Last Christmas, he came out of
the bathroom disguised as Santa Claus. I laughed at first but then realized it
was supposed to be a sexy thing between the two of us. He did a striptease for
me and then began to pull some presents of a big red bag he had brought out of
our bedroom with him. A couple were sex toys, intended for both of use whenever
we wanted to spice things up in the bedroom, not that we ever needed that. But
one of the gifts was something else, something I wasn’t expecting.
It was a little red box with only
a simple ring inside. It had a smooth surface, resembling a little donut made
of silver. When I saw it closer the next day, I smiled thinking he had been a
very smart man by buying the one that I liked and then he would keep the gold one.
Each ring was unique, as according to them we were different and that made us a
better couple, but inside each little piece of jewelry, there was the name of
the other one, the other person forming the relationship.
That way, he would always be
close to me and I would always be close to him. I changed from been excited
and, frankly, very horny, to being on the edge of my seat, crying in silence,
as I had never thought such a gift would come my way. I mean, yes, we had
talked about it before but it had never been serious at all. I had no stable
job, living from one thing to the next and his salary was just enough to
survive for a month. His bank account was always empty by the time he received
his next paycheck.
So marriage or whatever one would call it, wasn’t precisely something we
had been planning on. We didn’t even lived together, not exactly at least. He
would spend a couple of weeks in my place and then I would spend some time in
his place. He always left socks or underwear in my place, in my drawers and on
the washing machine. And my favorite sweater always had a certain tendency to
end up in his closet, although I was certain that had to do with him loving it
as much as I did.
We wore different sizes of
clothing but we sometimes shared, especially in the morning when it was
difficult to find what one had wore the night before. I had answered phone
calls or the door many times wearing only one of his work shirts. He always
told me not to do that because then he would need to either iron them or send
them to the cleaners, and none was a choice he enjoyed. But then he gave me
mixed signals when he had sex on the couch just because he had seen me wearing
nothing but that. It was funny and exciting, two words that described what we
had together.
The reason why I didn’t accept
his proposal right away was the fact that his company was sending him far away,
to a symposium or something like that in a city with beaches and many beautiful
people to watch. He tried to convince me to go and I needed no convincing at
all, the problem was the money, as I had no savings to just take a short
holiday. I had to look for work everyday and there was no option for me to stop
doing that, unless I won the lottery or something as insane as that.
So I asked him to give me some
time to think about it, because he wasn’t going to be there for a while and I
had to be sure I wanted to change our relationship in such a way. I made it
very clear that I didn’t wanted to end the relationship and that my decision
wasn’t motivated by me not loving him anymore or something of the sorts. It was
exactly the opposite: I loved him so much that I really wanted to make the best
choice for us both, as marrying would be a huge thing for the both of us.
He left for his symposium the day
after Christmas. We had been in bed for hours before that, making love but also
kissing, holding each other and enjoying each other’s silence. I loved him
deeply and wanted the best for him, I really did. And I knew he had asked me to
marry him because he was in love with me and he wanted, in a way, to make sure
what we had together was never going to change. It was understandable so that’s
why we tried not to talk about it too much, until I told him one-way or the
other.
Oddly enough, I felt devastated
when the taxi came and he left in it, smiling to me, trying to cheer me up. But
it was right then when I realized my mind had been made up for a while. Who was
I kidding? Yes, money and all that stuff is always a problem but, there are
some things that you just have to do, no matter what and being sure to stay
with the person that you love forever, is one of those things. So I went up the
stairs, running to my apartment, and I wrote him I would be happy to marry him.
He didn’t say a word to me until
two hours later when he made a bunch of people on his plane dance and cheer
because of our engagement. He told me he would have a glass of wine and
celebrate in his hotel room jumping around. Sure enough, he did call me later
that night, while I was getting to go to bed. He was so happy and looked even
more beautiful than always. It was contagious to see him smile so much, asking
all sorts of silly questions and wishing me to dream with angels and with him.
And I did have a dream about him, a really good one.
One week passed and we tried to
write each other everyday but it was very difficult. His office had decided to
stay a while there after the symposium, as their whole goal had been to open an
office in that city. In order to do that, they proposed him a raise in exchange
for more work and a lot of effort put into making the whole new office thing
work. According to his estimates, which he told me half asleep, the whole thing
would take at least a month, maybe even a little more.
He tried to make smile after telling
me the bad news but I just couldn’t. Deciding had seemed easy once I knew hat I
felt but then I realized I actually needed him to be around in order for the
whole thing to work. He had asked me to look at restaurants to reserve in order
for us and our parents to celebrate after getting formally married, but it all
seemed pointless with him so far away. Besides, he always looked too tired or
too distracted to talk about anything related to the wedding. So why bother?
Then, the unthinkable happened. As
his stay on the beach city turned into its third week, I received a phone call
that changed my life. A company had been looking for me because they had an
interest in new talent to come work with them. Apparently, they had gotten a
copy of my resume and that had been enough for them to call me and schedule an
appointment. I was very nervous throughout the whole thing but the people
seemed very nice and comprehensive of everything I told them.
Strangely, the day he decided to
call and tell me his office had asked him to stay there to head the new office,
the people from the interview had called me to offer me a full-time job which
paid more than I would ever imagine someone would pay to a creative person. I
almost didn’t have the courage to tell him, but I did. We had to talk about it;
we had to make a choice. Either he stayed in his old job, something that made
him mad and depressed, or I would stay jobless for longer, maybe forever.
We decided to think about it and
talk another day. Three days passed until we got the chance to talk again. He
had been busy and, frankly, me too. He told me he had decided to accept the job
and I told him my first day was already scheduled.
Nothing was heard in either end
of the call, for a while. His face was grim and so was mine. We did not want to
day what we knew had already happened, because it would mean it was a fact. We
didn’t wanted to accept things had already changed, and that was too late for
us.
