Before she can send whatever glare she has in store for me, I turn away to count heads with Molly and help her divide the women present into the two groups.

As I go through the motions, I am doing my best to disassociate from my terrific hangover.

This morning, I woke up retching and used several of my migraine antiemetics, as well as a couple of sports drinks I had on hand for the hikes I planned to do later in the week.

I’m an improved version of myself, but I am in no way near the top of my game.

I feel ill, vulnerable, and in desperate need of further hydration as well as a massage.

Having divided up into two groups, we separate for different activities.

My group is going for manicures and pedicures first. My sisters make small talk with me while we pick colors.

Tamar, of course, reminds us not to clash with our navy-blue color scheme.

I pick navy blue and hope to avoid further conversation with anyone.

Seating myself in the most out of the way chair possible I wait quietly for my technician with my eyes closed.

I have about four different medications on board to fight off the nausea and headache I woke up with.

So far, I seem to be improving, so I continue hydrating with a sports drink clutched in my hands.

Georgette makes her way over to me and takes the chair next to mine.

“Hi Georgette.”

“Hello Lily dear.” She smiles briefly, and I sense a lecture coming my way.

Thankfully she doesn’t start one, however.

Our technicians get to work, and everyone is chatting away while instrumental music featuring a flute softly plays through the speakers built into the ceiling.

The lights are mercifully low, and the vibe is calming enough that I start to doze off.

I wake up when Georgette and I move over to the table to transition to manicures.

“Did you enjoy the party last night?” I ask her.

“I enjoyed seeing everyone. I do miss the days when we all got together. I think Rose had a nice time as well. She’s very happy to be reconnection with your siblings.”

“Well, I for one am so grateful that Felicia and Eddie decided to do their wedding out here. It has…well. So many things have changed for me because of it.”

“Including reconnecting you and my son.”

“Yes. We could say that.”

We don’t say anything for a few minutes when she says, “That was quite an entrance you made last night.”

“Yeah. I was feeling nervous and… I had way too much to drink.” Warmth heats my face as embarrassment blooms on my cheeks.

“Mmm.” I feel her looking at the side of my head.

“Lily.”

“Yes, Georgette.”

“You know, my son is still very much in love with you.”

I finally glance at her and she smiles kindly. She must not know he and I were a failure. Damn, this is awkward. Do I tell her? Not my circus, not my monkeys.

“I don’t think so. We’re just friends. It’s complicated and…

your son is a wonderful man. But things between us are not meant to be.

I mean he told me he was having feelings but he had also told me he doesn’t really fall in love.

” Read I turned him down and now he’ can smash my hotter, more successful cousin.

“He didn’t want to fall in love. That’s not the same thing as lacking the ability to. He fought it, I know. He was afraid because of what happened between Ralph and I. That kind of thing… it leaves wounds.”

She is quiet for a little while, and I nearly doze off in my chair when she asks, “Have you ever treated a bad animal bite or a similar contaminated wound?”

Well, that is a non-sequitur. “Um, sure. Of course.”

She continues, “Okay so you know, sometimes the wound has to be left open and closed later—secondary or delayed intention, I believe they call it.”

“That’s right. The wound needs to heal from the inside out.”

“Mm.” She sighs. “Some emotional wounds are like that too. They take longer to heal, but as long as you are patient, allowing a natural process, it can heal correctly over time. If you simply closed the wound, it would fester from the inside.”

“Georgette, you need to know, I’m not the woman that can really win over your son’s heart, if anyone can. No offense.”

“My dear, let me be equally direct. You both have issues with commitment and it’s no wonder. These challenges take real work and time to begin to heal well. I may not know all the details, nor am I asking, but you’ve changed this year. You both have.”

Leaning forward, I stare down at her. “I literally drank my weight in wine last night—a bottle which was meant to be a gift by the way. I did that because I was nervous about having a coffee with Josh. That’s hardly a ringing endorsement for a stable and loving partner, wouldn’t you say?”

“And I didn’t say either of you are perfect or even all the way healed.” Her nails are finished, and she stands to move to the drying station. She pauses to kiss the top of my head. “You’re a good woman, Lily Shoshana.”

Healing by delayed intention. I shake my head to myself. That may be the most accurate description of my life I’ve heard. Not sure if it applies to Josh but it sure does me. Why did I turn him down? Again I picture him walking into the wedding venue with Jenny and my stomach drops.