Honeymoon Suiteness

"Honey, we don't need to deal with all this stuff," said Bryan Shaughnessy, pushing the list across the coffee table. "At least not right now. We can get back to it in the morning."

Meghan gave him the same icy stare he'd seen a hundred times. He had foolishly hoped he would see less of it after proposing to her, but it seemed that as they planned their wedding, Meghan's evil eyes had appeared with more frequency and intensity.

"In the morning?" Meghan looked as though Bryan was confessing to a murder. "We have a month to go, and we still have tons left to do. What am I going to tell the venue? They need to know what we've picked!"

Bryan tried to stay calm. After all, he was going to be spending quite a lot of time with this woman in the future. He had to learn how to work with her.

"We need these wine glasses," Meghan shot back. She slowed down and talked to Bryan like he was a child. "Otherwise, we won't be able to serve wine."

"You know what I meant, Honey," Bryan replied. "We can get almost any style, and people are going to have a good time."

Meghan knew he was right, but all the same, she stormed out of the room, leaving Bryan in a familiar state of helplessness. He and Meghan had been fighting a lot lately. In situations like this, he'd normally call Bridget, but his sister was out of the country. She had taken a trip to Ireland with her university's architecture club, and she wouldn't return until a week before the wedding. It was one last hurrah for Bridget, who was set to graduate at the end of the summer. She only needed to finish one online course, which she could complete from abroad. After that, she would start job hunting. She talked about traveling to the rest of Europe, or Japan, or Australia... just about anywhere. Bryan's honeymoon to Cancun was about all he would really be able to do in terms of travel, given Meghan's work schedule. Bridget, however, would go crazy staying in one place like that. She wanted to see the whole world.

It made sense to Bryan. They had money from the will and from the settlement, after their father's accident. Neither of their parents had any siblings, so their two kids never had aunts or uncles or cousins. If it weren't for Bryan, their mother, and a few college friends, Bridget wouldn't be tied down at all. She was cheated of a normal life in many ways; why shouldn't she get something back?

Bryan badly wanted to contact his sister. An e-mail could reach her, but it wouldn't carry the same personal connection he wanted. Besides, she couldn't do anything to help him this time. The last time he called Bridget, it was the same problem: Meghan was freaking out about the wedding, and left the apartment in anger. Bryan dialed his sister, who wasted no time in getting to his front door.

That time, Bridget stayed longer than usual. The two siblings watched a movie together, and Bridget found herself curled up against her brother's chest. Bryan remembered stroking her wavy black hair a bit as the movie went on, and how they caressed each other lightly for a few minutes. Bryan knew it was borderline inappropriate, but he shrugged it off; he was engaged, and Bridget was family. Also, though he struggled to admit it to himself, he found himself overcome with a curious attraction to his sister. They had always been close, having grown up without a father, and only separated in age by two years. Bryan could always rationalize any feelings he had toward Bridget as regular brother-sister stuff. It was no secret he cared a great deal about her, and their movie cuddling session was merely evidence of that.

That was a week ago. The following day, she left for the airport, and Bryan stayed in Ohio with his fiancé, who was becoming increasingly difficult to deal with.

Bryan thought back to the time he and Meghan met. Bryan had taken a bit of a leap by agreeing to hit a local bar for happy hour after work. They were all talking about the red-headed bombshell in the corner, discussing who should go talk her up. Bryan was 23 years old and stupid, so he decided he was the man for the job. While the others chatted, Bryan waltzed over to the redhead, and found her even more striking than before. At 5 feet 8 inches and a generous bust size, with shoulder-length red hair, the young woman seemingly lacked nothing in the looks department. Bryan introduced himself, and discovered that the knockout standing in front of him was named Meghan Matthews. Bryan supposed that, as a fairly decent-looking man, he had as good a shot as any. His fair skin wouldn't do him any favors, but his dark hair and fit 6-foot-2-inch stature should help him out. Besides, women like a man with a good personality and sense of humor right? Bryan did his best to be charming, and it worked. Meghan left her ten digits on a receipt, and they were engaged seven months later.

In retrospect, seven months was way, way too fast.

In the following months, Bryan came to realize just how many issues he and Meghan had to work through. He valued hard work, though, and marriage was hard work. Though he wished he had waited to propose, Bryan didn't see any value in backing out now. Sure, Meghan was neurotic and somewhat controlling. Sure, she was a tad selfish in bed. But they'd work these things out like adults.

But was she really an adult? Every time he tried to bring up these issues, she shut him down. Bridget had always been there to remind him why he was doing all this.

"She makes you happy, right?" Bridget once asked her brother. Bryan nodded hesitantly. "Then you have to take the good with bad." Bridget gave the half-smile that melted Bryan every time he saw it. How could he say no to her? Bryan didn't know how happy Meghan really made him, though. Was he getting married just to get married? Was it because she was so attractive that he didn't think he could do better? Bryan looked back at his adorable sister, and relented. He couldn't disappoint her, not after all they'd been through. He told her that yes, he'd take the good with the bad.

But Bridget wasn't here this time. Bryan didn't have close male friends anymore; ever since he and Meghan got together, Bryan lost touch with his old college buddies. He had his mother, but Bridget was always closer to mom than he was. Bryan didn't feel that he could go to his mother for relationship advice. It was only Bridget.

He thought back to a conversation they once had. Bryan asked Bridget what she planned to do after school, besides travel. She told him that she figured she'd find the right man and settle down, maybe have kids. Bryan concentrated harder, and recalled the specific words she used: "When I'm lucky enough to find a guy like you, we'll make a life for each other." Bryan had always figured he would find a girl like Bridget: funny, spontaneous, insightful, charming, beautiful. While Meghan was beautiful - by many standards the most beautiful woman he knew - she was nothing like Bridget. Bridget was pretty in her own right. While she didn't stun every guy who walked by, she could get most guys' attention at least. After that, it was a matter of personality... and her eyes. Bridget's shimmering blue eyes could melt the heart of every man in history, Bryan was convinced. Meghan seemed colder, more career-driven, more ambitious. He didn't think these were necessarily bad things, but he knew he would always compare her to his sister. Meghan didn't measure up.

For the first time in a while, Bryan was seriously doubting whether this was all the right thing. He went to his liquor cabinet and grabbed the Jameson. Irish whiskey for a saddened Irish man. It seemed fitting. Bryan threw back a small glass, probably too quickly. Then he had another, and another. Soon, he found himself in and out of consciousness, contemplating his impending marriage to a woman he wasn't sure he truly loved.

The next thing Bryan knew, there was a loud BANG BANG BANG at the front door of his apartment. A woman shouted, "Bryan, are you in there? Answer your phone!" Bryan tried to compose himself. He saw the Jameson on the counter, half empty, and began to piece together what had happened. But what surprised him was that, as he stood up, he didn't have a headache. He always got terrible hangovers after blacking out. So... he wasn't hung over.

He was still drunk. And Meghan wasn't going to like that.

He lumbered toward the door, and stood there for a minute. Meghan continued slamming on the door until Bryan opened it.

"Hey Honey," he managed to blurt out. Meghan gave him a suspicious look before she smelled it.

"You're drunk," she stated matter-of-factly. Meghan stood there looking as angry as Bryan had ever seen her. She saw the Jameson on the counter. "You're really, really fucking drunk. I called you eight times, you asshole."

Bryan realized he'd left his phone in his bedroom, and that he slept in the living room. This wasn't going well. "Baby, I'm so sorry. After last night, I just..."

"You just what?" Meghan accused. "You just decided to get wasted because you and your sister couldn't talk about how much of a bitch I am?"

That was too far. Bryan perked up a bit, and realized he wasn't as drunk as he thought. "Whoa, honey. What is that supposed to mean?" Meghan's arms were folded defensively, but Bryan kept at it. "I talk to Bridget when I'm feeling down, yeah. But we don't talk about that. She loves you! She's the one who always reminds me why I love you!"

As soon as he said it, Bryan knew how poor a choice of words he used.

"Reminded? You need your sister to remind you that you love me?" Meghan had gone from furious, to hurt, to both in a span of five seconds. "So what are we going to do when she's not around? What happens when we're married and Bridget is off on some stupid trip and we have a fight? Are you gonna just get shitfaced again?"

Bryan didn't have a good answer for that. He had no idea what he'd do without Bridget. The time she'd been gone was already hell for him. It occurred to Bryan that his sister meant more to him than his fiancé, which scared him. What scared him even more was the mere idea that Bridget would continue to be away for long periods of time, and he'd be stuck with Meghan.

"Well, what are we going to do then?" Meghan's bottom lip began to quiver. "When you can't go to your sister when you don't feel like dealing with me?"

For perhaps the first time in their relationship, Bryan knew that he was about to say what Meghan didn't want to hear, and said it anyway.

"I don't know," Bryan said. Meghan stood in the doorway, tears falling down her face. She reached her right hand toward her left, and began to slip the ring off her finger.

"I think we did this all too fast," Meghan said, "and I don't think you're ready to be a husband right now." She handed the ring back to Bryan. "I'm sorry. I have to go. If you want to call later when you're sober, I'm willing to listen."

That was it. Bryan stood in the doorway for a minute. Or five minutes, or twenty. He shut the door, and lumbered back to his bedroom. He didn't shed a single tear. He just thought about how many mistakes he'd made, how he wished he could go back in time and never propose, and how he wished his sister was here to comfort him.

Bryan woke again, but there was no light coming into his room this time. It was evening, and the only source of light was his bedside lamp. The memories rushed back to Bryan, who raced to his phone and found Meghan on speed dial.

"Hi honey," Bryan said into the speaker. "I'm sorry about this morning. I let myself get carried away after our fight, and that's not okay."

At first, Meghan said nothing, but after a few seconds, Bryan heard her voice from the other end. "Bryan, I know this isn't the first time you've felt that way. This isn't our first fight, and it won't be the last. A marriage works when the two people can resolve their conflicts."

"You're right," Bryan replied, "We don't do that very well, do we?"

"Not as well as we need to," Meghan responded.

Bryan briefly considered suggesting couples therapy, but deep down, he really didn't want to go through that with her. And why hadn't Meghan suggested it? It seemed like the obvious answer to their problems.

But if it was so obvious, then why couldn't either of them make the suggestion? It was then that Bryan saw that the real solution to their problems had already been delivered. It was over between him and Meghan.

"So that's it, huh?"

"I'll cancel what arrangements I can," Meghan said. "I'm sorry about Cancun. I think you should still go, if you think it'll help."

Bryan hadn't even considered their honeymoon up until now. Meghan was quick to point it out; perhaps she had been thinking about this course of action for a long time. Either way, it pained Bryan to think about going on a honeymoon without his bride. He figured that if he went, he would spend the entire time thinking about the mistakes he had made.

Bryan sat down in front of his computer. Almost instinctively, he began an e-mail to his little sister. He needed her now more than ever, but she was going to be gone for another few weeks. Still, if she could reach a telephone and make a long-distance call - if he could just talk to her for a little while, he knew it would help.

Bryan's e-mail indicated the best times to reach him. After he finished it, he called his mother to give her the disappointing news. Bryan knew it would be tough on mom, since she had been so thrilled when he "finally brought a girl home." She was ecstatic that her baby boy was going to be married. Bryan didn't know how to tell her.

When the time came, he just said it. "Meghan broke off the engagement, and it looks like we're done for good as a couple."

"Oh, honey, I'm so sorry," mom said over the phone. "I don't know what to say. I'm coming over right away."

"No mom," Bryan replied. "I just want to be alone for a while." That was mostly a lie. Bryan didn't want to be alone; he wanted his sister to be by his side. And while he thought company might help, he still didn't want to face his mother's disappointment right now. Over the phone, it was easier to maintain the illusion that she wasn't even disappointed at all, and that he was in control of his emotions.

"Ok, honey," she said. "I'll be thinking of you, and whenever you're ready, we'll have a big dinner at home to help you feel better. And we'll talk." She paused for a moment. "I love you so much."

"Thanks, mom." Bryan hung up and returned to his computer. Three new e-mails. Two of them were junk mail. Or job offers, or warrants for his arrest for all he cared. He would never have noticed them, because the third one was from Bridget. He began to read:

"I'm so sorry, Baby! I'm coming home as soon as I can. There's a plane leaving tomorrow morning, and I think I can get to Dayton Airport by Thursday morning. I'll see you soon!"

At first, Bryan paused at the word "baby." An odd choice coming from his sister, but he supposed this was an overwhelming situation for her. His next thoughts focused on the topic at hand: she was coming home. Bridget was bailing on her Ireland trip to console her dumb older brother. Bryan couldn't let that happen. He messaged her back, saying that she needed to stay, and she could just call him. In truth, he badly wanted her to be back in Dayton as soon as possible, but that wasn't fair.

She was quick to respond again, and she was adamant. "Ireland will still be here the next time I want to come, and so will the money. I need to see you. I'm coming home. End of story." In that way, she was a little bit like Meghan. Though she didn't have many major ambitions, when she found something she really did want, she found a way to get it. The young woman was determined.

After an excruciating day and a half of waiting, Bryan drove to the airport just outside of their home city. Dayton was considered by many to be the birthplace of flight, and the town took pride in its history of aviation. Much of that pride was reflected in its airport. When Bryan arrived a few minutes early, he strolled around the concourse beneath massive models of early planes. Thankfully, Bridget wasn't stuck on one of those old death traps. According to the monitors, her 747 had just arrived from New York, where Bridget had connected to from Dublin. Bryan headed to her flight's baggage claim area, and looked for her signature maroon suitcase the size of a small bear. The monstrosity was hard to miss, and sure enough, Bryan spotted it the moment it came onto the conveyor belt. As he approached, a young woman's voice called out from behind him, "I think that one's mine."

Bryan turned 180 degrees to find his sister standing there, with nothing but sympathy and love on her face. Though clearly jet-lagged, Bryan thought she looked as beautiful as ever. Bridget's black hair tumbled past her fair-skinned and ever-so-slightly freckled face and over her shoulders. Her bright blue eyes completed her wild Irish look, giving the impression that she could have been a fresh immigrant, rather than a tourist coming home.

"Thank you so much," Bryan managed to say. "You didn't have to."

Bridget's eyebrows raised even more to highlight her sympathy. "Of course I did," she said. She gave a Bryan a quick smile and rushed in to embrace him. "I'm so sorry. This must be the absolute worst."

Not at the moment, it wasn't. The two days prior had been the worst. This day was much better now. Bryan held his sister close to him for several minutes. They exchanged some more words of sorrow and sympathy and love. When they eventually parted, Bryan took a long look at his sister. At 5-feet, 7-inches, she stood at a complementary height for her brother. Her necklace of the crucifix was barely visible, mostly covered up by her t-shirt. The girl had retained more of their Catholic upbringing than Bryan, enough that she at least wanted to travel with a spiritual keepsake when she could remember. Bridget didn't take the practice too seriously, but there are some interesting sayings about old habits that applied in this case.

Bryan realized that neither of them had grabbed Bridget's suitcase. He located it again quickly, and hauled it off of the machine and across the concourse. The damn thing was big for him; how did his sister, lug this thing across Ireland? He let it go, and they packed up the car and headed home.

But where was home? They could go back to Bryan's apartment and hang out, but Bryan had a better idea. Bridget was back on the other side of town living with their mother.

"So mom said that when I'm ready, she'd make me a big dinner," Bryan told his sister in the car. "I'm thinking I take her up on that offer today. What do you think?"

"Oooh, I love that idea!" Bridget said, beaming back at her brother.

"Wait, does mom know you're home yet?" Bryan asked. In all of the confusion and depression, he'd forgotten to tell their mother that Bridget was on her way back from Ireland.

"I didn't tell her," Bridget said calmly. "I figured you would. I'll call her up right now and let her know the plan."

Bridget fiddled around with her phone a bit. "Hi mom," she said. "It's your daughter." Bryan heard an excited and audibly surprised woman on the other end. "Yeah, I'm actually in Ohio right now." Bryan was able to make out a "why" or a "what" on the other end. Bridget turned to look at Bryan during the next part. "Well, your son e-mailed me and told me what happened. I couldn't stay out of the country, mom. I just couldn't do that." Bryan couldn't make out what their mother was saying on the other end, but the way Bridget insisted again that she had to see her brother warmed his heart.

Bridget continued, "So he said that you'd make us a big dinner if he was feeling up for it, and he's right next to me, telling me he that he is." Their mother squealed with excitement on the other end. She loved cooking for guests, especially her children. "Ok," Bridget concluded, "see you soon. We'll be there around 4:00."