She looked around the room, at the ceiling, the lamp, and wondered if the feeling she had at that moment would last. Would they make it and would she get to experience this love in another time and another place?
She’d forever remember the set up of the hotel room-the first they shared together. She’d remember the round table in the corner and the bouquet of iris’s he had delivered for her before they checked in, and the lamp-she’d remember the lamp and the way it cast a shadow on his half of the bed.
While he showered, she dreamed of a day she did not even know might exist-a day when they were married.
Would their room look like this, or would their furniture be more practical? Would they have a place to read, a place to reflect, and would they have a bathroom, so that she could fall asleep to the sound of the shower replenishing her lovers’ skin, like raindrops in the spring.
She thought of their unborn children, and whether or not he would let them cuddle in bed with them when they had a nightmare, there bodies curled softly in their safety, their sweet breath rising and falling to the beating of her heart.
She wondered if he’d lose his hair, or if by some miracle she would get to see him gray. Would he acquire laugh lines or liver spots, or both?
She wondered if, when she went blind, if he would read to her, and if he went deaf, if he would remember the sound of her voice.
And then she fell asleep alone in the bed-her only companion, the shadow from the lamp near the round table in the corner.
Thursday, February 16, 2006
Thursday, February 09, 2006
Part 15
“How long?”
He paused. He was deciding whether or not to lie to her. She knew because he hesitated just before he stuck his neck out. The answer did not matter. She simply wanted him to admit it.
“Nothing happened.” He said, his eyes darting, looking at anything, at everything, just so he did not have to look into her eyes.
“I don’t believe you. How long have you been with her? Does she even know that you are married?” Her voice was shaky and her volume was rising. Her patience was already short with him, but finding out that he brought infidelity into her life shortened it even more.
“DOES SHE KNOW?”
“Yes.”
“She’s a real stand up gal you’ve got there. Knowingly fooling around with someone else’s husband. Very respectable. It’s a match made in heaven.” She stared. Not because she wanted to soak in every line of his face like she used to and not because she adored the color of his eyes or the way his mouth curled-she stared because she knew it would make him uncomfortable.
“What do you want me to say?” He said impatiently.
“I want you to admit it. Admit that you had an affair.”
“I’m not admitting that.” He leaned his hand against the wall and crossed his legs.
“You’re a liar.” Her voice was calm, clear and confident.
“I don’t know how you can call yourself a man. A real man would have done this with dignity. A real man would have talked about things instead of hiding behind a fake depression. A real man would not have touched another woman until things were settled. You have lost all the respect I ever had for you. I admired you. Now you are just a shell of a man, and that's just sad.”
She turned then, and left him leaning on the wall. She thought about the day she painted the very place his hand was resting and was saddened by the thought of how much love and sweat they poured into that house, only to have it be broken.
He paused. He was deciding whether or not to lie to her. She knew because he hesitated just before he stuck his neck out. The answer did not matter. She simply wanted him to admit it.
“Nothing happened.” He said, his eyes darting, looking at anything, at everything, just so he did not have to look into her eyes.
“I don’t believe you. How long have you been with her? Does she even know that you are married?” Her voice was shaky and her volume was rising. Her patience was already short with him, but finding out that he brought infidelity into her life shortened it even more.
“DOES SHE KNOW?”
“Yes.”
“She’s a real stand up gal you’ve got there. Knowingly fooling around with someone else’s husband. Very respectable. It’s a match made in heaven.” She stared. Not because she wanted to soak in every line of his face like she used to and not because she adored the color of his eyes or the way his mouth curled-she stared because she knew it would make him uncomfortable.
“What do you want me to say?” He said impatiently.
“I want you to admit it. Admit that you had an affair.”
“I’m not admitting that.” He leaned his hand against the wall and crossed his legs.
“You’re a liar.” Her voice was calm, clear and confident.
“I don’t know how you can call yourself a man. A real man would have done this with dignity. A real man would have talked about things instead of hiding behind a fake depression. A real man would not have touched another woman until things were settled. You have lost all the respect I ever had for you. I admired you. Now you are just a shell of a man, and that's just sad.”
She turned then, and left him leaning on the wall. She thought about the day she painted the very place his hand was resting and was saddened by the thought of how much love and sweat they poured into that house, only to have it be broken.
Sunday, February 05, 2006
Part 14
She was good at keeping her sadness hidden. Her smile was bright enough to draw attention away from the fact that the twinkle in her eye was missing.
And she smiled a lot.
But he knew. He saw the void-the sadness that was slowly overcoming her as Christmas drew near and the realization that she would be far away from those she loved washed over her.
As he sat in the break room, he sunk back into his chair, closed his eyes and remembered her stories. They were wonderful stories of her loud and boisterous family and what seemed to him like 100 small cousins. Sometimes, if he looked close enough, he thought that he could actually see her spirit bubbling over with joy when she talked about them.
It broke his heart to see her sad, especially during Christmas-her favorite time of year. He understood her sadness though, because the same realization was slowly washing over him. Only his sadness was because she would soon be leaving.
*****
“Hi there-Why are you in a greeter costume and not the Main Street costume? I thought you had parade audience control tonight?”
“I had PAC, I switched so I could be up here.” She knew he would be disappointed. She checked his schedule earlier and noticed he was working PAC-most likely because he thought she was. His face fell.
"I was hoping to watch the Christmas parade with you. You haven’t actually watched it yet, and I want you to see if for the first time with me, from my favorite spot.”
“Oh…maybe I can come over once it starts. We’re usually slow up here while the parade is going, especially tonight.” It was the first night of a special month-long after hours Christmas party. She would not have guessed that he had a plan.
“Please try. I want you to see it with me for the first time.” His smile broadened. She noted the hint of pride in his voice; pride not only for where they worked, but also for this particular parade. She liked that he was a know-it-all, and that he felt connected to Main Street. It made her happy to know that when she went back home, he would be able to describe everything she was missing in detail.
“I’ll make it happen. I’ll meet you over there when it starts.” She leaned in and hugged him and skipped out of the break room, ready for a night of laughter and a special viewing of the Christmas Parade with the man she loved.
And she smiled a lot.
But he knew. He saw the void-the sadness that was slowly overcoming her as Christmas drew near and the realization that she would be far away from those she loved washed over her.
As he sat in the break room, he sunk back into his chair, closed his eyes and remembered her stories. They were wonderful stories of her loud and boisterous family and what seemed to him like 100 small cousins. Sometimes, if he looked close enough, he thought that he could actually see her spirit bubbling over with joy when she talked about them.
It broke his heart to see her sad, especially during Christmas-her favorite time of year. He understood her sadness though, because the same realization was slowly washing over him. Only his sadness was because she would soon be leaving.
*****
“Hi there-Why are you in a greeter costume and not the Main Street costume? I thought you had parade audience control tonight?”
“I had PAC, I switched so I could be up here.” She knew he would be disappointed. She checked his schedule earlier and noticed he was working PAC-most likely because he thought she was. His face fell.
"I was hoping to watch the Christmas parade with you. You haven’t actually watched it yet, and I want you to see if for the first time with me, from my favorite spot.”
“Oh…maybe I can come over once it starts. We’re usually slow up here while the parade is going, especially tonight.” It was the first night of a special month-long after hours Christmas party. She would not have guessed that he had a plan.
“Please try. I want you to see it with me for the first time.” His smile broadened. She noted the hint of pride in his voice; pride not only for where they worked, but also for this particular parade. She liked that he was a know-it-all, and that he felt connected to Main Street. It made her happy to know that when she went back home, he would be able to describe everything she was missing in detail.
“I’ll make it happen. I’ll meet you over there when it starts.” She leaned in and hugged him and skipped out of the break room, ready for a night of laughter and a special viewing of the Christmas Parade with the man she loved.
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