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

As they stood and started making their way across the room, the waiter and a few staffers began removing their things. Exiting the dining area and walking out into the atrium area of the lobby, while passing the reception desk they both notice the large round clock hanging on the wall. Beautifully trimmed with a black-walnut finish, the mirrored glass with etched Roman numerals beneath its brass hands displayed the time 11:10 p.m.

Noticing several couples hanging out talking and taking in the romantic allurement of the tropical night, he quickly suggested they linger for a while.

“Hey, lets sit over here until they‘re finished upstairs,” he whispered, as he gently guided her over toward the seating area around the fireplace.

“My God. This is so beautiful.” She commented, as they made their way over and sat before the crackling fire. “I didn’t notice this when we walked through here earlier.”

“I figured the two of you wouldn’t mind finishing off your bubbly. I took the liberty of pouring what was left into these. Perhaps one for the ride up before you retire to your suite for the night,” suggested the waiter as he drew near with two semi-filled flutes sitting on a tray.

“Thank you. Thanks Gabriel!” Each replied as they reached over and grabbed one, before he turned and walked away.

“I loving you so much right now,” she sighed, as she gazed over into his eyes.

“Rose. I want you to know I believe we can get through this. I really mean it,” he tenderly added. “My mother once said adversity is one of the greatest gifts we can receive. She said, ‘It could put you at your lowest, or convince you to put all faith in God. Or it can strip you of all your pride and breathe humility into you. Either way, it’s up to you to choose to triumph over it.’”

“I love you so much…” she repeated, as she remained peering into his eyes.

“And I love you also. Isn’t that a beautiful fire?” he added, as his attention shifted.

“Yes, it is a beautiful fire. But honey I’m trying to hold a conversation with you right now,” she insisted, in a passive tone.

“I’m sorry. It is just that…well, you know. What we talked about in the restaurant. The candles… and their flames.” he added. “And now this fire… it’s the way my heart feels, like its on fire. I feel so overwhelmed with love for you. It doesn’t sound too strange, does it?”

“No. No… not at all. I’m sorry I interrupted you. Yes. It is a beautiful fire,” she added, as she turned and gazed at its glow.

“Sir. Madam…your suite is ready,” injected the manager. “You can go up whenever you like. Everything should be to your approval,” he added, before turning and walking away.

Exchanging glances as anxiety crept upon their faces, their sudden silence subtly revealed the tenderness of their emotions. Though having shared nearly nineteen years together, at the moment it seemed they hardly knew each other. Thrust into a torrent of uncontrollable thoughts, they both found themselves feeling nervous as the possibility of becoming intimate drew nearer.

Retreating from his thoughts as he gazed deeper into the fire, in a haunting moment of reflection he suddenly felt his pain revisiting. The unpredictable course of love can sometimes strip away at the very essence of our reason. And without warning, twist our emotions into something we could never comprehend.

As unpredictable as the uncertainties of life itself, the challenges that love wields can break through the most impenetrable of hearts. It has the power to shape us into someone beyond the expected. And yet, create in us an alter ego of the most unimaginative persona.

It can take a life of expectations and lead it toward a destiny that is never imagined. It can take a good heart and turn it bad, as well as control over a bad one and make it good. It is a metamorphosis in itself, a transition into the often unknown.

Though with it seeming as everything to some. And yet nothing to others, it is out of our ignorance of its powers that we foolishly struggle to conquer, contain, and in some cases, consume it in its purest form.

And yet, while not fully grasping the desires or potential demise of our own hearts. We naively avert ourselves from receiving what is meant to bind us, as we attempt to define our motives and happiness through of the joy and pain of others.

“I know…I know,” he reached over and comforted her as tears began to fall.

“God, I really messed things up. Didn’t I?” she cried out.

“No. No beautiful. My love for you is still strong. I’m still here for you…always.”

“Are you sure? I can’t have a life without you. I just can’t make it without you. I need for you tell me it is going to be okay. Tell me. Is it okay?” she pleaded.

“Yes. Yes we are going to get through this. Whatever happens after we leave here, we will make it through…together.”

“I really needed to hear that.” She replied in a relieving tone. “I needed to feel it in my heart, especially at this point.” she added, referring to her diagnosis.

“We should head on upstairs.” He insisted, as he thumbed tears from his eyes.

“Okay. Right after I finish this…” she answered, while reaching for her flute.

Deep inside she always knew she had a good man. Not once had he ever treated her insensitively. I’ve heard women express how content they would be if they just had someone who was willing to listen to what they had to say. He has always provided her with that kind of affection, the kind of loving attention that most women would die to have in their marriage.

Haunted by her misdeed, on the flight over she imagined him telling her their marriage was over. If they were to divorce it would not only impact their lives. It would also have a grave affect on how Amy and myself would come view it in our own.

To have once had a good man in your life and then lose him, a girl could spend the rest of her days comparing every guy that comes along to that one that got away. And then there is the chance of living out the rest of what would be considered a life sentence dealing with the worst of the worst.

Shortly after finishing their drinks they both rose to their feet and made their way over to the elevators. Just as they arrived a set of doors timely opened. They immediately boarded as they quickly closed behind them. With each making their way to a side of the car, it slowly began its ascension.

Slowly turning and facing him, she asked, “What is marriage to you?”

“You tell me first. What does it mean to you?” he answered in a stern tone.

“What does it mean to me?” she repeated as she leaned back unto the rail, taking a few seconds to gather her thoughts.

“To me marriage is an institution.