Third installment

Looking at her was the greatest pleasure of his life. There wasn't anything on earth that he would indulge so guiltlessly in. He had the satisfaction of staring at her and knowing that it was okay, that he had the right, that despite her apparent uncomfortableness and embarrassment, even though she protested and blushed and laughed nervously, he could look at this woman, his wife, without restriction or apology. Every part of her was his.  He liked to think about the time when she hated him passionately. He could vividly recall the fire of revulsion in her eyes, her lip curling with disdain. He knew he had been a fool, but he thought it rather funny how life had played out and how things had unfolded. He always felt drawn to her, but he hadn't known how to approach her back then, so it was not short of miraculous that she had given him another chance. But that was just like Cathy, he thought. Her heart was too big, too generous. She was stubborn and proud, but she was incredibly just and kind, so she had eventually come to accept that even a jerk like himself could change.

And had he been a jerk? Absolutely. He had deserved every bit of her judgment and scorn. He was arrogant and selfish; he had been a bully, trying to compensate for his own insecurities by putting others down. He had known himself to be liked, admired, and desired, and it was on that vain foundation that he had built who he thought he ought to be. But she had seen right through him from day one. He had looked in her eyes and had seen all those things that made him feel insecure and weak and small. She was like the burning bush—enticing and terrifying all at once. In his refusal to admit that he was fake and shallow, he had declared her an enemy and a challenge to be conquered. First he had planned to break her, then he had come to want her—yes, for all the wrong reasons. But neither scheme had worked: she knew who she was and who he wasn't, and her determination to dislike him would not waiver. That’s when he had started to care about what she had to say, but by then it was too late to make her change her mind about him. So he had to just look at her once in a while, when he made her angry, and then see her bright hazel eyes light up and her face turn scarlet with fury.  That was the most genuine and most beautiful thing he could have aspired to see in a life full of facades.  

“What are you staring at?” she asked cheekily. He kept his gaze on her and advanced confidently, tipping her chin up and kissing her. It still felt like the first time.

After high school, he thought he’d never see her again. She would attend the local prestigious university and make something of herself, while he went out of state to a mediocre university on a football scholarship. The novelty of it all made him forget about her—there were plenty of girls willing to feed his ego in college. Looking back, he could see with horror the direction his life had taken and was grateful his life had crumbled the way it had. After a disastrous first year (both in the field and the classroom), the school had withdrawn his scholarship, and he found himself with a big suitcase and a one-way ticket back home. He was angry and humiliated, but spent his time blaming fate for his own shortcomings. He quietly entered the local community college and bitterly continued his studies, growing angrier and angrier about his situation. Little did he know that life would ask him to man up soon.

That night, mass brought a mix of feelings to his heart. It was the first Christmas he spent as a husband, and his face beamed with pride as he escorted his wife to have a seat among the congregation. He always thought her beautiful, but tonight he thought she looked stunningly so, and his heart tingled with elation. It was a year ago he had proposed to her, on his parents’ porch.  It had been simple and perhaps even anti-climatic, but he wouldn't have done it any other way. He knew she wouldn't have liked it if he would have made a big deal of it and dropped on one knee in front of a bunch of people. She appreciated her autonomy above most displays of romanticism, and giving her an audience to pressure her into accepting his hand would have triggered her stubbornness. So he waited for the right moment that night, and as they sat on the porch after dinner, he had looked at her, with a mustache of foamy hot cocoa on her upper lip, and, kissing her, had told her he wanted her to be his wife. He had smiled, put the little black box on the little coffee table and, taking up the now empty mugs, had gone back into the house to put them in the sink. That walk to the kitchen was the longest he had ever taken. Anticipation was eating at his heart. He knew how much it had taken for her to give him at chance originally, so he couldn't be entirely sure if she would accept. But just as he was putting the mugs in the sink, he heard the front door was flung open.

“Who leaves an engagement ring on a table and walks away? Who does that?”

“Well, me… apparently.”

He had turned around just in time to catch her in his arms.

“Who could say no to that pair of eyes?”

“If anyone could, it would be you.”

She had laughed as she continued hanging from his neck. “Let’s get married, pretty eyes.”

He looked at her from the corner of his eye as he remembered all this and saw tears in her eyes. He squeezed her hand gently and smiled. He looked at the Christ hanging from the huge crucifix at the front of the church and thanked God from the bottom of his heart for it all. When life had seemed to be crumbling, God had put her back in his life, with her feisty eyes and that starry night of freckles on her face.

When they had returned to the house, she had asked him for the car keys because she had left her phone in the car. He had started playing with little CJ, so he didn't think twice about handing the keys and having her go out on her own. After a few minutes, he realized he hadn't heard the front door open again, so he took the toddler in his arms and went to the window. His heart sank: Cathy was just outside the gate, her hand on the arm of a tall, hunched over man. It only took him a moment to recognize him, even in the dark. He was propelled to run outside, but a strange cooling force seemed to have locked his limbs in place. He swallowed slowly; he tightened his jaws; he, with CJ still in his arms, glued his eyes to the window. 

His view of her face was limited, but he could see the man’s face and his reactions to what she would say. He saw them smiling at each other and his blood ran cold. But no, he would not go outside, he would not move one step. He would trust her—even if his heart was paralyzed with fear and his mind was running wild. He would trust her. He saw the smiles disappearing and watched this man take a step forward and lean in while she remained still. The walls of his throat were closing up. He would trust her. He knew her better than anyone—they had shared things with each other that they hadn’t with anyone else. His wife—his. His curls, his freckles, his silky lips, his hazel eyes, his long, strong legs, his shoulder birthmark. He would trust her.

He remembered the first time she had kissed him. It had been their fifth date (yes, it had taken her that long!). They had gone to a basketball playoff game and he had teased her about being shown on the Kiss Cam. She had agreed to kiss him if they were shown on the screen, so he had secretly prayed that they would, but he had no luck. At the end of the game, after a disappointing score, they had been walking back to the car and she was making fun of him about his bad luck with the game and the Kiss Cam. He was hotheaded, and her teasing had gotten to him, so he had started walking faster.

“Hey! Wait for me!”

He had kept walking, but he turned around when he heard her running toward him and shouting “charge!!” He had barely caught her in his arms when the touch of her lips on his set his heart on fire.

“You’re such a grumpy old man sometimes.” Her eyes had been half closed, her hands travelling through his hair.

“So… does this mean you’re my girl now?”

“Your girl? How old are you again?”

“Old enough to catch you every time you decide to jump on me like a crazy person.”

“I think I’d like that”, she smiled and kissed him again.

He would trust her.

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Something new, part II

She could hear her heart thundering with anticipation. Her eyes kept wandering off to the microwave clock. Every hour seemed to stretch longer and longer. She felt she could lose her mind and start shouting it at the top of her lungs.

“Are you sure you are okay? Something’s definitely up.”

“I’m fine, mom,” she said, hiding her smile, and continued chopping the vegetables.

Christmas was the most important day for the family and she had helped with the cooking ever since she was old enough to mince. The festivities were so dear to her—the smell of cinnamon filling the air, the warmth of the oven and the fireplace, the glow of the Christmas tree. The fondest memories were those of joyous, peaceful Christmases when she had been nourished, healed, and loved. It was this tiny old house that her parents worked so hard for that had been her refuge and her fortress, and there was not a more special place in the world for the rest of her life to unfold.

“Your father says they’re on their way, so there weren’t any delays. I think we’ll have enough time to get to mass.”

She beamed a smile at her mother and her mother stared at her in awe, with tears in her eyes.

“A mother’s joy is greatest when she sees her children being radiantly happy,” the gentle lady said, wrapping her arms around the waist of her much taller daughter. Her mom was a poet at heart, and she always came up with the most profoundly moving little proverbs. It was to this woman that she owed everything: her autonomy, her self-esteem, and her determination to be happy. Her parents had never had it easy, yet not once did she see her mom let the shadow of uncertainty or the darkness of pessimism poison her mind. Perhaps her sister and she had lacked a few material comforts, but her parents had compensated for that with love and understanding.

“It’s special, ma.”

“I know, sweetie.”

“It’s kind of surreal.”

“Well, of course it is. If you would have told me three Christmases ago, ‘Mom, I’m going marry that boy from high school I used to fight with all the time!’ I would have peed with laughter!”

“Mom!”

“Well, honey, I wouldn’t have believed it. You wouldn’t have believed it!”

He was the jock who every girl in school had a crush on. She was the feminist who was instantly repulsed by anyone with a GPA of less than 3.0 (and she thought that was herself being tolerant). She saw him as a misogynist pig with a superiority complex and he saw her as a sexually frustrated—possibly gay—overachieving nerd. He made it his mission to annoy her every day during Government class, and, having a tinge of the dramatic in her personality, she quickly declared war on him.

“He was impossible, mom, and a bully.”

“Oh, you are such a drama queen, honey.”

“You know it’s true! How many times did I come home crying?”
“Yes, crying with rage because people liked ‘a senseless jerk with poorly-informed opinions’, as I recall.”

“You have a scarily good memory, mother.”

“I’m a mother, my dear. I’m not allowed to forget anything. But I know that—deep, deep down—you always liked him.”

“I did not!!”

“Oh honey, who can resist that pair of dreamy green eyes? That’s a perfect face if I ever saw one.”

She blushed profusely and smiled from ear to ear, “well, even if he was a big jerk, I must admit that I was not entirely blinded by my dislike of him. But he really was awful, ma. He’s admitted as much—”

She stopped short when she heard footsteps on the porch and the door creaking open. Both women quickly wiped their hands on kitchen towels and rushed to the entry way to greet the rest of the family.

“Go give Aunt Cathy a kiss, CJ!”
The toddler wobbled his way to his aunt, who lifted his chubby body up in her arms and embraced him.

“Hi, baby!” her sister said. To everyone at home, she was still the baby, even now as a married woman.

“He’s so big, Lily!”

“You’re so beautiful, C. Marriage suits you,” said her sister with a wink. Their mom came over and threw her arms around the pair (toddler and all). The three men observed them.

“The loves of my life… right there,” said the proud patriarch.

“Come here, papa”, beckoned his wife. His tanned arms locked around her, his daughters, and grandchild.

Her sister and brother-in-law went to the back of the house, to her old bedroom, to freshen up and unpack, while her parents walked back to the kitchen in animated chatter. She was rocking CJ in her arms and playing with him until she felt his eyes were fixed on her.

“What are you staring at?”

He only smiled and continued to gaze at her, making her light-headed and fluttery-hearted. He walked towards her and, gently grabbing her chin, planted a kiss on her mouth. It still felt like the first time, as if it was just yesterday: they had been taking a stroll in the park and eating ice cream cones one Sunday afternoon after church and he had pulled her by the hand towards him and given her a vanilla-flavored kiss.

“Don’t you ever dare doing that again,” she had cried indignantly, but her knees were weak and her breath quick, so she was glad he was holding her steady. His eyes were emeralds shinning with sunlight as he looked down at her.

“I will do it as many times as I need to until you say yes,” he smiled.

“No, Alex, I can’t do this. I’m glad you’ve changed so much, really. But we’re just friends…”
“ I don’t want your friendship. I know I have to prove myself to you and I will, but you have to give me a chance... I’m not him. I’m nothing like him... I see you. I always have.”

He had driven her back to her house and driven away feeling hopeless. She was convinced she couldn't see him as anything more than a friend, but her mother had helped her change her mind: “Remember the day he picked you up to go to the basketball game? While he was waiting for you he introduced himself and we quickly fell into conversation about how he used to argue with you in high school. He said he did it because he loved seeing your face flustered and your eyes shining with rage. He told me he hadn’t known how else to approach you… that he thought you were way out of his league. I took it as unnecessary flattery to gain points with the mother, but he’s really tried his hardest and he definitely looks determined, honey. Might not be the man you always imagined yourself with, but we know how that turned out, so maybe your intuitions are not the most accurate.”

Her mother's words had wounded her pride, but she eventually called him three days later to ask him out on a date. And now here he was, with his big gentle eyes and his radiant smile—every part of him was hers. It was all still such a mind-blowing novelty, and the exhilaration of having this man looking at her like no one else ever had was a delicious pleasure. He took little CJ from her arms and brushed the hair away from her face with the back of his hand.

“I’m staring at this beautiful face.”

“I rather like you with a baby.”
“It’s as good an accessory as a puppy.”

“But not as great as a kitten, huh?” she grinned, “would you take him to Lily? He needs to take his nap.”

She watched him walk away with the baby and her heart trembled. She had taken a gamble when she gave him a chance, not knowing if she would ever be able to feel what she had felt once. But her heart had, very slowly, grown used to him, and she hadn’t realized it until one day when she was, like now, looking at him striding away confidently as he always did. Back then, just yesterday, they had gone to a shelter for homeless people to volunteer with a Thanksgiving meal, and she had watched him going from table to table pouring lemonade into red plastic cups. She watched him walking around like he owned the place, with that smile and that laugh. She was thinking how beautiful he was and then he seemed to have guessed her thoughts, for he turned around and looked at her. It must have been only a couple seconds that he held her gaze, but it had seemed like the longest, loveliest, most glorious moment of her life. He saw her, he truly did. That’s when she knew. No one could look at her the way he did and she didn’t want them to.

She helped her mother finish dinner before they headed to the church for the vigil mass. She let her hair down and put on her dark blue dress, which was her favorite. Alex liked to match with her so he wore a dark blue vest under his brown scarf and corduroy jacket. The whole family, including little CJ, followed Christmas tradition and headed to St. James’ parish, which was about five miles away from their house. During mass, her heart filled with overwhelming joy and her eyes with happy tears. She felt his gaze and knew he was looking at her from the corner of his eye. When he reached out for her hand, she knew that his eyes must have been filled with the tears, too.  When she had been at her worst, she had heard a voice inside her say that happiness would never find her again. But she fought back, she confronted the shadows of the dark and now here she was, holding this massive, strong, smoooth hand between hers.

“Merry Christmas, pretty eyes.”

“Merry Christmas, my love.”

Because the house was small, there was only enough room for one car in her parent’s driveway, so Alex had parked the car on the curb, a few yards away from the house. After they came inside, she quickly realized she had left her phone in the car, so she asked him for the keys and walked back out to the car. The night was chilly and the cold wind made her face burn. She hurried back and as she closed the driveway gate to get back into the house, she noticed the shadow of a tall man approaching, until it finally stopped and lurked right over her. She turned around and felt her heart sink to the ground.

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