My Parent's Reconciliation Vacation (excerpt from Proverbial Woman), Part VII

Feeling the gravity of the moment bearing down upon the tenderness of his heart, he regretfully knew it had to be addressed. Even if it meant reliving the pain that he had been repressing for months. Slowly reaching for his flute and taking a sip, out of a drawing perspective he continued. “I don’t know, Rose, some people have the courage to jump right back in after being knocked down. I love you…I have no doubt about that. But the wounds you left are not healing easily. Where do we begin? I don’t know if I can ever trust you again. I just don’t feel like I could.”

“We should take it one day at a time.” she interrupted.

“What is one day when I live with it every moment!” he injected, angrily. “One night feels like a lifetime to me. I’ve lived this way for the past nine months. I no longer have a desire to work. All I think about is my life with my family. What about my needs? All I can focus on is what you’ve done to me. My world has completely shut down.”

“I’m sorry. I know there is nothing that I can say. And I know you are hurting…can you ever forgive me?” She whispered in a fainting tone, as she peered across the table. Before casting her eyes down and away from him, as silence drew upon them.

Falling into a contemplative state as he gazed upon the cluster of roses that sat between them, quietly he began wondering how could she remain so calm with all that is happening in their lives. Out from beneath a blurred stream of vision, he discreetly watched as she repeatedly took sips between intermittent bouts of gently stroking the stem of the flute with the fingernail of her forefinger.

‘Take a woman in control of her emotions, and watch as she manipulates any situation. Whereas with a man, everything has to be verbally scrutinized, until settled with justifiable reasoning.’ he thought to himself.

“Would you like to share those thoughts with me?” she inquired.

“No, I’m just drifting,” he answered, as he aimlessly glanced over in her direction.

“No. Please, finish with what you were saying,” she whispered as she reached for her glass and took another sip.

By now they were starting to feel the affects of the champagne as the conversation became more intense. Briefly grazing his face with the palm of his hand as he spent a stressful sigh, lovingly he looked over at her as he began to say, “Our difference of opinions is what has gotten us this far.

Having the patience to disagree and learn from each other’s perspective is what has help shape our marriage into what it is today. I’ve always considered it a pleasure to discuss things with you. Especially when there was disagreeing. Out of all of what has happened, what I’ve mostly learned from those experiences is that love is stronger than pride.
Take all those long nights of staring at the ceiling. Those countless days of walking around our home not speaking to one another, I can now say it was nothing but pride that kept us from getting on with our lives together.

Love has shown me things that I would have never seen on my own. It has taught me that you have to live with a forgiving heart in order for your marriage to grow. After all the pain and uncompromising situations, love will still be love, if you allow it to be.”
Trembling with fear and regret as emotions resonated throughout her body, she gradually turned away as tears began to fall from her eyes uncontrollably. Suddenly feeling lessened by the sincerity of his thoughts, out of the haze of her confusion she replied, “Do you know what it is like for a woman to lie alone in bed in the dark, and cry her heart out over a man?

Have you ever once considered the anxiety I was starting to feel? It’s a terrible thing to live with the fear of having to start over all by yourself. There were times when I really needed you. And you guys just assumed I was okay, just taking care of home.
As our marriage grew, it grew more in simplicity. Everything we done became routine until there was no zeal left in it. It was nothing exciting about the life of Tim and Rose Romero. I slowly became someone I didn’t know anymore. They say in life we become the results of our triumph and defeats…well, I felt defeated all the time.”

Pausing as she took a sip from her flute, she continued. “I never meant to hurt you. I only wanted to be held, touched, and loved the way you used to love me in the beginning. You used to say some of the nicest things. I missed that.”

Again pausing as she reached into her purse to retrieve a Kleenex. “I think we are going to need another bottle.”  She humorously added. Before taking another sip from her glass, after sitting the tissue off to the side.

“I guess I can say...” she hesitated, before adding in a trembling tone. “I just wanted to feel loved, and alive again. After not feeling appreciated for such a long time.”

“I’ve always appreciated you!” he injected.

“I know. But what I’m saying is different. I wanted to once again feel what you stop giving me. Don’t you remember? That wonderful feeling we had between us, that emotional high that I thought would never end. What I now miss so much...”

Staring into the somber flames from the candles as she wiped her tears from her eyes and adjusted her posture, he suddenly realized things had really changed between them. Shaken by the words of her heart, he sadly noticed his feelings were also no longer the same. Out of a haze of lingering thoughts, he aimlessly lifted his eyes as they slowly drew upon her as she proceeded to place her glass down once more.

“You have always been good to me.” She added. “But right after Amy was born you never once asked me what you could do to make me truly feel alive, like a woman should. You used to touch me and I would lose myself in the moment.

You used to reach for me in your sleep. And as I would to curl up next to you, I wouldn’t stop moving until I could feel you breathing down upon my neck with your heart beating on my back. Those are the little things that made me feel special. More than anything, loved.

Maybe I failed as a wife in letting you know these things when it could have matter the most to us. I’m sure it would’ve helped if only I would have told you what I was feeling. Especially what my heart truly needed at the time. But hopefully we’re beyond that now. Aren’t we? My prayer is that we can now grow together from this experience. God knows I don’t want to lose you.”

As silence once again interceded, uncertainty resurfaced as it sought refuge in shadows of unanswered questions of their lingering doubts. With an increasing look of disappointment settling in his eyes, he fought with everything he had left within to keep his bitterness at bay.

Concerned. And yet under great duress, hesitantly she reached for the tissue that she had previously sat off to the side. 

“At times you remind me more of a woman of substance, than the perceived wealthy housewife.” he subtly implied.

“What do you mean?” she asked. “And what is the difference?”

“The degree in which she thinks. Speaks. And respond to those she interact with.”

“What are you talking about Timothy?” she asked, with a discerning look upon her face.

“How you once gave me inspiration. The tenderness of your heart was my source of inspiration. I’ve always been willing to show you how much I admired that about you- Your kindness, honesty, and compassion have always brought me back to that point of reference.

I’ve watched those qualities blossom in you. And now after all of our life’s work, this happens. Whether it is human nature or just a matter of preference, you’ve shown me that the heart of a good woman is just as capable of unfaithfulness as that of an adulterous man.

Now I’m not going to sit here and try to conjure up theories on what would make someone become unfaithful in a marriage. But one thing I know is definitely for certain, it is all about choices. Whether you are happy or not, what you do to make a marriage work or fail is your choice. I know I’ve made mistakes in this marriage. But I’ve never done anything that would betray your love and trust.”

“I’m sorry for the interruption folks. But it look as if you guys can use another one,” injected the waiter as he moved in and proceeded to replenish their glasses. “There…just holler if you need anything else,” he added, as he switched out the empty bottle.

“Thanks! Thank you…” they both reciprocated as he proceeded to walk away.   

“Are you okay?” he asked, as he noticed her peering around the room.

“Yes. I’m fine. Thanks for asking,” she answered as she reached for her glass.

“You know, it’s funny.” He injected. “My heart still skips a beat from time to time when we are at one in each other’s thoughts.”

“What are you talking about?” she asked in a fainting tone.