Possibly Until Tomorrow

He tells himself that he'll tell her tomorrow. He tries to look past his reflection in the store window and lose himself in the excitement of the games flashing on the HD screens. Its initial glossy allure fails to distract. His friends' voices fade into the distance. They're heading to the local sports bar. The guilt of yesterday cannot let him enjoy his Sunday afternoon. He's riveted by his image blasting into painful 3D. Blue eyes that are clouded with pain and insecurity stare accusingly back at him. A mouth so full of lies, open and close like a hooked fish. "Tomorrow, I swear it! I'll tell her!" His words are met with reflected self-contempt. Hands angrily bat away the air, stomping feet hurriedly chase after buddies oblivious to his procrastination.


She knows something is off. Not necessarily wrong, just "not quite right." Restlessly she gets up and looks out the hotel's bay window. The boats are bobbing up and down, lights are winking on as the sunsets, and brilliant colors soften into night. It's an hour until dinner. Her cerulean blue dress, his favorite on her, hangs patiently waiting for the appointed time. By the door, pointing the way out, a pair of sexy white heels. She smiles suddenly at her reflection. A well of hope blossoming its way into her heart and mind. He's been so secretive and moody, so up and down about this trip. The promise of, "This will be a trip to remember..." echo in the memories of her mind. This was their five year anniversary. Would he finally? Could he possibly move past it all? The petals fall away and hope gently slips away into hibernation. She feels helplessly in love, but quiet logic thinks, "If not today, then I will no longer waste my tomorrows."

Dinner is silent. He holds the menu like it’s some protective shield. The flame flickers, she can almost hear the air whisper, "Run!” It started normally enough. Then she asked how his guy's day out yesterday was? She knew his team had won. He didn't come home until about 2 p.m. and for a change, he wasn't worshipping the porcelain god. He noisily climbed into bed, bumping her on purpose. When she didn't respond. He stared at her instead. She faked sleep because she didn't want to start a fight. Not on the morning of their anniversary. Her determination to prevent a fight on one of their anniversaries forced her to bite her tongue. But she blew it. Her intuition was in over-drive. The truth must come out, one of them must give. The waiter came, took their order and the menus. He was forced to look at her. The anguish that overwhelmed his features made her want to reach out and tell him that it was okay. Ignoring her gut instinct, she waited for him to break.

"Baby, I'm sorry! I'm such a dumbass..." He looked at her apologetically. "I wanted this anniversary to be special. You've been my dream girl, but I f---ed it up, again!"

Her doe brown eyes blinked back tears. She knew it, he cheated and now he's confessing.

"Baby, I swore I'd tell you the truth tomor...today," he's voice was low with guilt and humiliation.

"God, you're so beautiful. I don't deserve you!"

"Damn straight!" She spitefully hissed. She begins to rise.

"No, wait." He drops to one knee. "Please, you're the love of my life. Please marry me."

Her mouth drops open in surprise. The restaurant freezes, watching.

"Baby, I'm sorry. I've been so stressed out about it. I forgot the ring at home. But please marry me anyway."

Her laughter rings out. Relief and hope spreading throughout her body. "Yes, you moron, I'll marry you!"

The restaurant patrons clap and cheer. He stands and pulls her in. They passionately kiss. She's smiles up at him. He whispers, "I swear, I got the ring and you'll have it when we fly home...as soon as we walk through that door." She kisses him into silence, wiggles her hips into his, "Don't worry, we'll find ways to make the time pass quickly." Congratulations and catcalls follow them out. Dinner forgotten...possibly until tomorrow.