No Family of Mine: Part Four

Will Priscilla stay with Chase?

It’s 7:32 a.m. I’m sitting on the edge of my bed, fully dressed, heart racing, twiddling my thumbs. Last night, when I ran into Mr. Nelson and Ms. Not-Sheila he asked me to meet him for coffee at 8 a.m. Although this threw a hefty wrench in my morning writing plans, I agreed because I’d like to know what the hell is going on.

I could hardly sleep because it feels like I’m about to get grounded. Why do I feel like I’m in the wrong? I definitely felt like I saw something I wasn’t supposed to see.

And I love Mrs. Sheila.

Am I supposed to look her in the eyes for the next two days and act…regular?

She is the backbone of this family. She makes sure everything stays afloat, and everyone feels heard, loved, and well-fed. She’s the epitome of a homemaker, and what is she left with? A man who sneaks off in the middle of the night with another woman on a family trip and two sons who teeter on the line of incompetence?

Suddenly, I start comparing myself to her. I could easily end up in this boat. I’m in a long-term relationship with a man [that she raised] who makes me feel like an afterthought.

I start to spiral.

Who even wants to have adult sleepovers with cousins? Aren’t cousin walks good enough? They don’t even speak on the phone that often. Something isn’t adding up…

My phone vibrates. It’s a good morning text from Chase. My brain is split between being appreciative and wondering if he’s being slick.

I decide to free my mind and take a walk. Once I lap my floor twice, I head down to the dining hall to grab a Green Levine.

Well, at least that was the plan.

I get to the lobby level, and at the elevator directly across from mine, I see Mr. Nelson and Ms. Not-Sheila kissing.

Although I knew he was being sneaky, a part of me was hoping he’d tell me otherwise. I do that a lot. Try to convince myself an unfavorable situation isn’t what I know that it is. If I weren’t sitting here staring at these two make out, I might have gobbled up any lies he may try to tell me. Why must I confuse being open to talk with being open to believing?

As these thoughts are circulating I forget I’m staring at Mr. Nelson. Maybe he feels my stare because he looks straight in my direction while straddling first base with his girlfriend, and we lock eyes.

Oh, my fucking gosh.

I’m unable to walk away, look away, or pick my jaw up off the floor. Honestly, I don’t even know if I’m still breathing.

He doesn’t pull away from the kiss, nor does he pull his eyes off mine. It’s as if he’s telling me that my new knowledge won’t affect his life. After a few moments, I remove myself from this telepathic conversation by sprinting around the nearest corner.

I find the cafe and sit at one of the velvety booths in front of the window that faces the mountains. When the server comes, I order a Green Levine, a butterfly lemongrass latte, and a cardamom bun. I try to sink back into the trance that engulfed me when I met Jaxon, but it isn’t working.

I was supposed to fall back in love on this trip, rediscover the spark with Chase, perfectly fit in with his family, and move in with him. But every hour, I receive new information that withdraws this reality from my reach. Something about the Lake Tahoe trees breathes realization into me.

“Priscilla.” Mr. Nelson says.

I didn’t even see him walk up. Now, he’s standing in front of me on the empty side of the booth.

“Hi”, I say.

“May I have a seat?” He asks in a scarily normal tone.

“Please.”

“So, what happened at the hotel? Chase didn’t get you guys a new room?” He asks.

I don’t understand his angle. He’s speaking to me as if what I saw wasn’t the hottest tea of the year.

“Chase ran off with his cousins, the receptionist realized the rooms were double booked while I was still in the lobby, and I couldn’t get ahold of anyone to let y’all know.”

“That’s awful, Priscilla. We will reimburse you for your stay here. Send the receipt when you get it.” He says as he pours the complimentary coffee from the kettle into a mug.

“What happened with you last night?” I ask nervously.

Mr. Nelson laughs “I’ve always loved your directness.”

I stare at him waiting for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t.

“How do you know that lady?” I ask, but not confidently. I have no idea if my questions will strike a chord.

“We met at a work convention three years ago. It was strictly professional— until it wasn’t. She’s smart, ambitious, inspiring, and not like anyone I’ve ever met before.” He says with confidence.

He sounds like he respects her. I’ve never seen him be affectionate with Mrs. Sheila. Initially, I assumed it was because he wasn’t the affectionate type, but from the looks of it that isn’t true.

“When did your relationship start?” I ask.

“About six months ago—officially. I think I’ve loved her since I met her, though.” He says.

I’m taken aback. He’s speaking to me as if I’m one of his little homeboys. I can’t tell if he’s impenetrably comfortable with his situation or has been keeping these words to himself for months.

“Does your wife know?” I ask, emphasizing the word wife.