 The dinner is going well and everything is prepared for the proposal. She looks...beautiful. Or I suppose that would be the term others would use. It doesn’t matter, after the wedding, I won’t have to pretend to share her anymore. Thinking about our future together always incites a churning, simmering feeling in me, love apparently. I lose myself in the look of her; the dress she’s wearing isn’t quite right. I would have dressed her differently for such an important occasion. Her expression draws me out of my thoughts. Had she been speaking?
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” I ask, as she shifts under my gaze, a smile on her lips. “I said, what’s the occasion?” She repeats with a soft laugh. Why is she laughing? “Paul? Did I lose you again?” “No, of course not. I’m listening,” recalling a line I’ve heard others say, I decide to give it a try, “You just look so beautiful tonight; it’s distracting.” It makes no sense to me, but if it works for others then it will work for me. She shifts again while looking down. Isn’t she supposed to laugh or act embarrassed? Her response to the line is not...adequate. Perhaps my delivery was lacking? “You’ve been acting awfully strange lately. What are you up to now?” She asks, once again drawing me out of my thoughts. She seems impatient...maybe. I decide to move forward with my plan to propose. The sooner I can claim her the better. “Heidi,” I say as I stand and move to her side, kneeling down as I’ve seen others do in this situation. I see no merit in it, but it seems to be required. I pull the velvet box from my breast pocket and open it. “Will you marry me?” I ask, showing her the ring. I remind myself to smile and make eye contact as that tends to be important for people. “What?” Her voice is breathless and she looks stunned...maybe - no matter. This is the part where I put on the ring. As I take her hand and carefully slide the ring on her finger, all I can think about is our future together. Always being able to see her, watch her, and not have to hide it from others. They don’t understand that she belongs to me. No one else. I feel her whole body turn rigid a second before she jumps up and moves away. “I...I can’t. I can’t marry you,” she stumbles over the words as she pulls off the ring. “I’m sorry,” she whispers as she sets the ring down on the table and flees the restaurant. The rolling heat inside me ceases all movement when her figure disappears from my sight. It freezes into a lump of burning ice inside me as my mind processes what she said. My body moves of its own accord; nothing outside me is even penetrating the chill I feel wrapping around me. When my awareness returns I am parked in front of my house. I climb out of the car as my mind, once again, reviews the evening's events. I must have surprised her, I realize stopping halfway up the walk. Looking at the house I’m renting, I can’t stop the disgusted sneer. Heidi would call it “a quaint home.” It was small and the construction was...less than adequate. Unfortunately, I can’t afford better right now. Maybe that has something to do with Heidi’s response. I take a moment before opening the door, preparing my expression for a talk about tonight’s dinner, that...how should I word it? I can’t say she belongs to me. True as it may be, people seem sensitive to such phrasing. That we belong together? That will suffice. As soon as I turn on the light I know she isn’t there. I can’t say how I know but the note pinned to the message board confirms my suspicion. “Paul, I need time and space. I’m Sorry. Heidi.” Next Part 1 - Heidi
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