On the thirteenth of May two thousand and eleven in the early hours of a fog laden Friday of all things, Georgina Leigh Parrish celebrates her twenty-first birthday. Likewise, on the thirteenth of May two thousand and eleven in the early hours of a fog laden Friday of all things, her twenty year old husband Mordecai's life is turned upside down when his marriage is declared a total loss.
Once the breakfast dishes are washed and dried and neatly put away in their respective places her husband of thirty-five months wordlessly presents her with a rectangular box and leans back in his seat to await her greatly anticipated reaction. The box is long and slim, perhaps five inches by two and is trimly decorated in smooth cream wrapping paper that is cool to the touch with a silken gold ribbon tied in an elegant bow in the centre –evidently the work of a store clerk. Naturally, she is surprised by the gesture, he is not at all prone to giving gifts; in fact, their previous anniversary she had received little more than a hastily bought thin bouquet of wilting carnations from the gas station next door complete with a dollar price tag.
"It matches your hair," her husband cautiously observes, his pensive dark eyes studying her carefully, like the prey watching the predator waiting for the disastrous chain of events that will surely follow. "Look, it's colour co-ordinated and everything," he adds with a child-like glee that once upon a time she found to be nothing short of charming.
Georgina turns the box around in her hands savouring this curious display of affection before pulling keenly at the ribbon which falls away easily. The pale wrapping paper matches her flaxen hair and from the opposite side of the kitchen table which wobbles uncertainly with each breath and slight movement Mordecai's dark eyes study her carefully.
Picking at the edges where the paper overlaps with one long fingernail the heavy wrapping paper tears and hurriedly she peels the remainder away and tosses it carelessly onto the table in order to unveil a plain black box with the title of a renowned jewellers' embossed in gold script in the centre. The words momentarily take the young woman's breath away; the company operates in the neighbouring city and even the simplest pieces of jewellery cost several hundred dollars a far cry from her twenty dollar engagement ring and wedding rings bought on a whim whilst on vacation mere days after completing their senior year of high school and only one day after Mordecai celebrated his eighteenth birthday.
She flips the somewhat stiff lid and stares down in uninhibited admiration at a slender silver eternity ring set with five small stones not at all like the cheap gemstone in the centre of her solitaire engagement ring. The ring is nestled comfortably amongst a sea of fine silk the pale blue of a robin's egg and in the early morning sunlight the jewellery is ultimately astounding.
"What do you think?" His tone is a peculiar combination of impatience and nerves, his voice strained.
Grudgingly, Gina tears her eyes from the ring and looks at him; this time however she really looks at him. Despite several years together –the couple had begun dating at sixteen and had married young when Georgina herself was only eighteen after a whirlwind romance and a split second decision on their first vacation together- she would certainly have been lying if she had said that she recognises the man seated before her. He is astoundingly tall and a willowy frame gives the illusion of extra height; a dancer's build, very lithe and lean, broad shoulders, strong arms, a trim waist, now verging on skinny following a recent and sudden weight loss.
His feathers are dark and at this hour they are askew offering him an interesting dishevelled appearance. He wears nothing aside from a pair of loose fitting pyjama bottoms that ride low on his slender waist, his narrow dark eyes are bloodshot, exhausted from countless sleepless nights spent worrying, hoping and praying as he lies awake at night listening to his young wife cry herself to sleep in their bedroom down the hall.
She cannot help herself and finds that she is staring in fascination, and perhaps revulsion, at the younger man who calmly gazes back. He studies her as enquiringly as she does he, his dark gaze intense and unwavering; not unlike her husband she is tall, half an inch above six feet in her socks, with pale blonde curls, and similarly tired turquoise eyes. Slender with high cheekbones and a clear complexion, sadly spared from beauty by a crooked nose that is too large for her face.
It has been said that couples who live together for long enough will eventually begin to resemble one another. Gina and Mordecai had begun that way but over time they had diverged.
"Well?" he prompts growing tired of her staring, there is a distinct tremor in his voice and she understands why.
"It's lovely," she says finally and promptly returns her gaze to her gift which really is exquisite. Carefully she removes the ring from its packaging, and slipping off her engagement ring she slides the new piece of jewellery onto her finger before following it with the previous ring; it is a perfect fit. Looking at it she struggles to swallow past the lump in her throat. Not for a long time has she been so overcome by emotion and a myriad of scenarios pass through her mind as she wants nothing more than to hold him close and thank him profusely for this beautiful gift, but rational thinking kicks in before she can act, however, and she does not.
For months their relationship has been at somewhat of a quandary, she missing the excitement of their younger years in which neither knew what was around the corner, she misses staying up late driving aimlessly around the state until the sun rose, sneaking backstage at concerts, sitting on the roof at night drinking beer and throwing loose pieces of shingle at passing vehicles for entertainment and laughing until their sides hurt, but now the quiet picket fence life is imminent and it truly frightens her. They had married too young, both too headstrong and too much in love to listen to any common sense from concerned and enraged relatives.
When she met him on a cold late winter afternoon whilst waiting in line for the release of a new video game she had thought of him as a leader, someone who was willing to take control of any situation with little hesitation, but nowadays that aspect of his personality has largely been swallowed by his determination to play the role of husband. When once he would have fought her tooth and nail to prove she was wrong he will now sit back and agree for fear of starting another heated argument.
"So, Mordecai, what have you done?"
Her tone is sarcastic and to Mordecai it is mocking and he frowns. When he does not reply she tries again aware of how ungrateful she must sound. "You don't buy me presents, love. You almost forgot our anniversary. I know it isn't stolen because you're a lot smarter than that, so you've done something that I'm not going to like."
"Nothing," he snaps back. Irritated and ashamed, he kicks his chair back sending it skidding across the narrow kitchen with a piercing squeal that causes Gina to visibly flinch as he leaves the room in a rage.
The kitchen is stiflingly hot and standing also, Georgina Parrish, she has kept her maiden name, throws open the window over the sink letting in the chill of the early morning spring air which brings with it the overpowering smell of gasoline from the nearby gas station mingling sickeningly with the scent of freshly cut grass.
Brushing a flyaway strand of blonde hair from her brow she follows him into the living room, a small L-shaped room that also encompasses the dining room. It is a narrow room much like the rest of the house with pale cream floral wallpaper and a thick white carpet that is worn dark grey in places furnished cheaply with unsteady furniture built by Mordecai himself. A set of sliding glass doors look out onto a small veranda with plastic lawn chairs thick with mildew and multiple pots filled with browning plants calling out for water. In the centre of the room is an over-stuffed white sofa with suspicious stains on the seats and one too many colourful cushions. When they moved in she had had high hopes for their tiny home, but those are simply a thing of the past. The bungalow is a far cry from her childhood home, a sprawling stately home in the countryside, but the rent is shockingly low -and with good reason considering the problems with the property from the leaking faucet to the two foot hole in the roof- perhaps verging on the high side for two high school drop outs and an unemployed college student.
Standing by the glass doors he runs a hand through his feathers and turns to face her. The light spills across his face momentarily presenting him with an ethereal appearance. "I wanted to treat my wife," he tells her softly.
He is tense and on edge, and that terrifies her more than anything he could have said or done. He is not necessarily frightened, but he is anxious; Mordecai is many things, slacker, lover, immature, but one thing he is not nor has he ever been is afraid. Perhaps he already knows what she is planning.
"And why don't I believe you, Mordecai? I don't-" Gina pauses and bites her lower lip nervously unwilling to admit to the fact that she doesn't quite trust him.
"You don't what? Trust me?" He asks and Gina averts his gaze.
"That is not what I was going to say," she tries to recover herself but the damage has been done and words fail her. He scoffs disdainfully and she retaliates. "Alright, fine! I don't, and why should I? We can barely pay the bills and you give me this ring." She waves her hand wildly. "I love it, I really do but that doesn't stop me wondering where the hell you got the money from?"
"I've been saving." He steps towards her reaching for her arm and she recoils her bejewelled hand lashing out at him with her other. For a brief moment he wishes that his wife was like other women and could easily be silenced and satisfied by a present with an expensive price tag, but of course, Georgina Parrish is not at all like other women, she is not mousey and plain but rather brash and bold and willing to fight for anything and everything and honestly, he loved that about her but just once he wishes that she would calm down, if only for one moment.
"Get your hands off me!" She loses her temper and picks up one of the cushions resting precariously on the arm of the sofa and tosses it at him angrily. "I don't want to do this anymore. I'm so tired of this –of you! I feel like I settled and this isn't what I want for the rest of my life."
He stares at her for a long time not quite sure how to respond, and when he does reply his voice is low. "What are you saying?"
Georgina sighs and averts her gaze wiping angrily at her face with the sleeve of her blouse. "I'm saying maybe it's time to call it quits. This isn't what I signed up for; you're unemployed, Rigby still lives with us. Honestly, I feel like I'm the mother of two toddlers. I want my life back." The responsibility of marriage feels like a heavy weight on her shoulders, pulling her down and threatening to drown her.
"I'm in college," he responds at a loss for words, but she cuts him off.
"I work six days a week, seventy hours, while you two sit in here all day playing video games and eating your weight in chips. I miss our old life, do you remember when we used to have fun?" she asks him, her voice fading to little more than a whisper on the final sentence. She recovers and busies herself with tying her hair in a messy ponytail telling him over her shoulder, "I have to go to work, Mordecai, we'll talk when I get home," she says feeling defeated already, she is much too tired to fight, too worried and saddened by his own lack of fight to argue further and she is on the brink of tears when she stoops to retrieve her work shoes from behind the sofa. She works several blocks away at a diner on the outskirts of town where the food is cheap and nasty much like the clientele, it's not a great job by any means with low pay and anti-social hours but as a high school dropout she counts herself lucky to have any job at all.
She slips on her shoes, her bag is on the kitchen table and she snatches it up watching the table rock from side to side as she sniffs loudly trying desperately to hold back the tears. She is embarrassed; this is not like her, her emotions rarely get the better of her. Ready for her twelve hour shift she pauses and looks at him for several moments during which the silence between the couple becomes unbearable. He clenches his jaw and inhales deeply. She knows that he tries, that much is evident, he has taken the role of husband seriously, but she had never realised how boring marriage could be, how time consuming it could be.
"Please, Gina, please promise me you'll talk to me when you get home."
He steps forward and pulls her roughly into his arms in a sudden display of affection that startles her a great deal and causes her own tears to fall freely. "I promise I'll be here when you get home." He kisses the top of her head trying desperately to block out Georgina's loud sobs as she presses her face into his chest her body shaking painfully with each intake of breath. She is well aware that he knows as well as she does that she will not return home.