by Lori L. Otto
“Of course you can, Emi. No one ever said you couldn’t.”
“It was implied,” she counters.
“No...”
“It’s always implied. You do everything for me.”
I take the next ramp off the highway.
“This isn’t our exit, is it?” she asks.
“Emi, honey,” I start slowly, “I want to talk to you about something, but I don’t want to be driving while I have this conversation with you. Plus, I saw this park earlier...”
“But it’s dark.”
“It’s perfect,” I tell her, finding a parking spot near the grouping of trees I had discovered this afternoon. “Come with me... please.” I take the bag I had prepared earlier from the backseat and walk to meet her on the other side of the car. She takes my hand and lets me lead the way to a picnic table.
“Hold on, just a second,” I stall, leaving her by one of the trees. “And close your eyes.”
“Jack...”
“Just... wait.” I take out the contents of the bag and arrange everything on the table. Once all of the items are in place, I press the play button on my iPod and walk over to her, putting my hand on the small of her back. “Go sit down.”
She smiles as she sees the familiar scene in front of her, and assumes her seat on top of the picnic table. “I was here, right?” she asks, the strain of our earlier conversation dissolving into a bright smile. She looks even more beautiful than she did that first night.
I had hoped for tonight to play out just like it did those many years ago in college, but I can’t wait for her to kiss me. My one regret from that night was not kissing her sooner. I walk over to her, on a mission, take her head in my hands, my fingers toying with her long hair, and I kiss her, ardently and passionately. She wraps her arms around my waist and pulls my body into hers.
“That was nice,” she whispers. I nod my head in agreement.
“Do you recognize the song?”
“It was playing in the background when I kissed you that night.”
“I wasn’t sure you’d remember it.”
“And the water,” she adds, picking up the cups and the bottle, “just like you brought it to me that night. I always thought it was cool that you were going to split it with me, instead of just bringing two bottles. I don’t know why.”
“Honestly, it was the only one I could find. But it seemed appropriate. I wanted to share something with you that night. I had given up on the kiss, so why not a bottle of water?” I laugh.
“What’s with the gum?”
“You were chewing cinnamon gum.”
“Was I?”
“You were.”
“And you remember that?” she asks me, unwrapping a stick of gum and placing it in her mouth.
“I remember everything. Every second that passed, every sight, smell, sound... touch...” My thumb rubs her cheek. “Taste...” I whisper in her ear as I move in to kiss her once more, my gaze unfaltering. My mouth brushes her lips, then presses against them harder. I feel her soft tongue on mine, tentative and sweet, tasting the spicy flavor of her gum. “This is where it all began for us, Em,” I tell her quietly. “A picnic table just like this one... this is where my life, with you, started. And from that point on, I wanted to be with you, forever.”
“Jack,” she says, her eyes becoming moist with tears.
“I still want that, Emi. But I am so tired of fighting with you. I don’t want to do it anymore.”
“Okay,” she says plainly, “but I still want to talk about tonight... not fight, okay? I’m not fragile, not anymore.”
“Alright, if this is really a concern, let’s just get it all out there... yes, you were once fragile– you were extremely fragile when we met last year, up to the point when we started dating and even a little beyond that. I felt like I had to take care of you.
“But since then, Emi, you have lived through something unimaginable, and you’ve come out of it victorious. You didn’t let it take your spirit... your fire. You became this amazing, strong woman that I love even more.
“I’m sorry if you think I’ve been overbearing. I’m sorry for making all the decisions. But I know you can take care of yourself... and for awhile, yes, I was actually afraid of that. I was afraid that you wouldn’t need me anymore.
“So has it been difficult for me to let go? To let loose every now and then? Yes, and I’m sorry you’re mistaking my intentions. But the truth is, in all of my life, I have been the one that other people relied on. I have been there to take care of the people I love.
“If you take anything away from what Matty said tonight, it should be this: that maybe this isn’t about how I see you. Maybe this is just who I am.”
“I do see that now,” she whispers. “I’m worried that... I won’t give you purpose anymore if I don’t need you like I once did.”
“I have moved so far beyond that at this point, Emi. I don’t do this for you alone anymore. Right now, I’m doing this for us. We need help. We need to be nurtured, and that’s where all of my focus will be until we are strong again.
“And once that’s done, Emi, I’m just going to put all of my energy into enjoying this life that we are making together. I’m going to share this immense responsibility with you... and you’re going to help. Together, we will take care of us, and whatever more life throws our way. I know we are stronger as a couple.”
“But even stronger as a family,” she mumbles.
“What?”
“Having children will let you take care of people. It’s, like, a need for you, isn’t it?”
“It’s really important to me,” I tell her. “But I’m trying to adjust to this idea of it being the two of us. There are definite advantages,” I smile at her as I lean in to kiss her again.
“Don’t,” she stops me.
“Don’t what?” I ask, leaning away, trying to read her eyes. “What now?” I sigh, exasperated.
“No,” she laughs. “It’s just... you don’t need to adjust to that idea. Maybe I can do this.”
“Emi, you can. And by no means do we have to do this right away. You know,” I say, sweeping her hair behind her ear, “we missed out on a lot of each other’s lives because of the outcome of that one night in college, Emi. Between the alcohol, the misread signals and the miscommunications, my inability to man up and... just... kiss you... everything became so complicated, and it should have been so simple. I fell completely in love with you that night. It was just about a man and a woman. Me and you. And a picnic table. And the most unexpected kiss. It should have been so simple.
“And really, that’s all it’s about now. A man and a woman in love. We’re overcomplicating things again. Let’s start over, Emi. Here on this picnic table, let’s commit to making this simple, like it should be. Just let me love you like I need to. That’s all I want. And for you to love me in return.”
“I do love you,” she confirms.
“Whatever fears you have, Emi, or doubts... just hand them over. Let me find a permanent home for them, far away. Let me give you hope and confidence... and life... in their place. Let go of the ‘what ifs’... and let’s just let life happen.”
“Okay,” she sighs.
“And let’s not give up on our dreams to have a family, Emi. Please. You want that. We both do, we’ve talked about it at length. Yes, it will be challenging, and yes, we may face disappointment, but as long as I know you’re with me, I can handle anything. Don’t you think you could, too, if you knew I would always be there?
“I do,” she answers, nodding with happy tears in her eyes.
“I will always be there.”
“Okay then,” she smiles after a moment of brief contemplation. “Let’s do it.” Her knees bounce with excitement on the bench.
“You’re in?” I laugh.
“Yeah,” she laughs. “I’m in.”
“Seriously? Just so I’m not misunderstanding, we can try to have a family together?”
“I want to raise
a family with you, Jack. I want to see you become a wonderful father to our children, and I know that we can do this together.”
“Thank you,” I sigh, grateful, pulling her into a tight embrace, never wanting to let her go.
We finish the bottle of water and listen to a few more grunge songs from our college days before heading back to the hotel.
“I need to get something out of the back of the SUV,” Emi says before I hand the keys to the valet. I press the button to open the back door and reach for the black bag spread out in the rear-facing seat.
“I got it,” Emi says, stepping in front of me.
“What is it?” I ask.
“It’s a hanging bag.” She struggles to pull the heavy bag up by the hanger, hugging it close to her body.
“And what’s in the hanging bag?”
“I bought a dress today,” she says.
“Mmmm,” I smile coyly at her. “Can I see it?”
“Absolutely...... not.” Puzzled, I ask her why. “It’s the kind of dress you’re not allowed to see... yet.” My heart stops for a second.
“Wait... as in a wedding dress?” She looks up at me with the faintest smile on her face. “Seriously?”
“I know, Anna’s going to kill me. She wanted to help me find one... but oh, my god, Jack, it’s so beautiful. Renee had an appointment at this bridal boutique, and I was just going to help her... but they had this one dress... and I saw it... and I knew it was mine.
“And when it fit... I really knew.”
“So, tell me about it,” I request, trying to take the bag from her.
“No!” she squeals, but releases the dress from her grasp and into my waiting hands. I’m surprised by how heavy it is.
“How many dresses did you buy?” I laugh.
“Just one!” she slaps me on the arm.
“It’s heavy. Is this a fancy formal-wedding kind of dress?”
“I don’t want to tell you!”
“What kind of wedding will it require?”
“Just a romantic one,” she says. “That could be anywhere, really.”
“How will I know what I need to buy?”
“I’ll help you pick out a tux, don’t worry.”
“Such a double standard,” I joke.
“But...” she begins.
“But what?”
“I may be coming over to eat at your place a lot... I probably won’t be able to pay my bills for the next few months,” she laughs.
“That much?”
“I spread it out over both my credit cards,” she explains. “I kind of maxed them both... but I couldn’t not buy it.”
“Well... you know if you sell the loft...” I tease.
“That’s actually what I was thinking,” she says. I can’t contain my smile when I look into her eyes as we step onto the elevator. “So maybe you can help me with that when we get back home.”
“Poppet, it’s okay. I know this is all going to happen. You can take your time moving in... you don’t have to prove anything to me.”
“No, I’m ready. Really.”
“Whatever you want me to do, Emi, I’d be happy to.”
“I’ve never owned any real estate, so I don’t know the first thing about selling that place.”
“Well, I can certainly teach you. I have had a little practice over the years.”
“I would really appreciate that.”
“So, what else did you get today?” I ask, eyeing more bags that are draped over her shoulder.
“Just some clothes since I didn’t pack enough... and a present for you... and some shoes.”
“Wait, a present for me? I thought you said at dinner that it was in New York.”
“Well, one of them is. Your big one is in New York. This is just something silly... you’ll probably hate it.”
“Yeah, probably,” I roll my eyes. “When do I get to see it?”
“When we get back to the room.”
“Are you wearing it now?”
“No, it’s not anything I can wear. And I only got you half of it, really. You bought yourself the other half.”
“Okay, I’m utterly confused now. Thanks.”
“Good.”
As we make our way down the hall to our room, I eye the bag in my hands. “You know, Em, all it would take is one little slip of this tiny zipper here, and I’d see everything,” I taunt her. “It’s definitely long...”
“Please, don’t, Jack, you know it’s bad luck.”
“I don’t believe in that,” I tell her.
“Well, I do. I’ve had enough bad luck, so I’d rather not tempt fate. Humor me,” she says.
“For you... I won’t look... but just know that I can’t wait to see you in it,” I sigh, opening the door for her.
“And I can’t wait to wear it.”
“Is it white?”
“Would you be upset if it wasn’t? Not that it’s not...”
“Well, then everyone will know you’re not a virgin,” I joke with her as I lock the door behind us. “You haven’t always dreamed of a white dress?”
“I have,” she says. “But I always dreamed of the perfect dress, too. And this is the perfect dress.”
“So it’s not white?”
“I didn’t say that,” she says, flustered, as I hang the bag in the closet.
“Okay,” I say. “Emi, just know that you will look beautiful in any color. I’d marry you in anything.”
“It’s fluorescent yellow,” she tells me. “And I want you to get a neon orange tux, will that be okay?”
“As long as I get the top hat and cane, my love, I will be happy.” She laughs as she sets the rest of the bags on the bed. “What did you get for hangover medicine last night?”
“Just some ibuprofen... and some aspirin, too. I forget which one is good for that.”
“Where’s the ibuprofen? My muscles are a little tight from golfing.”
“I set them on the minibar, by the bottled water. Why don’t you take a hot bath while I put all this stuff away, and then I’ll give you a massage before bed. It’ll be a one-handed massage, but I’ll make it good, I promise.”
“You don’t have to do that...”
“I want to,” she insists.
“I’m not going to turn that down,” I smile, opening the water and taking the pills. “Care to join me?”
“I need to hang this stuff up... I’ll meet you in bed.”
“That works,” I smile.
Soaking in the hot water, my body begins to relax but my head is swimming with a million random thoughts... the dress, the massage, the loft, the wedding, children, an art studio... I can barely focus on any one thing. She wants to get married soon, as do I. With the dress, feeling its substance, its heft, I think an elopement is probably out. I wonder what she’s thinking. Anything big will take a long time to plan.
And the loft... I want her to have a nice space to work, so I ponder which room to redo at home. I think major renovations would need to happen. The basement would not do, the lack of windows made it seem closed and dark. The upper two floors would be the only options... possibly make my office into her studio? I could have an office anywhere. Still, there was only one window, and the view of the street wasn’t particularly inspiring. Maybe getting her a studio near the house would be the best solution. I decided to make some calls when we get back. And I’ll need to get in touch with Donna about selling the loft, first and foremost.
Emi is lying in bed watching TV when I get out of the bath. Dressed in my boxers, I climb under the covers with her.
“Here, turn over,” she instructs me.
“No, I’m feeling better, Em. I just want to lie here with you.” I kiss her before wrapping my arm across her stomach, laying my head on her breast, listening to her rhythmic heartbeat. She lays her cast on my side, and starts running her fingers through my hair with her good hand.
“So, tell me, Emi,” I begin, “what do you have in mind for the wedding? Have you thought an
y more about how big, or small... or where?”
“I think I would like our families there,” she says. “After hanging out with your brothers last night, I know it’s important for them to be there. And I really want Chris and Jen there, too. And I think our parents would kill us both if they weren’t there.”
“I think you’re right,” I agree. “Matty is going to be the best man.”
“You asked him?” she asks.
“I did. I mean, it can be in title only. If you don’t want a formal wedding like that–”
“No, Jack, this is our wedding, not mine. From now on, we make decisions together, so you need an opinion, too. So we’re having attendants, that’s good. What do you envision?”
“I don’t know. A small, intimate venue, maybe. Families, definitely... I honestly couldn’t imagine getting married without my sister and brothers there. And a few select friends?”
“I just don’t want to wait long,” Emi says. “Let’s start trying to find a place. Maybe sometime around the beginning of the year?”
“That soon? That’s not a whole lot of time to plan.”
“I can’t wait,” she says.
“Well, I don’t want it to stress you out.”
“Let’s just say as long as everyone’s there, and I have my dress, and you have your suit... and maybe there’s a cake and some rings... then that will be enough.”
“You say that...” I argue.
“No, really. I don’t want a big ordeal. I just want to marry you. Maybe we can do it at your house? In the back yard?”
“That would be easy,” I tell her. “Let’s think about it. If we do it at the beginning of the year, it may be too cold for that.”
“Oh, yeah. I will likely need your sensible thinking for this,” she laughs.
“I can provide that.”
“Thank you,” she says, kissing the top of my head.
“Hey, do you mind if I call Donna and talk to her about the loft when we get back? She mentioned at the christening that she might know a buyer for it.”
“Is she going to buy it? I wouldn’t feel right selling it to her. It was her son’s, after all.”
“But he left it to you,” I remind her. “You own it, and she recognizes that. I think she wants you to do with it what you want. And I didn’t get the impression that she wanted it. Just that she might know someone.”
