Wednesday, July 18, 2007
I didn’t really want to, but I guess I had to know. And it wasn’t easy to ask, so for courage, I opened a bottle of wine and poured a glass. Then another. Then I offered one to Monsieur, and then I poured myself another.
I was nervous. Of course, he knew it.
“Is something wrong?” he asked.
I shook my head. “Just – there’s been something on my mind,” I said.
“Tell me,” he said gently.
“Well, I don’t know if you remember, but, well, I wasn’t supposed to bring up us getting married until after the first of December. Of last year,” I added.
“Well.” I took a deep breath, and just said it like I practiced it in the mirror. “I want to be married to you. I’m not going to ask you; I want you to ask me, when you’re ready. Don’t decide right now. Think about it carefully, but I really do want to spend the rest of my life as your wife, looking after you, raising your boys, and being a family.”
He toyed with the stem of his wine glass. “The reason I haven’t brought it up,” he said, slowly, “has most to do with the debt.”
“The bills?” I asked. “You’re worried about bills?”
“Not just that,” he said. “I don’t think we’d have the ability to do a ring and a wedding, and I know you deserve both.”
“How much debt is there?” I asked.
He told me.
“Well, okay so there’s a lot. But we’re handling it now, right?” I asked.
“Yes, we’re doing well, making payments and handling it. But to add to that a wedding, a ring, a honeymoon...”
“Which I never said I wanted,” I replied.
“You don’t want a ring?” he asked.
“Not a big one. Not even a diamond. I’d be perfectly happy with two gold bands. One for me, and one for you. I don’t need a big wedding, and I don’t need a diamond. Maybe a nice dress, one that I could wear out anywhere. Not a bridal dress. Just something nice. That’s all. I’d feel ridiculous if you spent $5000 on it. Do I look like I need a big chunk of Africa on my finger?”
“It always seemed to me that you would want more than that,” he said.
“Of course not. Am I really that high maintenance?” I asked.
He looked at me.
“Okay, I am,” I admitted. “But not in that way.
He was quiet, in an uncomfortable sort of way, and said, “Let me figure out a way. There are more things that we have to agree on, as well.”
“What? It’s because I snore, isn’t it??” I asked.
“Don’t be absurd,” he said, smiling. “Let me figure out a way, and I will let you know.”
“I will need sex tonight, Monsieur,” I added.
“I understand,” he said.