Poppy's Diary

Chapter 2

Chapter 2

THE PROPOSAL DID NOT go as planned.

When I picked up Kristen at the airport, she was tired and cranky from the flight. I could have been tired and cranky, too, after driving all the way out there, but I made the choice not to be. That is a possibility, you know. You can just choose to not be irritable after your girlfriend has come to collect you from your plane.

Kristen didn't even hug or kiss me. The moment she laid eyes on me, her face took on a sour expression and she clomped in my direction with her wheelie luggage and her backpack. When she complained about how heavy it was, I asked if I could carry it for her, but she just grumbled, “No, it's fine.”

If it's fine, don't complain about it. But whatever. Doesn't matter. It's not like that was the worst thing that happened this weekend.

I knew Kristen would want to rest after we returned to my apartment, so I'd built a little nap time into our proposal night schedule. She took off her clothes and got into my bed. Once I was n***d too, I followed her under the covers. I wrapped my arms around her, but she turned onto her side, facing away from me. I moved in closer, pressing my n***d breasts against her back, but she didn't react to that in any way.

“Are you sleeping?” I asked her.

“Trying to,” she said.

My hands crept toward her breasts. I cupped them as I said, “I guess you're not in the mood for...?”

“No,” she replied, cutting me off before I could even figure out how to phrase that question.

I didn't move my hands away from her breasts, just in case she changed her mind, but she soon rolled onto her front and buried her head in the pillow. Was she sleeping or just faking it? Did she even want to be here this weekend?

With so much on my mind, I couldn't hope to sleep in the middle of the afternoon. Anyway, I've never been much of a napper. I can sleep no problem in the night time, but not during the day—not even when I work the graveyard shift at the hotel.

If the sun's out, I'm up.

When I snuck out of bed and put my clothes back on, Kristen rolled onto her back. I could see that she really was asleep, at that point. The covers were down around her hips, which drew my gaze to her n***d skin. I don't get to see Kristen often enough. Neither of us wants to do stuff over webcam. One time I tried sexting her, but she didn't respond. Hope I sent it to the right person. Although, I've also put sexy stuff in an email, and she didn't reply to that, either.

Shouldn't surprise me, I guess. s*x has never been a big thing, for us. That's mostly coming from Kristen, though. I don't think she's as interested as I am.

Other relationships I've been in have been really charged. Sexually charged. Even when I think back about my first girlfriend, Marissa, we were both too scared to go down on each other, but we could kiss for hours. That sounds like an exaggeration, but it isn't. I know because the TV would be on in the background and I remember we missed all of Grey's Anatomy and whatever came on after because we were kissing that whole time. We may not have gone down on each other, but we certainly slid our hands down each other's pants. We had orgasms galore.

It's so funny, or I guess ironic, to think that we didn't have enough time together, or privacy, whereas Kristen and I spend entire weekends together and we've got all the privacy in the world, but we don't really use it—not for s*x, at least. I think there are probably married couples out there complaining that they don't get enough who have more s*x than we do, and not just because of the long distance situation.

Even after Kristen woke up from her nap, she was acting so resentful of me. She claimed she was just tired after a long workweek. I made the mistake of pointing out that it was actually a short workweek for her, since she'd taken Friday off to come here. The look she gave me nearly burned a hole in my heart. She bit back, telling me that every time she took Friday off to fly out to see me, it meant she had to work harder every other day of the week. She ended up staying late every day, and Thursday night she didn't leave the office until eleven.

I don't know if she was saying all that so I would feel bad, but I definitely did feel bad. And when I say “bad” I actually mean guilty, because she wouldn't be taking Friday off if not for me. It was my fault she had to work extra hours throughout the week, and she was so tired.

But I told myself this was a good omen: if flying out to visit me was too tiring, then it made perfect sense to get married. Then we'd live with each other every day, and nobody would have to fly anywhere. We would always be together. Life would be great.

When it was time to dress for dinner, Kristen pulled on the same jeans and plaid shirt she'd worn on the plane.

I said, “No, remember I told you to bring something special? I'm taking you out for a fancy dinner. I want us to both wear something nice.”

“Well, this is the nicest outfit I brought with me,” she said, indicating the clothes she had on.

I unzipped her luggage to look inside, and she was telling the truth. All she'd packed were sweats and pyjamas. Nothing nice. Nothing special.

“But I told you,” I said, in disbelief. “Don't you remember? I reminded you a thousand times. All week, I asked you to bring something nice to wear because I was taking you out for dinner. How could you forget after all those reminders?”

Slamming her suitcase shut, she said, “I don't know, but I did, okay? Maybe because I'm so busy with my job, I don't have time to think about what I'm wearing to dinner in Hicksville.”

Tears filled my eyes. I tried not to let them fall because I didn't want to ruin our special date night, but she's the one who ruined it by not packing anything appropriate for the restaurant we were going to.

“Tonight was really important to me,” I sobbed. The tears fell. I couldn't stop them. “That's why I kept reminding you. It wasn't just to be a nag. It's because... because...”

“You're gonna ask me to marry you,” Kristen cut in.

I couldn't believe it. I asked, “How did you know?”

“It was obvious,” she replied. “You've been acting so weird. And wanting to do something special, go somewhere fancy? That's not you. It's not us. We're low-key. That's what I love most about coming back here to see you, Poppy: I get to hang with my girl, Netflix and Chill, real casual, no business attire. Just the two of us in PJs, eating cold pizza in your bed. That's the kind of weekend I look forward to. Not all this stress and perfection and dressing for dinner.”

“It would have just been for one night,” I said. “Something special you could tell your friends about when you got back to Edmonton.”

Kristen took a step toward me and held both my hands. With a warm and loving look on her face, she said, “That's another thing: Edmonton. You don't want to live there, but that's where my job is. I don't want to live in Friendly Corners, but this is where your job is.”

“My job isn't important,” I piped up. “I could work in a hotel anywhere.

Cocking her head, Kristen asked, “In Edmonton?”

I didn't answer. Of course there were hotels in Edmonton—way more than the one we have here in town—and I could probably get a job in one if I wanted to. But that was just it: I didn't want to. I didn't want to move there. And I knew, in my heart, that she meant it when said she wouldn't move back home. She expressed the sentiment often enough.

“Maybe we could live somewhere different,” I suggested. “Like, if there's a town outside Edmonton that feels homey, but that's close enough for you to drive in to work every day. That might be an option, if we figured out something like that.”

A new light ignited in Kristen's eyes. “Now you're thinking, Poppy. That's not a bad idea. Not bad at all.”

“So you'll do it?” I asked, squeezing her hands so tight my nails dug into her skin. “You want to? You'll marry me?”

Before I could scramble for the ring, Kristen said, “Oh, Poppy. Oh, no. That's the biggest reason I didn't want to go out tonight: I knew you'd propose and I knew you'd make a spectacle of it, and I knew I'd have to say no. Telling someone you don't want to marry them isn't easy.”

“Have a lot of experience with that, do you?” I spat.

I don't even know where those words came from. I felt like someone on a TV show.

“Of course not,” Kristen replied. “It just isn't easy to disappoint someone you love.”

“I love you too,” I wailed, wrapping my arms around her neck. “That's why I want you to marry me!”

“I know,” she said as she pulled me off of her. “But I'm not ready to take a step like that, so let's put the proposal out of our minds and get some takeout and eat it by the river. How's that sound, eh?”

Wiping the tears from my cheeks, I told Kristen about the special salmon I'd ordered. It was already paid for. I'd ponied up in advance for our big proposal dinner. And then there was dessert. I hadn't paid for that yet, but I couldn't no-show after Sally had gone to so much trouble with the fairy lights and everything.

Kristen's compromise was this: we'd pick up our fancy salmon dinner and eat it by the river, like a picnic where we could eat well and be comfortable. The weather was perfect for eating outdoors, so I couldn't poke any holes in that plan. Afterwards, we would stroll by the river and make our way to Bakelicious. There, we would enjoy a slice of chocolate-raspberry torte, not as a couple about to be engaged, but as two girlfriends who loved each other and were out for a romantic and stress-free evening.

That's what we did, and it was fine. The food was good. So was the weather. But I'd hoped she'd end the evening agreeing to be my wife, and that's not what happened. She wants to keep going out with me, stay a couple and everything, but not get married.

My heart hurts when I think about it. This whole weekend was a disaster. It's been so hard not to cry the whole time.

Now that she's gone, I might just cry all night.