December 21, 2005

That dull christmas party was certainly a night to remember. Adrian and I had been dating for two and a half years, and this was my third time at his family's Christmas. I could never remember which house was theirs, this neighborhood was full of cookie-cutter McMansions for the rich and tasteless. Adrian slowed in front of one, decorated only with lights along the front porch. This was it, this was the place. I stepped out of the car, careful not to lose my footing on the slick winter driveway. We were the first to arrive; Adrian's mother greeted us and asked to take my coat. I declined, knowing I would have to keep track of it all night, but I couldn't trust the extended family with a £3,000 All Saints sheepskin coat. Not that one would steal it, no, they could afford things like this on their upper middle class income bracket. But their tastelessness, their tactlessness. God be damned if I'm going to let my nice coat be stained or wrinkled from carelessness. I tucked it over my arm as I came inside the house.

"You're just in time for the food," his mother said, gesturing towards his father placing various items onto stacked trays. I offered to help, an offer warmly received.

"See Linda?" his father said. "I told you, many hands make light work. We could've finished this hours ago."

Linda scoffed. "Gerard, I told you, setting up the food will make me spoil my diet."

Gerard let out a chuckle. "Yeah, like you absorb calories through your skin or something."

I ignored the banter, quickly finishing the arrangements and correcting Gerard's mistakes. Would you believe, a man in his fifties doesn't know that the cheese tray and veggie tray are separate. I finished arranging and carried the trays into the foyer, placing them tastefully around the table, working with the tablecloth, candles and tiny figurines to give an aesthetically pleasing result. Maybe Linda would be complimented on her sudden acquisition of taste, I thought. I'll let her pass this one off as her own.

I didn't dislike Adrian's family, in fact I was rather fond of them. I rarely voice my criticisms, I simply judge internally. It's how I am with everyone, everything. If I voiced every complaint of mine, I'd make more enemies than I could count. I judge because I know we can do better. I stay silent because honey attracts more flies than vinegar.

Adrian and I met at work three-ish years after V and I parted ways. He was a CRNA, and I was in residency in my last two semesters of pharmacy school. Although my heart was broken, I knew it was time to move on, and I accepted his offer of a date after a few days of talking in the break room. Soon after, he became my official boyfriend, and it's all been a smooth ride from there. We're very different, but we acknowledge and respect our differences instead of complaining to each other about every little thing we don't like, and I think that's been the trick. That, and how much we admire each other. I admire his work ethic, compassion for others, and seemingly endless supply of empathy. He admires my resilience and adaptiveness, and says I'm the strongest person he's ever met.

He doesn't know the whole story, and never will. I was lucky enough to convince police I was a witness and victim of V's crimes, instead of a semi-willing accomplice. I've never lied to Adrian about this, I simply left out the whole "willing" part. In his mind, I was the victim of kidnapping and false imprisonment and was brainwashed into doing V's bidding. So severely brainwashed, that I had convinced myself it was my own free will and choice. Maybe I was brainwashed, who knows, but police believed it, and all charges against me were dropped. This story of Stockholm syndrome got me a legal name change, a relocation to another part of the country, and tuition-free schooling. I chose pharmacy school because it offered everything I wanted in a career. Time alone, high income, an MD to put at the end of my name, and of course, caring for the sick without having to get too involved. I could never be a nurse, I don't know how Adrian manages. All that direct patient contact, all that empathy, all that attachment to patients who don't make it. It makes it easier for a patient to be just another name and number.

One by one, carfuls of cousins, in-laws, great-aunts and such made their way in, carrying boxes and baskets to place under the tree for the children. At some point, the place had gone from tranquil to hectic.

"Emily," what's-her-name, Adrian's niece, asked, "Would like some casserole?"

"Oh no thank you," I said, dismissively. "I've already had three platefuls."

I turn around, another voice. "Emily, great to have you back this year."

"Emily, it's been so long, I've missed you,"

"Emily..."

"Emily, why don't you..."

"...Emily,"

All of the voices blended into one as I trudged my way through the foyer, until one caught my ear.

"Emily..." Adrian whispered, "Come with me. I want to tell you something."

"Alright," I said, smiling. He opened a door, displaying a long hallway. Adrian and I walked, and he opened the second to last door on our right.

The sounds of the small family Christmas party muffled as Adrian and I slipped behind the door, into the dark room. He reached his hand behind him, to shut and lock the door. Finally, a moment alone. He flicked on a light, and we lounged upon the sofa. He took my face in his hands and kissed me.

A second later, his hands still on my cheeks, I said, "Mh, merry Christmas, love."

He smiled. "And many more to come."

"Yes," I said, "I hope so too."

He took a deep breath, gathering himself into an awkward position, with one hand in his back pocket. "You don't need to hope so anymore, Emily..." he said, his voice shaking. "I want you in my life forever, you and me against the world. I know you're the right girl, and I think it's the right time." He took another deep breath, before taking a little red box out of his pocket, and dropped to one knee.

"Emily Russell, will you marry me?"

My mind went blank for a second, not recognizing my own name. When the reality of it all hit, I smiled.

"Yes! Yes yes absolutely!"

He grinned, slipping the gorgeous ring onto my left hand. The band was white gold, with two branches reaching across to hold the two white gemstones in place.

"Sapphire," he said, "I know how much you hate diamonds."

I giggled. I knew his family would give him grief over not spending two months' salary on an artificially scarce rock of carbon. This, a white sapphire, could pass as a diamond to nosy traditionalists. Clever, clever boy.

We stood up, him picking me up by my waist and twirling me around before setting me down with a soft kiss.

"Emily Russell Prentiss," he said.

"It sounds perfect," I replied.