Another Year

The seat-belt light is finally turned off but her husband's eyes are still closed. She is feeling insecure wondering if sometimes he wishes his former fiancee was there next to him. Instead of her. She doesn't like the silence, thinking that if she allows him to be quiet in his thoughts they would inevitably stray to his former lover. So she talks, making comments about other passengers and wondering aloud what Hawaii would be like and did he rememeber to lock the kitchen door before they left.

He smiles and reassures her everything is fine. He asks her what she thought the children are doing right now, his eyes softening at the mere mention of their names. She snaps a curt reply, saying they're probably asleep.

Often she would wonder if the only reason he was still with her was because of the children. That he stuck around because he felt obligated to be a good father, loving it so much that it overpowers his love for the first woman he evr kissed. She would sometimes feel jealous of her own daughter and son, they way they received tight hugs and light kisses in their beds every morning and night. She suspects he only spends all that time with the family because of them. Not her.

They met through a mutual friend. A colleague at her old job pointed him out to her. He was sitting alone in a restaurant, reading a car magazine, a cup of coffee on the table in front of him, a pack of cigarettes but no lighter or matches. Her friend told her about the fiancee story, saying that he was visibly miserable for several weeks. Immediately she was drawn to him, wishing it was her he pined for, was miserable for. She wanted to be the one who made him forget, erase the memory of this other woman. And he would be grateful. And he would love her. She hinted for an introduction.

Eventually, he did feel grateful for her presence. She was the kind of girl who couldn't seem to do anything without his help. A drive to the store, a door too heavy, a drink to be ordered. It made him feel useful. Wanted again. So he latched on to her and stayed. He was more than happy to forget, save for a few seconds in the morning when he woke up and turned to his wife, wondering why she looked different than the wife in his slumbers.

They arrive in Hawaii. They walk on the beach. They sit by the pool. She thinks they should do everything a couple on a honeymoon should do. She wants candlelit dinners, sunset walks, breakfast in bed. He's just glad to follow whatever she wants and not have to make any decisions. In between all that, they are at a loss. They visit the places the hotel suggested, taking photographs and buying postcards. They sit on their hotel balcony in silence. He falls asleep and she counts the day till they would go home.