Still remains
I have been driving around town for hours now, going around and around the same streets and alleys and avenues, wishing that by passing through them, my pain would come to pass too.
But it might be too soon. To say I am jumping the gun would be an understatement.
My husband’s heart transplant failed this morning, at exactly 10.34 am. It’s only 7.49 pm. I’ve been to the petrol station five times to gas up so that I can continue my mindless meandering through the city. Robert was ready. I laughed at the thought, Ready Robert. He spoke to our two kids before the operation to tell them it could go both ways: Daddy could get well or he could go to heaven. Either way, he said, be there for Mommy.
I wasn’t ready. I wasn’t ready to have my husband be part of the 64% of heart transplants that didn’t succeed. My prayers went the opposite direction. That morning, as they were wheeling him into the operation room I prayed, “Dear God, don’t take him away. Not yet. We have so much yet to do together. The kids need him. I need him.”
I don’t know what kind of answer it was to my prayer, God taking Robert away. It is something I think I have time to figure out with my kids.
I’ve been driving around because I did not want to go back to a home that would be a different kind of home from now on. He wouldn’t be there to play with the kids in the mornings as I painted. I wouldn’t have to count pills during mealtimes to give to him. There would be no holding back my long, quick strides because he needed to catch his breath while we walked around the neighborhood.
Before his transplant, there were lots of breakfasts in bed and a lot of foreplay. He promised, after his operation, I would have an unlimited supply of lovemaking from him. I laughed when he said that. I told him, jokingly, I wanted him to bring it on now but he was still in a delicate state.
I cried, let myself cry as I closed the door behind me when I finally allowed myself to go home. My children were asleep; the nanny put them to bed. My mom broke the news to them. She was there when I arrived. She asked the housekeeper to make me lavender tea and to bring out the honey and crumpets. How well she knew me, knew that I would be hungry for a tiny meal. She knew from the heartbreaks she witnessed over the years that I find comfort in food during trying times.
We did not talk. I just let the tears fall as I poured the tea from the pot and chewed slowly on my pastry.
After that, at 10.52 I turned in. I slept beside my mom in the guest bedroom. I couldn’t sleep in the bed I shared with my husband. It was too painful. Just looking at it brought back a tide of memories I was helpless to contain.
I slept fitfully, tossing and turning and dreaming of my departed husband. In my dream we were young again and laughing as we sat by a lake. He was healthy and we spent time chasing each other. I screamed when he caught up with me. He held me fast in his arms, telling me to be still. He said, “Listen. I will always love you wherever I go. I will never be far from you.” He was serious and then he let me go and he jumped into the lake, never to emerge. I cried after him, cried and cried, but he did not come back.
I woke up drenched in sweat, with tears in my eyes and mucus in my nostrils. I could not go back to sleep.
I was groggy at breakfast and I spoke to my kids about how things would change now that Daddy won’t be coming home.
Adriel, my five-year-old son, understood the situation more than I gave him credit for.
“Mommy, Daddy left behind his body here when he went to heaven. What are we going to do with it?”
I was flummoxed. It was an unexpected question. I held back my tears. “We’ll have it cremated, darling. Cremated means you burn the body until it turns to ashes, like what we do with coals when we barbecue, okay? Then we’ll put Daddy’s ashes in an urn and have a special place built for him in the garden.”
My daughter Anna was two. All she kept saying was, “Daddy with angels. Daddy up in heaven.”
I gathered them to me one at a time and hugged them tight. I didn’t want to them to see me crying but I couldn’t help myself. Mom kept rubbing my shoulders.
I took a bath and instructed the nanny to bathe the kids. After everyone was dressed we drove to the morgue at 9.30 am. I told the kids to say their goodbyes to their Dad, to tell him everything they want to tell him and reminded them to never stop speaking to their Dad in their minds because he will never stop listening to them.
At 10.34 they took the body into the crematorium. We did not wait for the entire process to finish. We will come back for the ashes tomorrow. I chose the urn and asked them for the number of a contractor who could build a mini mausoleum in our yard.
I said goodbye to my husband then, as we were driving away from the memorial park. A weight lifted from my being. I felt light, it was like my husband telling me to go on, I never really lost him, that he will always be with me in every little thing that makes me who I am because there was a time when we were one and we walked this earth in unison.
Thursday, July 8, 2010
Monday, July 5, 2010
Rehab
Expectations
He was nothing like she expected. She knew how old he was, but in the flesh he seemed more youthful, not only because of his looks but also because of his demeanor. She had heard of him, in the circles where she moved but she never really met him. Not meet meet, but she passed him by alright, one time too many in her opinion.
She chose this café to meet him. He initiated the meeting through her friends though Lord knows how he came to know her friends. Her social orbit was definitely far from the center in which he revolved.
He shook her hand and smiled his killer smile. It was a good start to a great evening. They never could run out of things to say, to talk about and he said he’d call her in the morning after he brought her to her doorstep.
A few more dates followed the first one, but she was afraid she was underwhelmed. He bored her, he was too perfect. He said all the right things, was witty in the right places and was too damned decorous for her tastes.
She blew him off one night to go out with a guy who’s been bugging her to give him a chance. He took her to a marijuana party. She’s never done drugs before that night and the guy kept insisting it wasn’t technically a drug, it was a weed, doesn’t she get it?
She liked the feeling of being stoned, so she went out with the guy a few more times and before she knew it she was doing crystal meth.
At first she told herself, it was okay, she has a grip on the situation. She wasn’t an addict; she could still get out if she wanted. But it soon got out of hand. She lost her job and blew her chance to become the youngest vice president in the PR agency for which she worked. Her Mom kicked her out of the house for stealing money and valuables from her and bringing undesirables to wreak mayhem under her roof.
One night, she was out on the street, the rain pouring in buckets and she hadn’t eaten for days. She remembered to call her Dad, the one whom she did not know much of because it was what her Mom wanted. She couldn’t recall his number so she called her Aunt Marge for the number. Her Aunt Marge asked her where she was and what she was doing out so late at night. She said she was at the police station trying to scrape a phone call. Her Aunt Marge asked what happened and she told her Aunt Marge everything that has happened in the last two years.
Her Aunt Marge, her Mom’s sister, was flabbergasted. “I thought you were doing really well,” she said, her voice tinged with shock. “Anyway, just stay put. I’ll come for you. I don’t know where I put your Dad’s number. I’ll look for it as soon as I get you someplace safe.”
True to her word, Aunt Marge came by the police station and took her to a rehabilitation center south of the city. She made sure her niece was settled and all the paperwork was taken care of before she left for her place 30 minutes away.
Life in rehab was no picnic. It was arduous, but the staff knew their shit. There was no getting around them and she appreciated this opportunity to get rid of her bad habits once and for all.
In her third month, her Dad came to visit, along with Aunt Marge. Her Mom washed her hands clean of her.
“I’m sure this isn’t how you expected our reunion, but I’ll take what I can,” her Dad smiled wryly. “What happened sweetheart?”
“I don’t know, Dad. One moment my life was going great, the next I was spinning out of control.”
“How did you get into drugs? I wish I was there when it was happening, maybe I could have done something.”
“It started with marijuana, and I liked how it felt. Then it became a habit I couldn’t control,” she said. “I wish you were there too. I wish I talked to you so I wouldn’t have done all those stupid things.”
“It’s alright, as long as you want to change, that’s all that matters,” her Dad reassured her.
“But I am afraid, they say once an addict always an addict.”
“That’s crap and you know it. You’re my daughter. I’ll help you stay sober. And you can if you want to. Remember, it’s always up to you.”
She felt good after that first dialogue with her family. In the ones that followed, she got to know her Dad even more and she came to a point when she was almost glad she had an addiction problem to kick. It brought her close to the man she always sought in her life, in the many boyfriends and lovers that she had. She came away from the experience knowing that she found what it was she was looking for—the love of the man who was missing from her life.
After a year and a half, she checked out of rehab clean and sober. She stayed away from her old drugging crowd and sought out her college friends, the ones who tried to help her as she descended on her downward spiral.
She got a job with another PR firm, thanks to her Dad pulling a few strings. In a year she made vice president, the youngest in the firm’s history.
As she looked back on the nightmarish two years when she was drugging, she realized she did not want to go back to that kind of life. And that she had too much of everything and did not know how to put her life in perspective.
These days she blows her money on treating her friends to dinners in nice restaurants and shopping trips to Singapore, and travel to the beach.
One day she was having coffee at her favorite café when a voice intruded on her thoughts.
“You disappeared,” he accused, smiling.
It was him, Mr. Prim and Proper.
“Gosh, it’s a long story. Wanna hear it?” she said.
For some reason, she felt comfortable sharing with him what she went through in the past five years and she told him about her life then and how her Dad became her salvation.
“You bored me, you know. It’s all your fault, if you weren’t so proper I wouldn’t have gone out with the guy who got me into the rabbit hole,” she joked.
“Oh did I? Well, I was going to tell you I dirt bike in the open road and build homes for the poor in my spare time. But you cancelled on me,” he laughed with her.
“Okay, so I admit. The fault is mine. So what else kind of daredevil things do you do?”
He told her and he told her that he surprised even himself for not making a move on her those times they went out. He said, she intimidated him, as if one false move would be his undoing. He was glad, though, he said, that things happened the way they did.
“You were too perfect. I couldn’t see a sign you were human,” he observed.
“I could say the same of you,” she retorted. “So, it’s okay that I’m a former junkie?”
“As long as you stay a former junkie,” he was honest.
Then, “It’s getting late. I’ve to call my Dad. Gotta go,” she gathered her things.
“Will there be a next time?”
“Sure. And next time, grab me,” she walked away with a wink.
He certainly did.
He was nothing like she expected. She knew how old he was, but in the flesh he seemed more youthful, not only because of his looks but also because of his demeanor. She had heard of him, in the circles where she moved but she never really met him. Not meet meet, but she passed him by alright, one time too many in her opinion.
She chose this café to meet him. He initiated the meeting through her friends though Lord knows how he came to know her friends. Her social orbit was definitely far from the center in which he revolved.
He shook her hand and smiled his killer smile. It was a good start to a great evening. They never could run out of things to say, to talk about and he said he’d call her in the morning after he brought her to her doorstep.
A few more dates followed the first one, but she was afraid she was underwhelmed. He bored her, he was too perfect. He said all the right things, was witty in the right places and was too damned decorous for her tastes.
She blew him off one night to go out with a guy who’s been bugging her to give him a chance. He took her to a marijuana party. She’s never done drugs before that night and the guy kept insisting it wasn’t technically a drug, it was a weed, doesn’t she get it?
She liked the feeling of being stoned, so she went out with the guy a few more times and before she knew it she was doing crystal meth.
At first she told herself, it was okay, she has a grip on the situation. She wasn’t an addict; she could still get out if she wanted. But it soon got out of hand. She lost her job and blew her chance to become the youngest vice president in the PR agency for which she worked. Her Mom kicked her out of the house for stealing money and valuables from her and bringing undesirables to wreak mayhem under her roof.
One night, she was out on the street, the rain pouring in buckets and she hadn’t eaten for days. She remembered to call her Dad, the one whom she did not know much of because it was what her Mom wanted. She couldn’t recall his number so she called her Aunt Marge for the number. Her Aunt Marge asked her where she was and what she was doing out so late at night. She said she was at the police station trying to scrape a phone call. Her Aunt Marge asked what happened and she told her Aunt Marge everything that has happened in the last two years.
Her Aunt Marge, her Mom’s sister, was flabbergasted. “I thought you were doing really well,” she said, her voice tinged with shock. “Anyway, just stay put. I’ll come for you. I don’t know where I put your Dad’s number. I’ll look for it as soon as I get you someplace safe.”
True to her word, Aunt Marge came by the police station and took her to a rehabilitation center south of the city. She made sure her niece was settled and all the paperwork was taken care of before she left for her place 30 minutes away.
Life in rehab was no picnic. It was arduous, but the staff knew their shit. There was no getting around them and she appreciated this opportunity to get rid of her bad habits once and for all.
In her third month, her Dad came to visit, along with Aunt Marge. Her Mom washed her hands clean of her.
“I’m sure this isn’t how you expected our reunion, but I’ll take what I can,” her Dad smiled wryly. “What happened sweetheart?”
“I don’t know, Dad. One moment my life was going great, the next I was spinning out of control.”
“How did you get into drugs? I wish I was there when it was happening, maybe I could have done something.”
“It started with marijuana, and I liked how it felt. Then it became a habit I couldn’t control,” she said. “I wish you were there too. I wish I talked to you so I wouldn’t have done all those stupid things.”
“It’s alright, as long as you want to change, that’s all that matters,” her Dad reassured her.
“But I am afraid, they say once an addict always an addict.”
“That’s crap and you know it. You’re my daughter. I’ll help you stay sober. And you can if you want to. Remember, it’s always up to you.”
She felt good after that first dialogue with her family. In the ones that followed, she got to know her Dad even more and she came to a point when she was almost glad she had an addiction problem to kick. It brought her close to the man she always sought in her life, in the many boyfriends and lovers that she had. She came away from the experience knowing that she found what it was she was looking for—the love of the man who was missing from her life.
After a year and a half, she checked out of rehab clean and sober. She stayed away from her old drugging crowd and sought out her college friends, the ones who tried to help her as she descended on her downward spiral.
She got a job with another PR firm, thanks to her Dad pulling a few strings. In a year she made vice president, the youngest in the firm’s history.
As she looked back on the nightmarish two years when she was drugging, she realized she did not want to go back to that kind of life. And that she had too much of everything and did not know how to put her life in perspective.
These days she blows her money on treating her friends to dinners in nice restaurants and shopping trips to Singapore, and travel to the beach.
One day she was having coffee at her favorite café when a voice intruded on her thoughts.
“You disappeared,” he accused, smiling.
It was him, Mr. Prim and Proper.
“Gosh, it’s a long story. Wanna hear it?” she said.
For some reason, she felt comfortable sharing with him what she went through in the past five years and she told him about her life then and how her Dad became her salvation.
“You bored me, you know. It’s all your fault, if you weren’t so proper I wouldn’t have gone out with the guy who got me into the rabbit hole,” she joked.
“Oh did I? Well, I was going to tell you I dirt bike in the open road and build homes for the poor in my spare time. But you cancelled on me,” he laughed with her.
“Okay, so I admit. The fault is mine. So what else kind of daredevil things do you do?”
He told her and he told her that he surprised even himself for not making a move on her those times they went out. He said, she intimidated him, as if one false move would be his undoing. He was glad, though, he said, that things happened the way they did.
“You were too perfect. I couldn’t see a sign you were human,” he observed.
“I could say the same of you,” she retorted. “So, it’s okay that I’m a former junkie?”
“As long as you stay a former junkie,” he was honest.
Then, “It’s getting late. I’ve to call my Dad. Gotta go,” she gathered her things.
“Will there be a next time?”
“Sure. And next time, grab me,” she walked away with a wink.
He certainly did.
Thursday, July 1, 2010
Romance Part 2
Husbands and Poets
She was sure, as the priest read the rites; she was where she should be—right here with him whom she has loved for as long as she can remember. It wasn’t difficult saying Yes to him when he proposed. Who would say no, with all the flowers and the candles and the violins and the champagne? Who would?
But as the priest asked her, if she took this man to be her lawfully wedded husband, she took off her heels and broke into a run down the aisle away from him. She hailed a cab, her gown was caught in the cab door and when she looked back he wasn’t there calling after her.
She went back to the hotel to change into jeans, sneakers, a white turtleneck sweater, and a purple beret. She did not have time to take off her makeup. She made the call, the call her Dad assured her he would always take and he took it.
“Dad?” tears were falling on her cheeks for reasons she could not fathom.
“I’m here honey. What happened? Why did you run?” he was calm and he was obviously still in the church. It sounded like a Saturday market in there.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I was so sure, but suddenly I wasn’t. I was scared,” she was calmer now. She put her Dad on speaker phone as she put her stuff away and packed her luggage for the beach.
“Okay. What do you want to do? Is there a place you want to go?” his calm demeanor soothed her.
“The beach, just please help me get to the beach,” she sighed. She never felt so tired in her life.
“I got you. A car will pick you up in ten minutes. Whatever you do, remember I love you,” he said. She heard his voice, her fiancé’s voice. She did not know if he still was.
She woke up to the roar of waves in her small cabana the following morning. Her father’s private plane took her to Bohol and his staff took care of everything. She did not even remember taking her wallet with her but she found a pocketbook with cash and credit cards in her luggage. Trust her Dad to condone everything she does. She should have been a brat, the way he spoiled her but she had enough sense to know how far she can push the envelope with him. And they both knew she knew what she was doing 99% of the time. This time though she wasn’t so sure.
She got a lifeguard and snorkeled across the islands in the morning. At midday, she asked someone to drive her to the Tagbilaran City for lunch at a Swiss deli. In the afternoon she slept. She wasn’t interested in bars and drinking so at night she called her friend Reena to ask about the aftermath of her walkout.
She was walking along the beach, looking at the blinking lights along the coast. She wished her life was as simple as a fisherman’s, that she wasn’t who she was and that there weren’t so many obligations to so many people.
“Hey,” she said with a catch in her voice.
“How are you? What happened? Or would you rather not talk about it?” you could tell she was afraid she’d be on the verge of a breakdown.
“I’m pretty good. I want to see him to explain. I don’t know he would though, after what I did. I didn’t mean to run. But I did, but I’m not sure. I’m sorry I did,” She wanted to cry but tears wouldn’t come. She was wishing on the lights, bring him to me, please, please God, bring him to me.
“You’re not good. Goodness, will you please let yourself feel bad, Maya? I’m sure you had a pretty good reason. No one blames you. Jim doesn’t,” Reena was a comfort.
“Thanks, but if you see him, please tell him where I am. If he could come I’d be grateful.” She said bye then and headed to her cottage. She had a heavy meal and sang videoke with the other guests on the resort. She turned in at 12 midnight. She forgot her medication.
It was Carla’s voice that woke her the following morning. Carla was her other best friend. She had Jim in tow. Maya woke up with a start, wondering if she was seeing things as she saw Jim there, like she hoped, like she dreamed.
“I know I am being nosey but you two need help. I’m your fairy godmother. Jim, Maya. Maya, Jim. Now get it on,” Carla said with a laugh as she backed out of the room.
He stood there at the foot of her bed looking every bit as handsome as she remembered. She pulled up the sheets to her chin belatedly remembering she only had her panties on.
“Could you please let me get dressed?” she said rubbing her eyes.
“Sure,” Jim said quiet and watchful. Then he went to the wardrobe and pulled out a whole ensemble of shirt and shorts and underwear. “Take a shower. I’ll wait at the dining room, let’s have breakfast together.”
He never did that before—prepare her things—and at that moment she felt more married to him than any wedding rite could make her feel.
She took her time, she even blow dried her hair and put on a little make up. She carefully chose from her sparse arsenal of accessories. She went to the dining room ready to face his wrath. Or his sorrow. But he was calm, like her running away was more expected than her going through with the whole wedding ritual.
“I know you like mushroom and cheese omelet, so I ordered that for you. But you ask for the rest of what you like,” he smiled the easy smile of someone who knew what exactly he was doing.
“I actually don’t know what I’m doing,” he said as if reading her mind. He rubbed the back of his neck like he always did. “Heck I don’t know why I am here, why I am even with you after what happened.” He closed his eyes and a tear fell on the table.
“Because,” Maya, usually loquacious, had no words.
“Should I even be trying? Obviously you can’t make that commitment to me, so tell me, what I should be doing,” he took a deep breath.
“I just want to be. I just want to be with you. I don’t want a thousand pairs of eyes watching us when I tell you I do. I want a life with you. I don’t want a show that people can judge depending on how they’re feeling that day. I want something real.”
“My God, Maya, when was I never real with you?”
“These past few months, I felt like you were moving farther and farther away from me. We got so caught up with the show, I think we lost sight of why we were getting married in the first place. And I don’t want to ever forget why I’m with you. That day at the church, it felt so wrong,” her hands were all wrung, as if she was afraid the wrong words would drive him away.
He sighed a deep sigh, as if trying to be patient with a truant child. “So what do you want?”
“Let’s try, here, what it would be like to be together. See if it is what we want, if we could stick it out despite the mundane,” she challenged him.
“Okay. Let me make a few calls, I just need to let people know where I am. I got a honeymoon leave from the office so I might as well use that,” he said.
They started their life together on that beach, with that breakfast in the resort. They retired to her cabin, they did not get a bigger one because they admitted to each other they liked being enclosed in a small space together.
They slept the whole morning, and when it was lunch time they drove in a rental to the city to eat at her favorite Swiss deli. It became their lunch place. They drove over there everyday for the rest of their lengthy stay to have lunch.
They made plans to tour the entire island the following day. Each day found them at a new destination until they exhausted the attractions of the island. It was then that they learned more about the other. He knew she was a morning person, but he never knew she wrote poetry first thing every morning.
She knew he had to shave twice a day but it was only then that she learned he uses shower cream instead of shaving cream. He liked sleeping across the bed, so they did.
And he liked spooning instead of sleeping facing each other.
She could eat eggs every day, he could eat dried fish. They both love cold chocolate milk and French toast.
When there was nothing left to do, they’d lie down on the hammocks tied to the palm trees facing the beach talking of their plans.
On the second month, he said, “Is this how life will be always?”
“No, this isn’t reality. But I am glad we had time together here. I like life with you,” Maya said with a smile.
“So what’s the next step?”
“We make it legal. But without the big production number, if you can live with that.”
“I can live with that. I just thought it was what you wanted. I’m sorry I assumed,” he seemed sheepish.
“I just want you. Not the show you can afford, not the party you can provide,” she said emphatically.
“I get it. I like life with you, too.”
She called her Dad in the evening. She was ready to get married. She promised not to run away this time.
She was sure, as the priest read the rites; she was where she should be—right here with him whom she has loved for as long as she can remember. It wasn’t difficult saying Yes to him when he proposed. Who would say no, with all the flowers and the candles and the violins and the champagne? Who would?
But as the priest asked her, if she took this man to be her lawfully wedded husband, she took off her heels and broke into a run down the aisle away from him. She hailed a cab, her gown was caught in the cab door and when she looked back he wasn’t there calling after her.
She went back to the hotel to change into jeans, sneakers, a white turtleneck sweater, and a purple beret. She did not have time to take off her makeup. She made the call, the call her Dad assured her he would always take and he took it.
“Dad?” tears were falling on her cheeks for reasons she could not fathom.
“I’m here honey. What happened? Why did you run?” he was calm and he was obviously still in the church. It sounded like a Saturday market in there.
“I don’t know. I don’t know. I was so sure, but suddenly I wasn’t. I was scared,” she was calmer now. She put her Dad on speaker phone as she put her stuff away and packed her luggage for the beach.
“Okay. What do you want to do? Is there a place you want to go?” his calm demeanor soothed her.
“The beach, just please help me get to the beach,” she sighed. She never felt so tired in her life.
“I got you. A car will pick you up in ten minutes. Whatever you do, remember I love you,” he said. She heard his voice, her fiancé’s voice. She did not know if he still was.
She woke up to the roar of waves in her small cabana the following morning. Her father’s private plane took her to Bohol and his staff took care of everything. She did not even remember taking her wallet with her but she found a pocketbook with cash and credit cards in her luggage. Trust her Dad to condone everything she does. She should have been a brat, the way he spoiled her but she had enough sense to know how far she can push the envelope with him. And they both knew she knew what she was doing 99% of the time. This time though she wasn’t so sure.
She got a lifeguard and snorkeled across the islands in the morning. At midday, she asked someone to drive her to the Tagbilaran City for lunch at a Swiss deli. In the afternoon she slept. She wasn’t interested in bars and drinking so at night she called her friend Reena to ask about the aftermath of her walkout.
She was walking along the beach, looking at the blinking lights along the coast. She wished her life was as simple as a fisherman’s, that she wasn’t who she was and that there weren’t so many obligations to so many people.
“Hey,” she said with a catch in her voice.
“How are you? What happened? Or would you rather not talk about it?” you could tell she was afraid she’d be on the verge of a breakdown.
“I’m pretty good. I want to see him to explain. I don’t know he would though, after what I did. I didn’t mean to run. But I did, but I’m not sure. I’m sorry I did,” She wanted to cry but tears wouldn’t come. She was wishing on the lights, bring him to me, please, please God, bring him to me.
“You’re not good. Goodness, will you please let yourself feel bad, Maya? I’m sure you had a pretty good reason. No one blames you. Jim doesn’t,” Reena was a comfort.
“Thanks, but if you see him, please tell him where I am. If he could come I’d be grateful.” She said bye then and headed to her cottage. She had a heavy meal and sang videoke with the other guests on the resort. She turned in at 12 midnight. She forgot her medication.
It was Carla’s voice that woke her the following morning. Carla was her other best friend. She had Jim in tow. Maya woke up with a start, wondering if she was seeing things as she saw Jim there, like she hoped, like she dreamed.
“I know I am being nosey but you two need help. I’m your fairy godmother. Jim, Maya. Maya, Jim. Now get it on,” Carla said with a laugh as she backed out of the room.
He stood there at the foot of her bed looking every bit as handsome as she remembered. She pulled up the sheets to her chin belatedly remembering she only had her panties on.
“Could you please let me get dressed?” she said rubbing her eyes.
“Sure,” Jim said quiet and watchful. Then he went to the wardrobe and pulled out a whole ensemble of shirt and shorts and underwear. “Take a shower. I’ll wait at the dining room, let’s have breakfast together.”
He never did that before—prepare her things—and at that moment she felt more married to him than any wedding rite could make her feel.
She took her time, she even blow dried her hair and put on a little make up. She carefully chose from her sparse arsenal of accessories. She went to the dining room ready to face his wrath. Or his sorrow. But he was calm, like her running away was more expected than her going through with the whole wedding ritual.
“I know you like mushroom and cheese omelet, so I ordered that for you. But you ask for the rest of what you like,” he smiled the easy smile of someone who knew what exactly he was doing.
“I actually don’t know what I’m doing,” he said as if reading her mind. He rubbed the back of his neck like he always did. “Heck I don’t know why I am here, why I am even with you after what happened.” He closed his eyes and a tear fell on the table.
“Because,” Maya, usually loquacious, had no words.
“Should I even be trying? Obviously you can’t make that commitment to me, so tell me, what I should be doing,” he took a deep breath.
“I just want to be. I just want to be with you. I don’t want a thousand pairs of eyes watching us when I tell you I do. I want a life with you. I don’t want a show that people can judge depending on how they’re feeling that day. I want something real.”
“My God, Maya, when was I never real with you?”
“These past few months, I felt like you were moving farther and farther away from me. We got so caught up with the show, I think we lost sight of why we were getting married in the first place. And I don’t want to ever forget why I’m with you. That day at the church, it felt so wrong,” her hands were all wrung, as if she was afraid the wrong words would drive him away.
He sighed a deep sigh, as if trying to be patient with a truant child. “So what do you want?”
“Let’s try, here, what it would be like to be together. See if it is what we want, if we could stick it out despite the mundane,” she challenged him.
“Okay. Let me make a few calls, I just need to let people know where I am. I got a honeymoon leave from the office so I might as well use that,” he said.
They started their life together on that beach, with that breakfast in the resort. They retired to her cabin, they did not get a bigger one because they admitted to each other they liked being enclosed in a small space together.
They slept the whole morning, and when it was lunch time they drove in a rental to the city to eat at her favorite Swiss deli. It became their lunch place. They drove over there everyday for the rest of their lengthy stay to have lunch.
They made plans to tour the entire island the following day. Each day found them at a new destination until they exhausted the attractions of the island. It was then that they learned more about the other. He knew she was a morning person, but he never knew she wrote poetry first thing every morning.
She knew he had to shave twice a day but it was only then that she learned he uses shower cream instead of shaving cream. He liked sleeping across the bed, so they did.
And he liked spooning instead of sleeping facing each other.
She could eat eggs every day, he could eat dried fish. They both love cold chocolate milk and French toast.
When there was nothing left to do, they’d lie down on the hammocks tied to the palm trees facing the beach talking of their plans.
On the second month, he said, “Is this how life will be always?”
“No, this isn’t reality. But I am glad we had time together here. I like life with you,” Maya said with a smile.
“So what’s the next step?”
“We make it legal. But without the big production number, if you can live with that.”
“I can live with that. I just thought it was what you wanted. I’m sorry I assumed,” he seemed sheepish.
“I just want you. Not the show you can afford, not the party you can provide,” she said emphatically.
“I get it. I like life with you, too.”
She called her Dad in the evening. She was ready to get married. She promised not to run away this time.
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