wait

Things are much, much better now.

After a terse online exchange and two teary transatlantic phone calls, I think the family strain is mended. Which is actually quite remarkable. I figured it would take weeks, if not months, to mend.

Shortly after the last post, I ran into my sister online. It wasn't the most pleasant conversation, hampered by the impersonal, unemotional nature of quick spurts of faceless typing. But in the end, she seemed to come around a bit and perhaps even pity me. Progress.

A few hours later, Richard came home and I collapsed on the bed in tears and told him the whole sad saga. Poor boy. I don't know who felt worse - me for having to deal with this family drama, or him for feeling that he was the cause of it. I was literally shaking with sobs, even though I thought I was dried out. It was awful. We both agreed that the only thing to do would be to call my mother and have a heart-to-heart. Maybe my sister was exhaggerating a bit, or misinterpreting. Either way, my mother was clearly the most important person to approach.

I put it off for a few hours, making the mistake of watching the saddest documentary ever, which sent me even further into tears. Finally, I couldn't wait any longer. I phoned her up and started sniffling again as soon as she picked up. Great.

I told her I was worried that I was upsetting her. I told her about my sister's email, and she sighed, and said she thinks things have been misconstrued. She reassured me that she was okay with my decision, as long as I'm sure it's what I want to do. She said she was upset at the thought of losing me, that she's been holding out hope that one day I would finally come home. Now she sees that might not be the case, and it makes her sad. But as for the marriage thing, she said simply "You've got to do what you've got to do."

I told her I felt I was having to decide between Richard and my family and that it's a decision I don't want to make. She said "There's no decision. If you love him, you pick him. Don't worry about us. It's your life." The conversation went on in this vein for awhile, with my sniffling away through most of it and her keeping a creepy calm. Either she really is okay with it, or is an incredible actress. Either way, she wants me to believe it's ok, so I suppose it is.

She also reminded me of the remarkable similarities in the way she and my dad got married. I can't remember if I've talked about this before - I probably have - but humour me if I repeat it again. When she dragged my dad up north for a week to meet the family, my grandmother locked herself in her room for two days and cried, refusing to come out. The family did not approve. My father ended up moving to California to do his post grad, and after much turmoil, my mother decided to join him. She packed a car with all her belongings and drove across country without stopping, joined by my uncle, who caved in because he didn't want his sister to get into any further trouble. Once she reached California, they got married in a simple ceremony with two witnesses. They never had an elaborate family ceremony. It took a while, but her family eventually came around and I think my dad even became my grandmother's favourite son in law.

I can't tell if my mother is being so great about this because she promised herself she would never do that to her daughters, or if it's because she was in the same situation and understands my pain. Probably a bit of both. I suppose it doesn't really matter.

I was so relieved when I hung up that phone. And later, when my sister called, we managed to mend things too. She seemed genuinely shocked that I was offended by her email. Apparently she was only trying to point out how lucky I am. Er... yeah. Okay. After a bit of awkward conversation, things were back to normal. She was planning nights out and booking her holiday so that we could spend loads of time together on my first week back. She even offered me use of her car if I need it for whatever job I manage to get.

Wow.

I feel like such a weight has been lifted. I'm much more calm and collected. I even dared to call my whiney friend S and enlisted her on my secret ring-finding mission, determined to get an engagement ring substitute to trick immigration officials and commemorate the whole affair. I didn't tell Richard, of course, as he'd freak. I just wanted to peruse and see if there was a suitable ring at a manageable price of, say, £20? Ha! Tall order, I know.

So when Richard came home and has his own mini break-down, I was amazingly calm. After all the furore faced with my family, he decided to call his again, just to make sure he wasn't missing anything major. He figured he was getting off perhaps too easily. And alas, when he talked to his mother he discovered that she had misunderstood the situation a bit as well. But she still took it in stride, only expressing slight concern that he was very young for this sort of thing.

Then he talked to his older brother, whose opinion really matters. I figured there'd be no problems there, as older brother married a friend in New Zealand just to stay in the country. But older brother said our situation was different, because it was complicated by real love, and that regardless of how clear we try to make the distinction, the marriage would inevitably be a bit real. And he questioned whether Richard was prepared to deal with the consequences a few years down the line. What if he's still not ready at that point to make it real and commit forever?

I'm not sure what else he said, but Richard was quite shaken up by it. It confirmed some of his own fears and uncertainty, which had been recently raised after the ordeal with my own family. He doesn't want to be responsible for driving a wedge between me and my family. Suddenly, the one party who has been most sure of his stance throughout is beginning to waver. Joy.

But as I said, I did not freak out. Nope. I just held him and stroked his hair and told him it was fine. I'd be worried if he wasn't doubting. He's going through the exact same thing I was a few days ago, only a bit delayed. It's finally sinking in that as much as he tries to paint it lightly, this is a serious thing. I'm almost relieved to see it. I tried to be as comforting and soothing as possible. I told him I had to book my flights now, but that there is no pressure. If we're not ready to get married come February, I'll just use the flight back as a holiday, a visit, maybe a chance to pick up the rest of my stuff, if it comes to that. I told him there's plenty of time to consider everything, that we can now slow down and take as much time as we need to make sure it's what we want to do. The hardest bits are over. We've had to work out all the logistical mess, we've had to deal with the family dramas... now we can just sort ourselves out.

Listen to me! I sound all... emotionally mature and stable or something. What a change.

He was amazed as well. I think he was expecting me to slap him or scream or, at the very least, collapse in another sobbing heap. He sais he felt like shit, suggesting the whole thing and sending me into a week of hell and misery, only to suddenly reconsider at this late stage. I told him not to worry about it, and assured him that I'd be okay with whatever decision he took. And the weird thing is, I think I would be okay with it. As we sat there in silence, him wringing his hands in stressful agony, I thought about how I would feel if he decided not to go through with it. And I thought I could do it. If he decides he's not ready, then maybe it's for the best that it ends now and I move on. It would be awful, and I can't begin to imagine how I would get on without him, and maybe I would still hold out for a bit hoping he'd reconsider given time... but I'd also feel better about returning home and starting anew. Does that sound crazy?

I guess it would just be resolution of some sort, and at this time even that is a welcome relief. I've been struggling over the past few days to make a decision, and I did. I chose him. Now it's his turn. If he doesn't chose me, then at least I know I've done my bit. There's nothing else I can do. Part of the agony of the past year or so has been the fluid nature of my life. Nothing was certain. Even when I got the job, I knew it wouldn't be forever. It was something to fill time... till what, I didn't know. I guess I was waiting for Richard. To commit. To decide my future for me. Where I went, what I did, it was all up to him really. This time I was taken to task and forced to decide as well, and it has been the most difficult decision of my life. But I've done it! And the wait is almost over.