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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