A little peek into the married life of Travis & Abby Maddox.
THE MIRROR WHINED AS I wiped away the condensation with a towel. I’d spent extra time under the hot water of the shower, just as I spent extra time driving home from class, and extra time finding the perfect gift for Travis. Nothing about today would be rushed. I would savor every moment with my husband.
My husband. Even after almost a
year, the title still sounded so foreign and so natural at the same time. If
anyone had told me when I came to college that I would end up married before
the end of my freshman year, I would have given them the finger. Some people
just aren’t the marrying type. I’m one of them, and so is Travis. Somehow,
though, we not only made it work, the last year was the happiest of my life.
The towel fell to the floor, and I
looked down, inspecting the dark, elegant lines on skin. My fingers tugged
gently, making the ink stretch, and then I let go, running over each delicate
curve with my fingertip. I was still Mrs. Maddox, and not once did regret
coincide with my memory of getting that tattoo, or my crazy idea to run off to
Vegas and get married. Not only was it right after a tragedy, I swore I would
never go back to Las Vegas. But that godforsaken city was the perfect backdrop
for both of us to let go of our demons and start fresh. Leaving all of that behind
was so symbolic, and I couldn’t imagine doing it any other way.
Just after I finished blow drying my
hair, my cell phone buzzed against the corner of the sink. America’s name lit
up the display.
“Hello?”
“Hiya! I can’t talk long. Shep just
got home and he’s already bugging me to leave. I just wanted to tell you happy
Valentine’s Day since you guys aren’t going tonight. Just because you’re
married doesn’t mean you can’t go to the frat parties anymore, ya know.”
“I know, but they were never really
Trav’s thing, and they definitely aren’t mine. We don’t want to spend our first
Valentine’s day at a kegger, Mare.”
“Don’t forget, it was last year’s
Sig Tau Valentine’s kegger that sparked a reunion with you and Mr. Maddox.”
The memory came back in vivid detail.
. . . and to the absolute fucking
horror of losing your best friend because you were stupid enough to fall in
love with her.
Well I belong to you! . . . I belong
to you.
America’s voice jarred me back to
the present. “Don’t judge me. At least we’re not freshmen anymore, and Shepley
doesn’t have to run around like a fucking cabana boy.”
I giggled at the visual, and then
looked down at my watch. Travis would be home any minute. “The good ol’ days.”
“Anyway . . . like I said, I can’t
stay on the phone long, but I forgot to mention it earlier in class, in part
because I was trying to keep up with Dr. Hunter’s 300 miles per hour lecture,
and because your in every single class with your stupid husband, so we
have no privacy anymore.”
I smiled. Coordinating our school
schedules made it easier to carpool and to study, but I wasn’t clueless.
Putting a ring on my finger let Travis relax some, but he hadn’t done a total
one-eighty. Any passes made at me were few and far between, but Travis was
Travis, and whatever respect he demanded toward me as his friend, and later his
girlfriend, was tenfold as his wife.
“Happy Valentine’s Day to you and
Shep, Mare. Still liking the new apartment?”
She sighed. “I love it.”
“Got a ring yet?”
“Hell no.”
I laughed. Shepley was happy for us
when we returned, but he was terrified that America would expect him to
propose. Lucky for him, America had a bigger aversion to getting married before
age thirty than he did.
“Travis will be home soon.”
“Yeah,” she breathed. “I better go,
too. Love ya.”
I set the phone back on the sink and
frowned, knowing I would have to rush, now. Just as I finished curling the last
bit of my hair, the door knob made a series of jiggling and gouging noises, a
signal that Travis was home. Dozens of tiny clicking noises scurried across the
floor, and then transferred to the door. Toto sat on the recliner, waiting and
watching from the window every day at this time. Once the key entered the lock,
Toto would scramble from the chair to the door, waiting to celebrate Travis’s
arrival.
Travis would drop me off after
classes and then go to work for a few hours in the evenings. Travis’s last
fight usually kept him comfortable for a while, but because of the fire at
Hellerton, he didn’t get paid. My savings were depleted because of Mick’s
antics the year before, and The Circle had been disbanded since the fire.
Travis promised not to fight, anyway, but we had gone from living well, to
living on student loans and part-time jobs. It wasn’t horrible, but it was an
adjustment.
We both tutored in the evenings—I
helped struggling students with algebra and calculus of varying difficulty;
Travis tutored in everything else—but most of our bills were paid from the
money he made writing papers. Illegal and risky jobs paid best, and old habits
die hard.
Travis’s boots took three quick
steps into the apartment, and then they retreated. A scuffling noise made the
corners of my mouth turn up. The first snow of the season left two inches of
muddy slush on the ground, and he knew I’d cleaned this morning so I wouldn’t
have to do it after classes. He was wiping his boots.
“Baby! You home?”
“I’m home!” I lilted, pulling up my
lashes with the mascara wand just so.
He knocked on the bathroom door.
“Don’t come in!”
He groaned. “I haven’t seen you all
day!”
“You saw me three hours ago.”
After a short pause, Travis tapped
on the door with his finger. “I see a gift out there. I’m guessing it’s for
me?”
“No, it’s for Toto.”
“That’s not nice!”
I laughed. “Yes, Trav, it’s for
you.”
“I have something for you, too, so
hurry your ass up.”
“Perfection takes time.”
“If you saw yourself in the morning,
you would know that’s not true.”
Fifteen minutes later, I was
slipping the red baby doll dress that I’d borrowed from America over my head,
and then walked into the living room where Travis stood. He was watching the
television, remote in one hand, a bottle of beer in the other. My poker face
was no match for the fact that he was wearing a tie. It was official: I had
seen everything.
Travis caught a glance of me from
the corner of his eye and then turned.
“Stunning. I am a lucky, lucky man,”
he said, walking toward me until I was in his arms. His lips gently pressed
against mine, and then they traveled across my cheek, past my ear, and then
down my neck to my collar bone.
“You’re wearing a tie,” I said
softly.
He pulled away and looked down. “Do
I look like a jackhole?”
“No. You look . . . I’m considering
suggesting we just stay in.”
He smiled, and proudly ran his hand
down his tie. “That good, huh?” He grabbed my hand. “That sounds pretty fucking
amazing, but we have reservations. C’mon.”
He led me out by the hand, pausing
at the door to help me with my coat. February had been particularly brutal. If
it wasn’t raining or sleeting, the sky was dumping feet-deep snow. Travis
helped me down the stairs, making sure I didn’t slip in my stilettos, but when
we reached the sidewalk, he lifted me into his arms.
I laced my fingers behind his neck,
nuzzling my nose just under his earlobe. He smelled incredible. The more I
thought about it, the more I thought we should stay home.
Within half an hour, we were sitting
at the bar of Rizoli’s, a local Italian restaurant. Travis bringing me to
Parker’s parents’ restaurant’s competition had crossed my mind, but I decided
against mentioning it. The place was packed, but we were fortunate to find a
couple of empty seats at the bar while we waited for our table.
I took a sip from my straw, and
noticed Travis frowning. “What’s wrong?”
“I wanted tonight to be special.
This is kind of lame.”
“Lame? This is one of my favorite
restaurants.”
“Yeah, but it’s still . . . average.
I wanted our first Valentine’s to be, I don’t know, remarkable, I guess? Look
at all of the people here, doing the same thing we are.”
“That’s not a bad thing.”
A woman yelled over the dozens of
conversations humming throughout the room. “Maddox?”
“C’mon,” Travis said, stepping off
his bar stool. He held out his hand. “Let’s go.”
“But,” I said, pointing to the woman.
“She just called our name.”
Travis smiled, his dimple sinking
into his cheek. “C’mon, Pidge.”
Without another word, I stepped down
and grabbed his hand, following him outside. He stopped only to grab dinner
from a drive-thru, and then he continued. Turn after turn, Travis was headed to
the college.
“You’re not taking me to the Sig Tau
date party, are you?”
Travis’s face screwed into disgust.
I had an idea of where we were
headed when we were still blocks away, but it wasn’t until Travis parked our car
in front of Bartlen Hall that I knew exactly what he was up to.
“You’re kidding, right?”
“Nope,” he said, slamming the
driver’s side door and then running around to open mine.
Travis took my hand, and we quickly
and quietly made our way around the back of the building.
“No,” I said, staring at the open
basement window.
Travis had already backed in and
jumped down before I could protest further. “C’mon, Pigeon!”
Snow was still on the ground. I was
going to be wet and cold and instantly cranky. “No way!”
Travis’s hand shot out from the
darkness of the basement like a cat reaching out from under a door. “It’ll be
like old times!”
“Not just no, Travis. Hell no.”
“It’s getting lonely down here.”
“This is a horrible idea.”
“You’re messing up my plan!”
“You’re insane! This isn’t even my
dress, and you’re asking me to ruin it!”
“It’s a little early in the night
for that.”
I could almost hear him trying not
to laugh. I crossed my arms. After a long pause, Travis’s voice, low and
desperate, floated up from the window. “Please?”
I rolled my eyes. “Fine.”
Two backwards scoots, a squeal, and
a fall later, I was in Travis’s arms in the basement of Bartlen—the building
where we met for the first time.
Travis used his cell phone to light
the way, and I followed him down a series of hallways. Finally one of the halls
opened up into a large, familiar room. Without the yelling and drunken frat
boys shoulder to shoulder, it seemed bigger, and less . . . sweaty.
I could almost hear Adam’s voice
blaring through the bullhorn, and feel the way the energy exploded once Travis
entered the room. I thought about the blood spraying my cardigan, and my eyes
leaving the cashmere to fall on a pair of black boots.
Travis pulled me to the center of
the room. The memory of him wiping the blood from my face and pushing away
anyone who came near me replayed in my mind.
“Pigeon,” Travis said, almost the
same time as he said the word in my memory.
“This is where it all started.”
“Where I saw you for the first time.
When you turned my whole fucking world upside down.” He leaned down to kiss my
cheek, and then he handed me a small box. “It’s not much. I’ve been saving for
it, though.”
I opened it, and a wide, ridiculous
grin spread across my face. It was a charm bracelet.
“It’s the story of us,” he said.
A sweater, a pair of dice, a green
bead with shamrocks on it. I looked to Travis.
“That’s supposed to signify our
bet,” he said, pointing to the dice, “and that one is for the first night we
danced,” he said, pointing to a red bead.
The next charm was a motorcycle; the
next a heart. “For the first time I said I loved you?”
“Yep.” He seemed pleased that I’d
figured it out on my own.
“And this one?” I said, pointing to
a deck of cards. “Poker night at dad’s?” Travis smiled again. The next was a
turkey, and I laughed. The next bead was plain black.
“For the time we spent apart. The
darkest time of my life.”
The next was a flame charm. I didn’t
like to think about the fire, but it was a part of our story, and so it was a
part of us. The next charm was a ring.
I looked up at him. “This is pretty
amazing.”
“There’s room for more. These are
just the beginning of our story, Pidge.”
I put the bracelet around my wrist.
Travis helped with the clasp, and then he fiddled with his phone for a moment,
setting it on a small table a few feet away. He placed my hands on his
shoulders, and then the music began to play. It was the song we danced to at my
birthday party the year before.
“I had no idea,” I said.
“What?”
“That you were so sentimental.”
“Yes you did.”
I leaned my head against his
shoulder, happy that this time I could kiss him when the song was over. Once
the music stopped and I touched my lips to his, I handed him a plain, red sack.
“I should have given you this first. The bracelet is a hard act to follow.”
“It doesn’t matter what it is,
Pigeon. You’ve already given me everything I’ve ever wanted.”
