Because You're the Love of My Life

by Sarah Kleck

  “Really?” Holden thought the story was funny as I did. When the waiter returned to take our order, we were laughing so much that we hadn’t looked at the menu yet. Holden insisted that I order an appetizer, entrée, and dessert, which, needless to say, cost a small fortune. Once more, I suspected he was up to something.

  The meal and the conversation were so good that my questions faded away, and I finally began to get into the evening. When our wonderful dinner drew to its conclusion two hours later, I was completely relaxed.

  “Do you want to go home yet?” Holden asked when we left the restaurant. “Or would you like to go for a little walk?”

  It was around eight, and on this May evening, the sun was just about to sink below the horizon. The sky was tinged pink and orange.

  “I’d love to take a walk,” I said, and we started off toward Fan Pier Park to stroll along the harbor. Although we weren’t the only ones enjoying this spring evening, we didn’t mind the other people around us. Probably because it was either a jogger who quickly passed by us or another couple who wanted to be alone as much as we did. Or maybe it was the great dinner, maybe the picture-perfect sunset, maybe that I wasn’t missing anything in my life. Maybe it was having Holden by my side. Holden, whom I loved with all my heart and who, I hoped, loved me as much. I don’t know what it was at that moment, but I was happy—pure and simple. I had arrived in a life I’d created myself. A life that was perfect for me.

  When the sun almost touched the water, Holden pressed my hand.

  “I’m a little disappointed,” he suddenly said.

  “Disappointed? But why?”

  He laughed, and his cheeks blushed slightly. “There is a reason for tonight,” he finally said.

  “Oh?” The speculation carousel in my head spun wildly.

  He looked at me earnestly. “You really haven’t guessed, have you?”

  I strained to remember. His birthday? No. I’d never forget that. Our anniversary? No, but that was coming soon. What was it?

  “Today is the fourth anniversary of the time we first talked,” he finally jogged my memory.

  I looked at him astonished. “When did we first talk?”

  “In CVS Pharmacy on Cambridge Street,” he announced with a grin.

  “What? You still remember that? Not to mention what day that was?”

  He frowned. “You don’t?”

  “Is that supposed to be a joke? If anything, I’ve tried to forget that day,” I answered, feigning outrage.

  He tilted his head back and laughed. “But why?”

  I wouldn’t dignify his question with anything more than a raised eyebrow.

  “No, I’m serious.” He smiled and then his voice grew tender. “That was the day fate brought us together.”

  He usually only said such things in jest, sometimes to make fun of the New Agers who were our neighbors, so I wasn’t sure if he was serious or not.

  “Fate?” I answered mockingly. “Not my constipation and your broken leg?”

  “All part of the big plan,” he said with aplomb.

  I crossed my arms over my chest and looked at him suspiciously. “Are you trying to make fun of me?”

  “No,” he said decidedly and reached into the right pocket of his jacket. My face flushed.

  “What’s going on?” I asked nervously. “Are you proposing?” Excuse me?! Was I stupid? Why did I ask that? If he’d planned to propose, he would have reconsidered by now. I’d ruined everything. But I wanted him to ask.

  Holden couldn’t be rattled. “A proposal?” he repeated. He was completely cool. “If I were to propose, I surely wouldn’t do it this way.”

  I felt a sting in my chest. Why not? It almost burst out of me. The moment is perfect.

  “If I were to propose,” he continued, his eyes starting to glow, “then I’d kneel in front of you.” Gradually, as if in slow motion, he sunk down before me on his right knee. I was speechless.

  “And I’d have a ring.” He pulled his hand out of his pocket, produced a velvet-covered box, lifted it up to me, and flipped it open. A breathtakingly beautiful, platinum ring with a single, perfect square-cut diamond was revealed.

  I clasped my hands over my mouth, and hot tears streamed down my face.

  “And I would say, Annie, you are the love of my life, and I don’t want to spend a single day without you until I die. Please be my wife.”

  I pressed my hands even more firmly over my mouth to suffocate the urge to sob.

  “Anna-Marie Blazon, will you marry me?” He took the ring from the box and looked at me in anticipation.

  “Yes,” I sobbed, “yes, of course,” and I threw myself around his neck.

  Holden, who was still kneeling on one leg, couldn’t keep his balance, and we both tumbled to the ground.

  “Oh, Annie,” he whispered into my ear, “I love you so much.”

  When he slowly pulled me up, not letting me out of his eyes for a moment, I noticed his eyes were moist, too. Whether he was overcome by the moment like I had been or had banged his head on the pavement, I couldn’t tell for sure.

  I wanted to kiss him wildly, but he kept me at a distance with gentle pressure. “Wait,” he said smiling broadly, “the ring.”

  “Oh, I almost forgot,” I mumbled, realizing how completely distracted I was.

  Holden lifted my chin and looked into my eyes. Then he took my left hand and put on the ring.

  I spread my fingers, extended my arm, and looked at the diamond. It seemed to capture all the colors of the sunset.

  “It is perfect.”

  Chapter 15

  “Relax, darling.” Holden took my hand. We’d been sitting at the gate for almost an hour waiting to board. Our flight was scheduled to depart soon. It was about time.

  Time . . . that was the operative word. Five years and nine months, to be exact. That’s how long it had been since I’d seen anyone from my family. Which I was sad about, except when thinking about my mother. It wasn’t as if we quarreled or didn’t speak to each other. No. We simply left each other alone. I flew home for Christmas my freshman year because that’s what you’re supposed to do. What a disaster! At least for me. She wouldn’t stop nagging me. Implied I thought myself better than everyone else because I was studying at Harvard. Every moment of those two weeks she made me feel as if she really didn’t want to have me around. So, I didn’t go back. Which I felt bad about because of Dad, my grandma, and Aunt Jane—but to be honest, they could have gotten on a plane and visited me. But Dad had no time, Grandma was afraid of flying, and something always got in Jane’s way. They didn’t even come to Boston when I graduated. Which basically meant I wasn’t important enough. Whatever. At some point I stopped asking, and we got by with phone calls. I even talked on the phone with my mother sometimes—for birthdays, or when Grandma was in the hospital. Mostly, though, our conversations since I’d arrived in Boston were all small talk. Telling my mother that I was getting married would be a surprise. She’d known for a while that I was with someone, but she’d neither asked about him nor seemed particularly interested anytime I mentioned him. But now, in October, five months after Holden proposed, I couldn’t keep the secret any longer.

  “Good morning, ladies and gentlemen,” the announcement started, “your American Airlines flight to Seattle is now ready for boarding. Please have your boarding passes ready.” My pulse quickened.

  I took a deep breath before getting up to join the line. Holden put his arm around my shoulder and kissed my hair. “Relax,” he repeated. “It’ll work out.”

  To be honest, I didn’t know why I was so tense. My mother no longer played a role in my life—at least not an active one. She had no direct influence on me, my life, or my decisions. I’d have married Holden even if she declared him the spawn of Satan. I was merely informing her of my decision—in person, as was proper, and not over the telephone. That was all. Yet, I was as nervous as I had once been sitting before a university admissions interviewer with the power to d
ecide my fate. Or, at least, seriously affect it. I was still six hours by plane away from my mother. If I was this tense now, how would I feel when I finally stood in front of her? At first, I didn’t want to admit the thought but . . . but perhaps it was important to me to have my mother bless my decision. Perhaps, for once in my life, she would be proud of me. How crazy was that? After so many years and everything that had happened, all the hurt and rejection, I still yearned for her recognition. Her love.

  “Actually, you should be the tense one, and I should be trying to calm you,” I said to Holden when we stood in baggage claim in Seattle. “After all, you’re about to meet your parents-in-law.”

  My hands trembled when I tried to lift my suitcase from the conveyor belt.

  “Let me do that,” he said calmly, taking the suitcase from me. Then he pulled me close, looked into my eyes, and placed his hand on my cheek.

  “You know we don’t have to do this.” He smiled. “Just say the word and we’ll be on the next flight back to Boston.”

  What a tempting thought!

  Though in my mind I screamed Yes, yes, let’s just take off, I shook my head. “No. We’re going through with it. Dad is probably already waiting outside to pick us up.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes—now stop asking before I change my mind.”

  Holden smiled crookedly. “OK.”

  I saw Dad as soon as we headed to our meeting point. His hair was thinner and slightly gray at the temples, but he still had that winning smile. I rushed straight over and flung my arms around him.

  “Hello, Little One,” He greeted me lovingly and kissed my cheek.

  “Hello, Dad.”

  I detached from him with moist eyes and turned to Holden, who was patiently waiting.

  “Dad, this is Holden, my . . .” I swallowed. I almost let my fiancé slip out.

  Simultaneously smiling and sizing up Holden, Dad extended his hand.

  “Holden,” he repeated as if greeting an old business partner, “delighted to meet you in person.”

  I was startled. “In person?”

  “She doesn’t know?” Dad asked, laughing when he saw the confused expression in my face.

  “I called your dad and asked him for your hand,” Holden explained. “I got his number from your phone,” he confessed.

  Wow! I was bowled over. And deeply touched.

  Suddenly, I felt so relieved. “Well, now that the cat is out of the bag.” During the entire flight, I had tried to figure out how I’d tell my parents. All the better if they already knew.

  “We’re getting married,” I said, extending my left hand on which the diamond sparkled.

  “Does Mom know?” I asked as Dad admired the ring.

  “Yes, I told her.”

  “And?”

  “She’s delighted,” he said.

  I shrugged. That was more than I could hope for. Plus, now I didn’t have to deal with her unfiltered reaction. She had had plenty of time to adjust.

  “So, you permitted a total stranger, whom you only talked to on the telephone, to marry your daughter?” I asked jokingly as we walked to the parking lot.

  The one-hour drive from the airport to Lakewood was over too soon for my taste. Once I was standing in front of my mother, I was even more nervous than I feared.

  “Hi, Mom.”

  “Annie,” she greeted me exuberantly and pulled me into her arms.

  I stiffened reflexively. A kind of compulsive defensive posture. Then my body seemed to vaguely remember something, and I consented to the hug.

  “This is Holden. My . . .” It was like jumping a hurdle to make the word cross my lips, “my fiancé.”

  “Delighted to meet you, Holden.”

  I could only look on in astonishment when she hugged him. Which self-discovery seminar had she attended this time? Make Peace Between Yourself and the World?

  “Delighted to meet you, Mrs. Blazon.”

  “Call me Ruby. And come in. I prepared Annie’s room and put on fresh bedding. You can take your things up if you’d like. Dinner is in an hour.”

  “OK,” I answered a little disconcerted and went up to my old room with Holden.

  Strange, how out of place you can feel where you had grown up. As if your former home had become a sort of museum in which one must not touch anything unless explicitly permitted. I left all my things in the suitcase and put nothing in the closet. I didn’t even put my toothbrush in the bathroom. I left everything in my toiletry kit and took the whole thing to the bathroom when I went to freshen up.

  “Your parents seem really nice,” Holden started cautiously.

  He knew how my mother and I were with each other, what my childhood was like, and how we had parted last I saw her. I almost felt betrayed by his comment. As if he suddenly didn’t believe what I had said about her. Or, at least, as if I had exaggerated.

  “Hmm,” was all I said, letting it slide. What he had seen and heard from my parents so far, especially my mother, really had made a good impression. But we hadn’t gotten beyond a friendly greeting.

  The table was set when we went downstairs. I couldn’t believe my eyes, lasagna—my favorite. She’d even made a salad with the little croutons on top that I liked so much as a child. I had to admit she’d made an effort.

  When I saw a car drive up, I forgot for a moment how alienated I felt and rushed to the door.

  “Grandma! Jane!” I greeted them exuberantly, squeezing them in turn.

  “You’re all grown up,” Grandma said, wistfully patting my cheek.

  “She’s a Harvard grad after all, Mom,” Aunt Jane said. Her voice clearly told how proud she was of me. “And soon to be married,” she added as her look wandered over my shoulder to Holden. Pure radiance spread across her face.

  Did everyone here know Holden had proposed? I would have liked to tell Grandma and Aunt Jane myself.

  “Not bad,” my aunt said after giving Holden the once-over.

  “So, you're the young man who wants to marry my granddaughter?” Grandma always had been very direct.

  “Yes, I am,” Holden replied, holding out his hand.

  I almost had to laugh as she stood next to him—at least a foot shorter, supported by Aunt Jane, and with a suspicious look in her eyes.

  My mother trilled “Supper is ready,” effectively ending my grandmother’s examination. Holden seemed to be relieved.

  “Well, tell,” Aunt Jane said after we were sitting at the table. “How did you get to know each other?”

  After a quick glance at Holden, I decided to tell the whole brutal truth. Starting with my constipation and ending with Holden making me blush with embarrassment with his Hi on Facebook Messenger.

  Grace was right—the story of our first meeting was a howler. Aunt Jane shook with laughter, and the others were thoroughly amused. The ice was broken, and the meal and the rest of the evening took place in a humorous atmosphere and peaceful harmony.

  Exhausted by the long day and jet lag, Holden and I fell into bed shortly after midnight. I was almost asleep when he placed his head next to mine on the pillow. While he looked at me, he gently brushed the hair out of my face.

  “Why do you think it’s like that?” he gently asked. “I mean, between your mother and you.” I could tell from his question that he’d been wondering all night about that.

  I turned on my back, stared at the ceiling, and took a deep breath. I’d pondered this question more than once in my life.

  In the end, I’d arrived at the following conclusion, which I shared with Holden: “I think the way we come into this world is characteristic of the way we lead our lives.”

  Holden leaned on his elbow and looked at me. “What do you mean?”

  I tried for a moment to think of how I could best explain this abstract thought, which had manifested after many years of riddling.

  “My mother almost bled to death at my birth.” I swallowed hard. “For some reason she didn’t go into labor, so the doctors dec
ided on a cesarean. Something went wrong. To this day I have no idea what. She needed emergency surgery when they had barely pulled me out. She was taken away. So, when I was only a few minutes old, I was separated from my mother and placed into a bassinette.”

  I could tell from Holden’s look that he was trying to understand.

  “My mother has always seemed to be moving away from me, leaving me,” I tried to put it into words. “The more I try to be close to her, the farther away she seems. I don’t stand a chance.”

  “Good morning, sleepyhead.”

  I forced my eyes open. “You’re already awake? What time is it?” I croaked.

  “Almost nine. I couldn’t sleep, so I helped your dad in the garage.”

  “What?”

  “He had a problem with the fuel injection on his Corvette, but we figured it out,” he announced proudly.

  “That’s great,” I answered with a yawn, then pulled the cover over my head. Nothing new there. Dad had always spent late nights working at his shop, and on Saturday morning he rose at the crack of dawn to fiddle with his own cars. Often, he hadn’t been approachable for days until he finally had solved the problem. It probably was a blessing to have a mechanical engineer in the house with whom he could share his musings. Holden, naturally, was eager to help his future father-in-law.

  “Now get up.” He good-naturedly pulled the cover off.

  “No,” I protested.

  “Come on. Your mom’s making breakfast. Maybe you can help her.”

  I gave him a steely look.

  “I thought you two could talk a little. Maybe it’ll do you both good.”

  I reluctantly sat up and combed my fingers through my messy hair. “If I have to,” I said. “But let me shower first.”

  “Good morning.” My mother stood in the kitchen beating some eggs in a bowl.

  “Good morning,” I said. Whenever she was nice to me, my voice immediately took on a skeptical undertone. Experience had taught me that her being nice was usually the proverbial calm before the storm.

  I quietly cleared my throat. “May I help?”

  “Yes. You can set the table.”