"Those Five Little Words"
Author: Kathmak
It was a leisurely Saturday afternoon. I was sitting on the couch, legs outstretched, contentedly watching the Indians beat the Orioles into submission on my new big screen t.v. when Monica came up and stood behind me.
"Hey, baby," I said absently, as I tipped a bottle of Heineken toward my eager lips.
She placed a gentle hand on my shoulder and murmured the five little words that every guy dreads hearing.
"Honey, we need to talk."
Oh, crap. I froze mid-sip, nearly choking on my beer. Whenever I hear those words, a pit starts to form in the center of my gut. It reminded me too much of my days married to Barb. She would start a sentence with "we hafta talk," and before you know it we were arguing about some crazy thing. She had an annoying talent for turning even the simplest discussion into a big melodramatic scene.
The last time Barb told me that we "needed to talk", it was pretty clear that we had reached the end of the road. By then we were fightin' all the time and our marriage had dissolved into a bitter volley of recriminations. It wasn't working for either one of us, but I just didn't have the energy to do anything about it. Luke's death had sapped me of my strength, and for a while, my will to live.
So when Barb began this particular discussion by accusing me of being in love with another woman, I did what any self-respecting man in denial would do: I packed a bag and took a room at the Holiday Inn. I refused to allow her the satisfaction of admitting that she was right.
Here's the thing: I was in love with another woman, and that woman was Monica Reyes.
Yep, the very same. I couldn't bring myself to open my heart to her back then, even though I knew she felt the same way about me.
It wasn't until last year when we met up again, that I got my shit together and made a move. Thank God I did, because now, I can't imagine life without her.
But I digress.
Oh yeah, so Monica wanted to talk to me. I took a deep breath, bracing myself for some bad news to come out of her mouth.
"John?"
"What's up, Mon?"
She walked around to the front of the couch and carefully placed a stack of girly bridal-type magazines squarely in my lap.
"I know this is not exactly your thing, John, but you have to decide on a tux for the wedding. C'mon, I'll help you."
So that's what all this was about. Relief swept over me and I laughed out loud.
"What's so funny?" Monica asked with a suspicious smirk.
I leaned in and kissed her. "Nothin' honey. Nothin' at all."
As we flipped through the pages, a silly grin spread across my face. It occurred to me that someday soon we'd be looking at different magazines, maybe getting ideas for decoratin' a nursery.
But that was a discussion for a different day.
End