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“I’ve waited a very long time to ask you this question and since we both agreed not to waste any more time I thought I would go ahead and ask. I’ll never again make you a promise I won’t keep. I love you, Dalla
s. Gift me the other half of my heart. Marry me, be my wife?”
I nodded quickly, throwing my arms around him, unable to utter a single word as I cried into his chest. He picked me up, carrying me to the bed, cradling my head in his palm, looking down at me as he set the open box on my chest and my eyes wandered to it. It was absolutely perfect. He removed the ring as I raised my finger and he slipped it on.
“It’s about time,” I croaked, my face soaked with tears of joy.
“Sorry I’m late,” he whispered as he cradled my face above me.
“Way to go, Martin,” I murmured as his lips came down to meet mine.
We laid Beatrice to rest a month later in a quiet cemetery on the outskirts of Dallas. She left her geriatric cat to me, and though I was reluctant at first, we managed to get along well. Minutes after Beatrice passed, a tornado touched down in downtown Dallas, heading right toward the hospital. The irony was not lost on me when I was completely unafraid of the raging cloud. The storm that had terrified me in my dreams had actually managed to bring an eerie calm on a day when I should have been anything but. It became clear to me in those few minutes when the large cloud raged its fury over us that what I feared most was the loss of control, and that some deep seated need in me craved to reign over things I had absolutely no power over. I couldn’t change the past or the mistakes I had made, and I damn sure had no ability to predict the future. And no matter how hard I tried, I would never stop the storms from coming. Letting go of that illusion of control had freed me in those moments and I was never going back.
You live, you love, you lose. You fall down, and you get back up.
That was living. And if you can manage to weather the storm, you came out that much stronger and more capable of handling the next one.
No one lost their life that day and the hospital suffered minimum damage. Somehow, I knew that Beatrice’s passing had everything to do with that tornado. It was if she was telling me not to be afraid.
I got her message loud and clear.
I married the love of my life in a small ceremony in his mother’s garden. He looked on at me as I said my vows, his posture rattling with what I knew was pride and excitement. His eyes glittered as his love overflowed. And even though he had his own vows to recite, I felt his promise to me before he ever uttered a single word. When we were finally married and he kissed me deeply to seal our fate, he raised our hands together and shook them in victory as our guests laughed. My husband was an amazing sight in his perfectly manicured tux and flawless hair, but what was most breathtaking was the way he regarded me. In those moments between I do and I do, I became keenly aware of what I truly meant to him, and it was then I knew in our relationship we both thought we loved each other more than the other.
My mother had always told my sister and I when we found love to give it everything we had. That no matter the outcome, the result of handing yourself over to love would be that you had truly lived through the act of loving alone. She said the best part of falling in love was the fall itself. She added that the feeling can’t be matched or replace but only remembered of the biggest highlights of a person’s life. I never truly understood her words…until today.
There is a saying that goes “Marriage requires falling in love many times with the same person.”
As my husband took my hand to lead me to the dance floor and I gazed into his beautiful blue eyes, I knew we would have unseen storms to go through and times we may be uncertain about the future, but what I was absolutely sure of is that I would always look forward to the fall.
Dallas
Two and a half years later
I walked into my parent’s house with my two screaming children and as soon as I saw an adult in my line of sight capable of taking the noise away, I handed them over. In this instance, the adult waiting was Rose who met my eyes with a small amount of sympathy and a large amount of amusement.
“Never, ever have sex again,” I warned, absolutely exhausted as she took thirteen month Annabelle from my arms, who was still protesting in her most authoritative voice that she wanted the purple yogurt that I had given Grant.
“This is over yogurt?” Rose asked, kissing Annabelle’s plump cheek and soothing her back with her hands. She eyed Grant, all of twenty-two months, who stood by my side, arms crossed and shaking his head like a disapproving adult.
“That happened this morning. They are tired. Please make them disappear,” I said, waving my hand in dismissal. I needed a few minutes to regain my senses long enough to be the mother they needed. I climbed upstairs at a slow crawl my mother at the top of the stairs, a knowing smile on her lips, completely happy over my misery.
“Dallas, how are you?” she asked, chuckling as I pulled myself up at an agonizing pace.
“How in the hell did you do it, Mom? How? My God, I haven’t bathed alone in years!”
“God made them cute so you won’t kill them.” She chuckled again, wrapping me in her arms as I hit the top of the stairs.
“I just want a bath with no interruption, is that too much to ask?” I said very close to selfish tears.
“Paul and Hillary are bringing over the twins. We can make a night of it. Towels in the closet, candles too, and there is some really awesome tonic in my bathroom. Go there. Go on, baby. I can handle this.”
“Mom, I’m sorry for everything I have ever done,” I said, hugging her tight.
“Go on, Dallas, that bath will change your life.” She eyed me proudly as she brushed my hair behind my shoulders.
I almost skipped down the hall with renewed energy as I grabbed a fresh towel and some candles and made my way into the quiet of the bathroom. I undressed quickly and turned the water on as hot as my skin could stand it. I poured a small amount of my mother’s tonic into the water instantly smelling the citrus and breathing in deeply. I lit two candles and stood in front of the mirror studying my body. I had fared well with the birth of Grant seven short months after my wedding but had suffered horribly at the hands of Annabelle. There were faint but large stretch marks etched over the top of my stomach. Dean had told me time and time again that he loved them and thought they were beautiful.
Idiot.
