Riding the Waves (the end of the beginning)
Year One.
The one adjective Jack would have never used for himself, she used for him constantly that first year. Romantic. And he loved it. He enjoyed showing her the depth of his devotion to her. It made him giddy; another word he would have never used for himself. He heard the envious whispers of the secretarial pool, how they wish their husbands were more like him. He was amazed by his reaction; he relished at being married. He had a standing account at the local florist and was in the habit of sending flowers to the department just because. The cards always contained a line or two from Shakespeare's sonnets, unsigned of course.
A cozy one-bedroom apartment was soon upgraded to a little bungalow on the edges of town. She made curtains and framed photographs. Together they planted a rose garden in the back yard. He always would acquaint the smell of roses on a summer day with her and happy times. Strolling the neighborhood, hand in hand, buying lemonade from every stand in sight. Falling asleep together in the hammock under the trees on a Sunday afternoon.
Her hair mesmerized him; it had a life of its own. And he could watch her mouth form words for hours on end. How he got breathless when she emerged, still damp and warm, from a bath. He was amazed that the slightest touch of her fingertips could arouse him and the he ached for her when she was not around. He began to memorize her range of smiles. Her laughter made him dizzy and elicited the most delightful daydreams. Her sadness brought forth a powerful protective side; one that he never knew existed. He grew wary of the soft voice, which belied anger and frustration.
She would throw dinner parties for the staff of the English Department. He would have a few select work colleagues over for barbeque. They settled into married easily, without many of the usual ups and downs. Life was wonderful and he was in love.
Their first Christmas, sipping champagne as they exchanged gifts. He bought her a book of French poetry and read it to her. She bought him a pair of sterling and onyx cufflinks, which she presented to him by wearing one of his crisp white office shirts and nothing else. They made love all day long in front of the fireplace, to the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree. How, at dark, they realized that they hadn't eaten all day and desperately search the pantry for something to eat. Scrambled eggs and tinned peaches was their first Christmas dinner.
Years Two and Three
He was surprised when the headiness of the first year did not wane. The next few years brought more memories, most happy. A few sad. Her grandmother died of a broken heart; she had been separated from her Cyril for too long. He consoled her in her grief and he grieved with her. He briefly wrestled with the thought of losing her one day and he was overwhelmed with sadness. He prayed that he would die first because he knew he couldn't live without her.
The garden flourished and the house became more of a home. They went on dates to the drive-in movie, acting worse than the teenagers in the surrounding cars. They explored the museums and antique shops within a two-hour drive. Many summer afternoons were wasted away in the hammock. Drinking and smoking and hanging with friends, the typical married couple.
For their first anniversary he took her to Niagara Falls. They spent it just as they spent their honeymoon, and never even saw the Falls except on the drive home.
He started taking her on trips, to New York, Florida, the beaches up and down the eastern coast. A rented boat was the source of numerous jokes and revealed her paralyzing fear of deep water. She wouldn't even walk down the dock to where the sailboat was tied.
He would sneak out of the office and sit through her lectures at the college. Her lectures on the Russian authors were enthralling; she seemed to understand the pain and self-sacrifice that was common to most of the stories. Anna Karenina. Dr. Zhivago. War and Peace. It was if she had the same psyche, the same temperament just through the inheritance of her genes.
There were times that she worried him, made him uneasy. They were fleeting, momentary but present nonetheless. It was if she were outside of herself; watching her body do unspeakable things. He could sense guilt and sadness; none of which she ever explained. She would stare off into the abyss for minutes, a single tear in the corner of her eye. Then her face would change, the storm rolled in and it became hard and unrelenting. Then she would soften, as if baptized by the rain, and come back to the wife he adored. He once asked and she walked away. He would never do that again.
Then the winds of change blew in, hard and driving like a hurricane. Arvin. Weasel, snake, wolf, predator, scavenger. Now his supervisor, directing his studies. First it was innocent; develop tests used to identify likely candidates for the CIA. Look at coordination, spatial acuity, mental dexterity, decision-making skills. Puzzles and scenarios and questionnaires. He enjoyed this, believed he was playing a significant part in the protection of the country he held dear. Then things began to twist in an amoral direction. Protests, loud and quiet. Forceful and subtle. Psychological warfare. Training of young minds; he would not use children like that. Push and pull and convince. It will help us; we have to stay ahead of the Russians; protect America. Relenting because there was no other way to survive. And then it became more horrendous.
He came home to a door sitting open. Scared, he ran through the house and found her sitting on the ground in the middle of the rose garden crying. Fear, helplessness, worry ran through his mind. Was she hurt, could he fix it? At that moment, he would have done ANYTHING to make her stop hurting. He sat down beside her and she crashed into his arms, sobbing. Then she said the words and he was stunned. Then he felt a warmth envelop him, as he never had before her and before this. He cried.
They sat there in the rose garden, one celebrating, and one fearing. A baby. They were to be parents.
And his whole life changed again.