Epilogue

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Epilogue

And so began our married life: two becoming one, vowing my life to selflessly love Travis more than I loved myself.

How naïve I was to believe this was to be a pleasant, relatively easy road to traipse upon.  For as June 10 commenced and we bid our friends and family adieu, I began my new life.  One that has been a myriad of possibly more downs than ups; one that has taken more gumption and self-will to persevere through than any other area in my life; one that has left me speculating at who I was, who I am, and what my purpose is in life.

Between our disappointing wedding night to our nightmare of a honeymoon; moving two times within our first two months of marriage; being very alone during our first year while Travis worked an insane job (military pilot training); finding out disappointing news in our next military assignment; two more moves in our second year; our surprise pregnancy; having a special needs child; three deployments in our third year and even more temporary trips throughout the weeks, it’s been quite the ride, to say the least. 

Real life set in fast, and within weeks of our wedding day we had found ourselves on more than one occasion in tears, asking, “How are we married???”  Long-distance dating proved to be forgiving, in the sense that we never saw one another for longer than 3-day stints, and used a phone for communicating.  Our compatibility was not our highest forte, and our communication techniques were in some dire need of help.  I found myself quickly hating who I was becoming: namely, a bitter, angry, lackluster, holed-up woman who had gone from one degree of what she thought life entailed to the polar opposite.  It took a good year and a half for us to come to terms with where God had us, surrendering what we wanted for what He wanted.  But that’s a different story for a different time…

Nevertheless, with each and every upheaval that life brought our way, we inexplicably loved one another.  Travis, true to his nature, was constantly patient and tender with me.  I, whilst discovering our conflicting and differing interests and life-goals, desired him and knew deep down that I couldn’t live without him.  Sometimes, it was so uncanny, our love for one another – a love that ran deep, that only could be provided by God alone – that I would marvel at how we were brought together and remained together.  While mentioning this to my mother over the phone during that first year of marriage, she remarked, “You know, Jen, I can’t help but think that our God put you two together to glorify Himself.  He saw you, Jenny, and thought, ‘Whom shall I pair her with so I can get the most glory?’  And he picked Travis.  While an amazing man, you two are opposites in nearly every way.  And so He caused you to fall in love and to blindly declare your lives bound to one another.  Here He is, faithful to His name and His promises, bringing you through every trial and suffering.  He is making you into a better person, and hopefully more like Himself, all the while glorifying Himself in this strange and mysterious union between Travis and Jenny.”

And while that may not be entirely God’s plan or what He had/has intended for us, as my mother was just speculating, I find great hope and truth in her statement.  Isn’t that just like my God, to create possible out of impossible?  To bring beauty from ashes?  To create love when there was nothing? 

Marriage is an uphill battle – one that must be fought for every day.  I’ve heard there are marriages out in the great, wide yonder that are easy.  That need no work.  That survive on compatibility and natural love.  That kind of marriage, my friends, I have yet to experience.  I say this not because I am a pessimist, or because marriage has opened my eyes to “the real world”, or because life with Travis is awful.  Because it simply is not.  We all know, after reading our story, that he is my better half.  That men like him are rare and hard to find.  That with him, my life is incredibly blessed.  However, loving someone more than you love yourself is nigh to impossible.  Sacrificing your wants for the good of your spouse can be tortuous.  Combining two contradicting personalities and fascinations to create a family does not come naturally.  Marriage must be preciously and lovingly tended, like a garden, each and every day to protect from weeds of discord and the drought of easy communication. 

War is tiresome and tricky.  Gardening can be grueling and demanding.  But in the end, when the battle is won and our gardens are lush and full of great, mighty oaks with glorious blooms bursting in every which way, soft green moss padding our bare, weathered feet, we will know it was a battle worth fighting for; an Eden worth every ounce of attention and act of nurturing we bestowed.

Part XV

Part XV

The Finale

(Epilogue to follow) 

My feet were stuck to the sandy shoreline as I continued to try and fit all the various jig-saw pieces of this scenario together.

But he’s only here for another day…

He must be joking…

Who would joke about a thing like this??

But, we haven’t even really talked about this…

He’s getting all wet from the waves!

But…. Is he seriously serious???

“Jen!  Get over here!” he demanded eventually.  His face, smiling all the while, was a white as a sheet, and I could see his hands trembling.  Those small indications proved the momentum of the moment and caused my feet to finally pick themselves up and move, one after the other, until I reached his side.  Reaching for my hand with his free one, he pulled me onto his raised knee and laid his head on my bosom.  I could feel him begin calm with merely touching me.  I loved how he ached to be near me.  Taking a deep breath, he pulled away and looked me square in the eyes. 

He began with how deeply he loved me.  He relayed his feelings had always been this strong, since the very first time he noticed me in Colorado.  He loved me as he watched the whole Sasha joke play out.  He loved me over dinner that night.  His heart broke when I left for Minnesota.  And I broke his heart two more times when I denied him after his two, longing letters.  He claimed from the first moment he saw me in church that Sunday, he wanted me for his wife.  He spelled out, meticulously and sincerely, all the beautiful ways he loved me and wanted me for his wife.  And my heart was full.  So very, very full.

And in the midst of watching this man, whom had barged into my life – unannounced and unplanned for – reveal the depths of his love and his soul to me, I remember thinking how young I felt in that very moment.  All of a sudden, I felt as though I was back at thirteen years of age.  And here we were, two kids playing, dabbling with love as though it were finger paint.  Were we really and truly old enough to be doing this: getting married, making promises, starting a family, vowing the rest of our lives to one another?  I looked at this man, this wonderfully amazing man, completely sure of everything: marriage, this situation, me, his love.  And I was sure.  Even though I couldn’t shake the uncanny feeling of being thirteen, I knew I loved him.  I knew that I couldn’t, and wouldn’t, live life without him.

As his monologue slowly faded, he opened the blue box and quickly flashed me the gorgeous ring before slipping it out of its case.  Grabbing my right hand, he shakily began to slide the ring onto my finger.

“Not so fast, Buddy Boy!”  I exclaimed as I jumped off his lap with a reproachful look.

“What?” he was confused and looked it.

“First off, the ring goes on my left hand.  And second of all, you haven’t even asked me yet if I want to marry you!”

He giggled nervously and combed his fingers through his hair in the familiar way that I loved.  I was right – in all his love talk, he had never truly popped “The Question.”

“Jenny Elizabeth Jeffrey?” he asked, taking my left hand in his.  His blue-grey eyes were smiling now without a shadow-of-a-doubt.  “Will you marry me?”

“Yes!  Yes!  Yes!”

*

We lingered there at the beach.  I wanted to savor the aloneness and revel in the thought that we knew something no one else knew.  We lounged, gazing at my perfect ring, sharing thoughts and feelings of how wonderful, yet slightly scary-serious it was to be Engaged.  Questions of how we would tell family and friends, when we’d want to get married, etc. were on our radar, but we wanted to marinate for moments longer in the oneness of our newly-defined relationship.  Looming on the not-so-distant horizon was his impending departure.  We had much to accomplish in this short period of time.

And so began the next 24-hours.  Sharing with family and friends our news.  Picking a date.  Planning what the next six months would look like for us, apart & together.  Where would we live after the wedding?  What was his military schedule/expectations?  By the end of the second day together, I had cried at least 23 times, he had gotten frustrated at me 15 times, and we had piled in more kisses than a 48-hour period knew possible.  We felt like straggly tumbleweeds, blown here and there with all the planning and phone calls, by the time I saw him off at the airport.  But, we were engaged, promised to one another for life.  And I felt deliriously happy.

*

Five and a half months.  That’s how long we had until we would be man and wife.  Five and a half months until I graduated, as well.  We managed to see each other twice in that time, each visiting each other in their respective place in the country.  And while Travis was busy with work and Air Force responsibilities, my mother and I planned a wedding – long distance.  We would be getting married in our home town before moving to Washington state for a month, then moving to Mississippi in July.  A crazy whirlwind of a life awaited me.  But for now, it was all I could do to focus on finishing school, treasuring these last months with my best friends, and plan the wedding far from home and family. 

Travis couldn’t make it to my graduation because he didn’t have enough leave saved up for our wedding, honeymoon and graduation, so something had to give.  After graduation, my family packed me up in an abundance of over-taped boxes and flew me home to California.  Two weeks before Travis was to meet me to say, “I do,” the Air Force kindly sent him on a western trip to Japan, Thailand, Guam, and Hawaii.  Unable to talk but once on that 10-day stint, he landed on American soil days before flying down to the central coast of California.  We were distant, stressed and discombobulated with all the time-zone changes and lack of communication.  Nothing could more adequately welcome me to the “tossed salad” life of a military wife. 

Late at night, the Thursday before our wedding, Travis landed in L.A. and drove our rental car all the way up the coast to meet me at my parents’ home, kiss me hello and goodnight, and rest up for our wedding.  We hadn’t seen each other in over two months, had barely talked for the past two weeks, and I was incredibly sleep deprived.  I prayed to God multiple times throughout each day to give me a sense of peace, security, and sureness in following through with this plan to marry my one, true Love.  I wondered if every bride felt this insecure, this distant, this scared.  Yet, in spite of all there was going against us, each day was filled with an unspeakable and incomprehensible amount of inner tranquility and utter stillness that God was bringing us together, even though it seemed the odds were against us.

*

Friday was a hustle and bustle of activity, picking friends and family up from the airport, trying to squeeze in every last minute with those we loved so dearly.  I was surprised when, shortly after lunch, Travis slipped silently through my front door and drew me to the side.

“What are you doing here?” I asked pleasantly taken aback to see him.  We hadn’t thought we’d see each other today, for lack of time.

“I need just a couple minutes with you.  Wanna go for a drive?”  His voice was warm, his eyes enticing, and I was overwhelmingly filled with a sense of missing him.  Time was the one thing I wanted most with this man, and there was just never enough of it.  Our honeymoon couldn’t come soon enough.

“Yes, but it’ll have to be quick.  I have to pick up Lisa from the airport in 45 minutes.”

And with that, he whisked me outside.  In two minutes, we were outside the city limits and cruising through the countryside vineyards.  Our fingers sliced through the fresh air, as we draped our arms out the windows lazily.  His right hand on my leg, my left arm caressing the back of his neck, we allowed the silence to reign over us, while each of our hearts took a deep, purifying breath. 

“I get to marry you tomorrow,” he stated with a grin, as he glanced over to me.  My eyes were shut, the sun beating down on my legs felt warm and delicious.  Smiling, but not opening my eyes, I mm-hmm-ed. 

The rest of the drive was blissfully quiet.  He knew I needed this break from the insanity to just be – be alone, be quiet, be with him.  Dropping me off at my parent’s door twenty minutes later, we both looked at each other.  Leaning in for a sweet kiss, he sighed deeply.  “I can’t wait til you’re all mine,” he murmured.  I could tell he wanted to kiss me more.  But the fact that we were parked in front of my parents’ house, with 7 cars in the driveway and people come and going, carrying large gifts and random dresses and slacks prevented him from getting carried away. 

“Just hold your horses, boy.  I’ll be all yours tomorrow.”  And I would.  To be Travis’ wife sounded about just the perfect thing.

He backed away into his seat.  “Is there anything I can do for you these last 24-hours or so?  I’ll see you tonight for the rehearsal, but anything I can pick up for you?  A cherry coke?”  He teased.  I loved cherry coke.

Opening the door to get out, I blew him a kiss.  “Naw, I’m fine.  Thanks for the drive.  I needed it.  See you tonight, Lovey.”  And I shut the door.

*

I awoke the next morning to my mother shaking me gently.  I had slept restlessly, just like every other night that week.  I was never one to be much fun when I lacked my sleep, but adrenaline had been pushing me for weeks now.  Thankfully, Our Day was finally here and I could bank on a good night’s sleep in the near future.  As for now, today was June 10.  Today was my wedding day and I needed no coaxing to feel the pure excitement and joy that filled me naturally.  Today, I would wed my Love in holy matrimony.  Today, I would become Travis’ wife.

What began as a quiet morning with hugs from my mother and father and a special breakfast downstairs before everyone else arose, quickly erupted into a mad house: people moving in and out of showers every five minutes, dresses and suits being ironed, nail polish fumes and hair spray aromas filling our nostrils.  My sisters, mom, and I relished the “once-in-a-lifetime” pleasure of getting our hair professionally done in a salon all to ourselves.  Jack Johnson’s “It’s Better When We’re Together” was playing appropriately in the background.  Looking around, I loved what I saw: my mother – faithful and loving mom, who’s heart was so bound to mine we could virtually read each other’s minds.  She had encouraged me, pushed me, and seen me through my whole life and was now partaking in the joy of giving me away.  Kate – my sister to whom I had cried, queried relational questions to all through this dating life of mine, and shared my darkest secrets.  She, who loved all things beautiful, was delighting the beauty-making of this morning, her sparkling blue eyes holding so much joy.  Betsy – my little sister who had been there from the very beginning of Travis and me.  She who joined me in Minnesota for college, and whom had truly been the best friend only a sister could be, for sister’s know no limit to love, know faithfulness extends beyond hurt and logistics, know true friendship.  I watched her as she tried to explain her desired hairstyle to the stylist, not piping up when it wasn’t exactly what she wanted – for she hated confrontation.  Kate quickly advocated for her, building visions of loveliness with her hands.  Those little moments of merely watching my family work and orchestrate all the details of my day stuck with me forever.  I was nothing without my family.  My heart was full of immense love and pride of what I was apart of – this family, though I was becoming part of another today, would always be my heritage. 

*

Bustling to the church, pictures, organizing, finding the flower girl, hiding from the groom and groomsmen.  My stomach was full of knots as I awaited my turn to walk down the aisle.  The church would be packed.  Both growing up in the same, small town and same church, it was nearly impossible to not invite everyone.  And I mean, ev.ery.one.  I couldn’t stop the smile that was plastered across my face, pure joy was pouring out of each fingertip and toe. 

Finally, it was time.  The 600+ guests were seated, our grandparents and parents being seated by my handsome brothers.  My bridesmaids and I were crammed into the mini-cry room at the back of the sanctuary.  While trying to calm my nerves, I shuffled anxiously from foot to foot, shaking my feet in between hops.  My sisters crowded at the small one-way window, craning to spy So-n-so.  When all of a sudden, Kate whispered loudly, “Jenny!  There’s Trav!”

I pushed my way to sneak a peek and yes, there he was.  My oh my, how just seeing him in his mess dress sent my heart racing.  His face was radiant and altogether dashing.  I couldn’t believe he was to be MINE.  That HE was the man I was to walk down the aisle to in just a couple moments.  Tears formed and my lips stretched even bigger than I thought possible in a wide smile.  “God,” I breathed.  “I don’t deserve this man… thank You.  Thank You.”

All at once, the time had come.  My sisters and Lisa left me one by one, then my sweet niece, Suzannah, begrudging walked down the aisle.  My dad came for me, holding out his arm, and I took it proudly.  Such mixed emotions in this traditional display of moving from Daddy’s girl to Travis’ wife.  Although I had become an independent woman throughout college and no longer truly needed my father, I loved him and wanted him.  My dad was security, unconditional love, strength, shelter, providence: all I had known.  Yet, he was handing me off – of my own accord and desire – to Travis, whom I loved, but had not yet experienced life with.  Handing me off to the unknown, a love that had yet to be grown and persevered through, weaknesses I was sure to discover, multiple moves in the military.  The time-honored walk-down-the-aisle was imprinting on my heart the sobering significance these vows I was about to take were to have in my life.

Nevertheless, as we turned the corner and the saber-bearers lifted high their weapons to welcome me down the aisle, I looked straight into his face.  I saw the beauty that he beheld in me and I perceived the wonder that had brought us to this point.  His eyes kept me tied to him and he drew me hither with his love.  The future was so unknown and our heritage together had yet to be fashioned, yet this I knew with full certainty:

                “His mouth is most sweet,

                and he is altogether desirable.

                This is my beloved, and this is my friend.”

                                ~ Song of Solomon 5:16

(Epilogue to come....)

Part XIV

Part XIV

Move south with him???  Seriously?  I was unprepared for the shocking wave of emotions that rolled through my body as he relayed his true feelings to me.  Yes, I had just been looking for him to give me some sort of direction or insight in to where his feelings lay, but I wasn’t prepared for him to have in mind me leaving all I knew - my friends, my family, my summers at home – to follow him in his Air Force training.

Laying my head on his chest as his arms engulfed me, we were both conscious that I hadn’t spoken a word.  

Truth was, I didn’t know quite how I felt and it scared me.  His heartbeat was steady and sure, which mirrored his emotions towards me.  He was always so steadfast when it came to us – never fearing, never wavering, never second-guessing.  I, on the otherhand, mirrored the waves beneath us – ebbing and flowing, crashing and pummeling – never sure when I’d be far or near. 

“Trav?”  I broke the silence first.  My head was still on his chest, straining to hear his heart, for comfort of its sureness.

“Hmmm?”  The sound was deep in his chest and I felt it’s vibration beneath my cheek.

“I don’t really know what to say, but I feel like I need to talk.”

Silence ensued as he patiently waited for me.  “Ummm…” I began awkwardly, “move down there with you?  Like just find an apartment and be there while you’re in pilot training?”

“Ya, I guess that’s what I was thinking,” he ventured on.

“With no friends?  So far from family… what would I do while you’re at work all day?  Or studying?  It’s just such a big step… I don’t know.  Seems a little odd.”

“I haven’t really thought so far as to what you’d do, per se, I just want you down there with me.  I hate this long distance,” Travis mused.

I sighed.  So did I.  “So do I,” I admitted in a softer tone.  “But Trav, do you really think it could work?  I mean, look at us.  We can hardly keep our hands off each other now.  Given another year of dating and then living in a place with no accountability…” I trailed off, hoping he was catching my drift.  We both desired to keep the marriage bed sacred, meaning no sex until the wedding night.  Our immense attraction and young hormone levels already surged with each and every day spent together.  I knew it was next to impossible to even consider such a move without compromising some area of our relationship. 

Heaving a deep breath, he pushed me gently from his chest and looked down at me.  “You’re right, Jen.  I guess I hadn’t thought that far.  I probably spoke too soon.  You’re right.”  He ran his fingers through his sandy-colored hair.  “We’ll figure it out.”  Draping his arm across my shoulders, he led me away from the pier and back to our car.  We had mere hours left together before we went our separate ways once again and we both wanted to spend them together, happy.  Not fretting about what the future might hold.

*

As fall continued, we were faced with another two and a half months of separation before we could see one another again at Christmastime.  I busied myself with school, friends, jobs so to make the time pass more quickly.  And while I anxiously counted down every morning and evening the days left until I could be in his arms again, I also sensed that I should capture and savor every moment left here – in my tiny apartment, mashed together with three of the best friends a girl could ask for, a carefree lifestyle, and the tiny, beautiful moments of Minnesota that one only notices once it’s gone.  Continually impressed upon my heart was the fact that life was soon to change – the comfort and security of my life, as I knew it, was soon to be altered.  For good, of that I was sure.  But still, I found myself tearing up at odd moments, trying to hold captive a precious moment or two – knowing that these present times were soon to be distant memories that only could be relived through dreaming.

Finishing up my finals, I found the earliest possible flight home.  I was restless to be with my family again.  I loved going to school in Minnesota, but I hated that it entailed me only seeing family twice a year.  Those visits were just too few.  Plus, the earlier I got home, the earlier I was to see Travis.  He was due to arrive in our home town just days after me, and he was able to get two weeks of leave off of work – priceless!  I was thrilled to have any time with him longer than three days at a time.

Arriving home, I was engulfed in that same familiarity that I longed for and loved.  Warmth, acceptance, home.  It was what made Christmas Christmas.  For those few days I had to spend completely with my family before Travis arrived, I found myself pondering how the Lord had changed my life in the mere span of a year’s time.  Last year at this time, I had just dumped Boyfriend #2 and was happily settled in at home for a relaxing Christmas break, completely unaware that Travis would soon flounce right into my life.  I had to laugh.  Life was so unpredictable, no matter how much of a planner one is – life has a way of rearranging itself to fit the mold of something completely different and zany.  That night, I would trade laughter for tears at how volatile life would be.

I got the phone call late into the evening before Travis was to arrive.  “Hey babe!”  I chirped cheerily.

Silence.  Then a stifled sob.

“Travis!  What is it?”

“My grandpa just died.”  His words hit me like a brick wall.

“What?”  I whispered.

“He just died.  He was shoveling snow… *sobs* … then he just fell over.  He had a heart attack.  Grandma tried to do CPR on him, but… *sobs* … he wouldn’t revive.  Oh Jen…” and he dissolved into tears.  I had never felt so helpless.  I had never experienced this Travis before, weeping and so broken.  All I wanted was to be with him, holding him, telling him it would be alright.  But it wouldn’t.  I knew.  This Grandpa of his was his hero.  Tommy and Travis could talk endlessly of this man, and rightly so, as he had the most winsome personality, a droll sense of humor, the brains of a genius, and a smile that could melt a heart of stone.  I had the privilege of meeting him the previous summer at Tommy and Olivia’s wedding.  Upon meeting me for the first time, he pulled me quickly and tightly into his large 6’3” frame and smacked a big kiss on my cheek.  

Giving Travis the high eyebrows, he mouthed over my head, “She’s a keeper.”  Needless to say, I liked him right away.

And now he was gone.  Forever.  I was lost in my own thoughts and limited memories of this man, as Travis recalled some precious times, when I suddenly realized Travis was not going to be coming home this Christmas.  Questioning him on this, he pronounced my assumptions correct.  He probably would not be able to make both the trips out to Pittsburgh (where his grandparents abided) and to the central coast of California.  Or if he did, it would be a short, two-day visit to see me.  Feeling completely selfish and guilty, I began to cry myself as I realized this wasn’t going to be the Christmas vacation that I imagined it.  Life was simply not fair, in any situations.  I felt sorrowful for Trav’s grandmother, for his mother, for his family, for him.  But deep inside my secret places, I felt immensely sorrowful for me and my cheated time with this man I so dreadfully wanted to be with.

*

Christmas break crept slowly by, as I felt the time that I had imagined to be with my man slowly slip away.  I felt the familiar feelings of doubt creep in, as to how our relationship could possibly continue without face to face interaction.  I needed to see him, be with him, and know his presence.  Who knows how long this could continue – our separation?  Although my love was sure, I felt my resolved beginning to weaken, and once again was faced with the question of was this what I truly wanted??  I tossed back and forth restlessly.  Did I want the numerous occasions of separations that were sure to follow us in this relationship?  No.  Did I want the insecurity of knowing when we’d be with each other again?  No.  Did I want the instability of the military lifestyle: asking for leave, last minute deployments, etc?  No.  But did I want him, Travis, the man who made my world spin?  Yes.  Inexplicably and undeniably, YES.  My mind and soul were at war with how to reconcile my wants and desires with reality.

Again, one evening, I was surprised by a phone call.  It was Travis.  He was at the airport in Pittsburgh – on his way to see me.  We would only have 48 hours together, but he figured it was better than nothing.  I figured the same, but my heart also felt cautious after all that I had been mulling over.  I didn’t want to alarm Travis with another conversation with me freaking out about “us” and where we were going.  But I also completely desired to be in no doubt about us – positively convinced.  Heading to the bathroom to freshen up, I prayed that God would guide these next 48 hours together. 

One hot shower, a quick nap, one fresh spritz of perfume, and five hours later, I met Travis at our local airport.  He looked doggedly tired, but happy to see me.  He smiled and reached for me, and I felt supremely lucky to be the girl wrapped in the handsome man’s arms.  He kissed me lightly on the forehead, then looked at me sensitively, as if he knew my mind and heart had been pummeling themselves raw the past week.  “Hi.”  He stated the greeting as a fact, as his thumb brushed the back of my hand tenderly.

“Hey.  How are ya feeling?”  I sensed his sorrow over his grandfather’s passing still lingered in the recesses of his mind and I ached for him.  I, too, knew the grief of losing a beloved grandpa.

“I’m okay.  Pretty beat.  But I don’t want to waste any moments with you,” he smiled resolutely.  “You busy right now?  Can I take you out?”

“Busy?”  I laughed softly.  Poking him in the chest, I stated, “You are my plans for the next 48-hours.  Please take me out.”

Walking out to the parking lot, he took a deep breath of the fresh cental coast air.  The sun would be setting within the next couple hours, so the air was still warm, but with a hint of nippiness in it.  Gazing around at the green mountains, the crystal blue sky, and the familiar landmarks, he sighed, “I love being home.”  I totally knew what he meant.

*

He hopped into the driver’s seat after hauling his luggage into the trunk.  Heading north, I settled back into my chair as I enjoyed gazing at his profile.  We didn’t talk much on the drive.  I didn’t have much to say, simply wanting to be with him and gauge my upcoming feelings on being with him rather than what I had been considering the past week.  I could tell he just wanted silence as well, as he let his hand show his affection for me by twirling strands of my hair while glancing at me intermittedly throughout the drive.   

As the ocean soon came into view, I saw that he was taking us to the same beach where we had our first talk about “us.”  I smiled inwardly, noting the sentimentality.  He loved the ocean and thrived on being romantic.  What might make other girls swoon always tended to make me laugh.  I don’t know why I began to giggle, but soon I was laughing out loud.  He looked at me, confused.

“I don’t know why I’m laughing.  I just think it’s funny you’re taking me to this beach, trying to be all romantic and all…”  I giggled some more.

Looking at me as if I were nuts, he rolled his eyes and denied it.  “I’m not trying to be ‘romantic and all.’  I just like this beach.  I wanted to go here.  Is that so bad???”  His voice egged me on.

“No, no,” I piped in a teasing, know-all voice.  “It’s fine.”  And I quickly unbuckled myself as he pulled into a parking spot next to the dunes.  The beach was empty.  Perfect for running around and goofing off.  All of a sudden, I felt as though I were as light as a feather and as happy as a lark.  I had 48-hours with the man I loved and I wanted nothing more than to run, be free, and have fun with him.  “C’mon!  Let’s go!”  And with that, I was out of the car and half way down the dunes. 

He quickly followed me, confused at where this burst of energy had come from.  When he reached me at the bottom, I had my flip-flops in hand and was ready to play chase or go for a quick sprint by the water’s edge.  

“Don’tcha want to take off your sandals?” I encouraged him.

“Ya.  I guess.”  He still seemed confused and not quite up to my energy level, which was beginning to annoy me.  “Hey, let me take our shoes back to the car, so they won’t get stolen.”

Back to the car?  Stolen?  We had just run down a huge sand dune and the beach was barren.  “Naw,” I objected.  “Let’s just hide them here, under these bushes.”  And I reached to grab his sandals from him.

Holding on tightly, he resisted.  “No, Jen!  I’m putting them in the car.  I don’t want them to be stolen.  Give me yours too.”  His face was serious, no-playing-allowed deal.

Staring at him, dumbfounded, I held my stance.  Lifting my nose stubbornly, I stated emphatically, “No!  Don’t go up to the car.  You’re being weird.  Just put them here.”  And I motioned to the bushes.

Quick as lightning, he swiped my sandals from my unprepared hands and began laboring up the shifting dune.  

“Travis!  Why are you acting like that?!”  I was really bothered now.  Why did he have to go and ruin a perfectly happy mood?  Without a backward glance, he kept climbing.  “Fine,” I shouted.  “If you’re going to leave me, then you’ll have to find me.”  And with that, I was off running.

Finding a dune to hide behind, I waited for him to return and search for me.  What was his deal? I wondered.   He seems so serious, as if he doesn’t want to be happy-go-lucky with me.  Am I really annoying him?  My thoughts were scattered as I contemplated what to do next when he found me.  Eventually I saw him wandering on the beach, all alone, looking for me.  Calling his name, he spied me and ambled over.  When he got within distance, I asked, “Are our shoes all locked up, safe and sound?”  He smiled a bit, wagging his finger at me.  Then, his face resumed it’s serious façade again and he reached for me.  I evaded his arms, dancing sprightly around him, my smile growing bigger by the second.  I don’t know what was up with me, but I had the energy of 100 lightbulbs zinging inside of me.

He stopped and stared at me, not sure whether to join me or remain in his mysterious ways.  “What’s up with you?” he finally asked, a smile in his voice.  His hand reached out to grasp mine and pull me close.  Shaking my head, I danced away again.

“Nah-uh,” I said.  “I don’t want to be all romantic and stuff right now.  I just want to have fun.  Can’t you just have fun with me?  Chase me!”  And I was off, running down the beach.  Seconds later, I was thrilled to hear his footsteps pounding behind me.  Gleefully shrieking, I ran hither and yon, trying to dodge his grasp.  But he was faster than I, and eventually caught me.  Clasping me tightly in his arms, he was out of breath as he mimicked me, “’I don’t want to be all romantic and stuff…’”  Kissing me soundly, he murmured, “You’re crazy.”

“I know.”  I smiled.  Then, slipping out of his hold, I walked on ahead of him, gazing at the splendor of the sea.  Seashells and Sand Dollars were strewn across the sand, creating a stunning  mosaic.  I bent, picking up a perfect shell.  Turning to share it with Travis, we admired it together before I left it in his palm in search for another beauty.  Bending and examining the multitude of rocks and sea treasures was always a favorite pastime.  I loved to study each unique design, created by God and fashioned by the ways of the ocean.  Finding a perfectly whole Sand Dollar, I exclaimed, “Trav!  Look at this one!” 

Continuing to stare in awe at it’s perfection, I waited for Travis to tromp up behind me.  He didn’t.  “Trav!”  I yelled once again.  “Look at what I found!”  Silence.

Turning round with an air of impatience, nothing could have prepared me for what I saw.  Two yards back, Travis was planted, one knee on the ground, one knee up.  Holding a blue box in his hand, he was staring at me with a smile plastered on his comely face.  Dropping my perfect Sand Dollar, my jaw dropped to the ground as I continued to gape at this man. 

“What are you doing??” I questioned in earnest honesty.  I watched as the waves swept up underneath him, not caring if they soaked his pants or not.  “You’re getting all wet!”

Part XIII

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Part XIII

Saying goodbye was more difficult than I imagined.  In such a short amount of time, this man had captured my heart and senses, weaseled his way into my deep affection and caused me to love him truly.  To even imagine being apart for a whole semester sent me reeling.  Ever the emotional woman, I cried, I clung, I pretended I was independent, and then I cried some more.  He was such a light in my life, I hated to see us part – knowing full well what I’d be missing.

Yet, like it or not, we both headed our separate ways, with plans to see each other in October.  Two and a half months away, but it was a goal, nonetheless.  Plus, we were now able to talk on the phone whenever we pleased.  Travis convinced me to get a cell phone by promising he’d take care of every last detail: payments, minutes, etc.  I was happy to oblige him, and even more content to be “taken care of.” 

August and September whizzed on by.  I was busy, busy, busy with school, work, and friends.  I missed Travis terribly, but I was still able to enjoy the freedom of the single life.  My roommates were my best friends and we spent most every evening, weekend, and spare moment together.  Life as a college student was certainly not glamorous, but as everyone claims, they were the best days of our lives.

As the end of September drew nigh, and October peeked her brisk self through the doorway, my anticipation of seeing Travis once again left me sleepless many nights.  I was to meet him in Florida, where he would be spending a couple of days recuperating after a 6-week training course in the South.  Tommy and Olivia were stationed in Florida and we would both reside with them, near the ocean, for those couple of days.  It was too good to be true: a holiday at the seaside, with great friends, and my Lovey.  I couldn’t wait.  The day finally came for me to leave, and my head was full of expectations of how we would great one another, would we kiss right away?, should I powder my nose before I met him at baggage claim??  All I wanted was to be in those strong, familiar arms, kiss those sweet lips, and talk face to face.  The plane couldn’t land soon enough. 

Stepping off the jet, I rushed to the bathroom to freshen up.  I tousled my hair, spritzed on some of my signature smell, applied more blush (but just enough to appear rosy and sweet), gave my reflection a quick smile, and practically ran to baggage claim.  Being the teeny airport that it was, I immediately noticed that he wasn’t here yet.  I felt a sting of disappointment, but hurriedly brushed it aside, as I was sure I’d see my man walking through those revolving doors at any moment.  Texting him of my arrival, I waited expectantly by the window.  Night was falling and the humidity was oppressing.  I decided I’d stay inside where the cool air conditioned room felt nice. 

Minutes ticked by with no response or sight of Travis.  My mind was racing back and forth between concern and bafflement.  He couldn’t have forgotten – we had just talked this morning!  Surely, he’s late for good reason.  I hope he’s okay… Where is he???  As time marched on and I eventually was left alone, sitting pathetically by my luggage, my feelings of disappointment evolved into frustration and then to anger.  Hot tears of irritation slipped unwillingly down my powdered cheeks as the time now announced Travis as two hours late.  Picking up my cell phone, about to call Lisa and ask her what I should do, Travis blew through the door.  His face wore an expression of stress, mixed with concern as he saw my tears.  He was dressed to the hilt, in a button up and slacks.  The top buttons of his shirt were now undone, and sweat lined his collar line.  “Jen…” he reached for me and I could tell he was searching for the right words.  But I was annoyed, past annoyed.  Who leaves their girlfriend waiting two hours in a random airport? 

“Hey,” I greeted him nonchalantly, evading his open arms.  “Can you grab my bag?  It’s heavy.”  And I brushed past him, out into the sticky, night air. 

Travis followed, downtrodden.  I knew I was being stubborn, that he probably had a good excuse to his tardiness, but my mind was still in a huff, not prepared for my shattered expectations of how this reunion would be.  I was obstinate, and still had a long way to go in learning flexibility and forgiveness.  We both got into his Jeep, silent as the night around us.  I could see that I was hurting him with my distant manner, yet I didn’t know how to right it.  To say our hour-long drive to Tommy and Olivia’s apartment was awkward would be an understatement.  The atmosphere in the car was as heavy and oppressive as the humid air outside.  Both of us knew not what to say after just minutes of being together in the same state, the same vicinity, the same car.  Silent tears rolled down my cheeks as I stared out the window into the black night.  My heart felt so heavy.  Maybe I shouldn’t have come, I thought to myself.  What are we doing?  We don’t even know how to get along in person… dating long-distance is a joke.  I brushed my tears away discretely, hoping he wouldn’t notice the movement out of the corner of his eye.  He did.  Tentatively reaching his hand over, he found my fingers and touched me lightly.  “Jen?”

The feeling of his skin sent tingles up my arm, sending my heart racing.  Man, I had forgotten how good it felt to be touched by him.  Two and a half long months of no physical contact seemed so very long now.  All of a sudden, I missed his arms around me, his smell embedded into me, his hand clasped tightly around mine.  

Turning to him, the tears poured forth readily.  “I’m sorry.  I’m such a jerk.  I don’t know why I took it so hard.  I just so wanted you to be there when I got off the plane.  I didn’t understand why you had to be late.  I just … I just… missed you and wanted you there.  It just wasn’t how I expected it.  I’m sorry…” and I wiped my sleeved arm across my running nose.

By now, his grip was no longer tentative, but sure and reassuring.  He glanced between me and the road before us, while explaining he had gotten lost, as he’s prone to do, and then got lost even more.  His cell phone ran out of batteries, preventing him from giving me a heads up.  He was mortified and deeply apologetic.  Breathing a deep sigh, we settled back into our seats.  We kept the silence, but this time, our fingers were heavenly entwined.  Why I had to be so emotional and psychopathic was beyond me.  I felt exhausted already from the tizzy I had sent myself in and the weekend had just begun. 

*

Our weekend fluttered by in a matter of minutes – or so it seemed.  Our two days were filled with swimming, meals out, running the beach, card games, reading, and lots of glorious time outside.  I always believed summer makes everything more charming, and this weekend was no exception.  Our skin turned copper, my cheeks were a constant blooming rose.  Flip flops and b-b-q’s left me believing life really was this easy, this simple.  This was where I was truly supposed to be: by my man, doing life, always warm, and supremely happy.  Not thousands of miles apart, in school, bundling up in the Minnesota falls (preparing for winter hibernation, nonetheless).  I didn’t want these days to end.

He took me out for a nice dinner our last evening.  It was a hole-in-the-wall joint where we dined on seafood.  The sun was beginning to set as we finished, yet all I wanted to do was sit across from him at our booth and stare at his rugged face.  I loved that face, and the thought of leaving it tomorrow morning nearly killed me.  

“C’mon,” he said.  “Let’s go walk the town.”

And so we did.  We walked and walked, then walked some more.  The light eventually grew dim, but having Travis by my side was my warmth and security.  Talking about everything, it was so natural to be together.  He lead me to a dock, on the edge of the Atlantic.  Waves slowly pumped the shore in rhythm as we leant over the railing and stared into the deep waters.  A comfortable silence ensued as we both had one reigning question dominate our minds: where we going and how were we ever going to survive this painful, long-distance separation?  During the past two and a half months apart I had grown accustomed to not seeing him, not feeling the loss of him in my everyday life.  I didn’t want that to happen again.  I wanted him.  But where was he?  We had never broached the subject of the future of “us” for as long as we’ve been dating. 

As if reading my mind, Travis suddenly said my name, “Jen?”

“Yes?” I turned to him breathlessly.  He looked as if he wanted to ask me something serious.  I was on the tips of my toes.

After a couple of moments of silence, he burst out with “What will become of us, Rave?” in a dramatic sort of voice.  Ugh, I thought.  We had watched “Pearl Harbor” the other night and that line cracked him up.  It was the romantic night before Rave and his buddy went off to war, and the beautiful nurse leaned back in Rave’s arms and sighed, “What will become of us, Rave?”  Trav had been saying it on and off ever since the movie.  It was driving me nuts, especially now when my mind was truly preoccupied with what was going to become of us.  Rolling my eyes, I turned back away from him and sighed heavily into the night. 

“What?” he questioned.  “Sorry, I’ll stop saying that.  Jen, what is it?”

“Nothing, I just thought you really had something serious you were going to say to me,” I admitted honestly.

“Oh.”  He was quiet.  Had I scared him?  I silently hoped not.  Maybe he just wasn’t ready for this conversation.  “Well, I do have something I wanted to ask you…” his voice drifted off.

Immediately my eyes were riveted on him.  Yesssss…..?? I encouraged him inwardly.

Turning away from me, this time, he placed both well-developed forearms on the wooden rail.  I watched as the muscles flexed with his concentration.  Those arms could forever capture my attention.  “Well, I’ve been thinking about you.  And me.  A lot.  I love being with you, Jenny.  And I love you.  And I hate being away from you.”  He twisted to peer at me.  My interest was fully on him.  “And, well,” he continued, “this next summer I’m heading into pilot training.  In July.  I’m still waiting to hear where I’ll be stationed, but I’m assuming it’ll be in the south.  It’s a year-long program and very intense.  Many guys say it’s the hardest year of their life.”  He paused and stared back at the dark ocean.  The sound of the lapping water was all that separated us.  “I want you to be with me.”  He looked at me with conviction now.  “Will you consider moving south with me after you graduate?  I know it’s a little sudden for me to say this, and a big thing to think about, but all I know is how much I need you with me.  You don’t have to give me an answer now, but will you be thinking about it?” 

His hands grasped my small forearms now.  Kissing me lightly, he pulled me to himself.  Breathing in the scent of my hair, he whispered, “Gosh, I love you, Jenny.”

Part XII

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Part XII

Summertime, as it always does, flew by way too quickly.  We knew that when August threw open her inferno doors, I would head back to school and Travis would begin his trek northward to Washington.  And while our last semester separated by long distance wasn’t too difficult for me, I couldn’t imagine how we would endure for one whole year.  Love had caught me – hard and fast – and all I wanted was to be with him, at all times, in all circumstances.  One evening in the early days of July, it hit me like a ton of bricks: I was in love.  His brother had married July 2^nd and Travis was busy with all the wedding festivities, causing us to be a part for a couple of days.  Those days seemed like an eternity, so used to having him with me was I.  On the third day in a row of being apart, feelings of emptiness and meaninglessness so acute filled my being.  I laid in bed that night, staring at the old, glow-in-the-dark stars and planets stuck on my ceiling.  What is wrong with me? I wondered.  I was clueless as to what or how these feelings had arisen.  Heading to the bathroom, I pulled open one of the windows.  Our bathroom windows provided a great view: the hill behind our home, trees across the way, the end of our cul-de-sac, and of course, the rising moon – crystal and white, glowing in the navy sky.  Sighing deeply, I stared at the night sky, hoping to find peace, or at least answers for my despondent attitude.  Breathing in the night air, I missed him.  I wanted him.  I longed for his company, his arms around me, him.  “I love him,” I whispered, shocking myself.  For indeed, I had been adamantly resisting falling in love for as long as possible.  I wanted to know for sure that this was love.  I didn’t want to be caught up in the passion and glee of our relationship and label it love.  I wanted to know him, spend hours with him, squabble with him… I was cautious when it came to saying “love.”  Yet, here I was, pining away at the window for him. 

Oh I knew he wasn’t perfect.  He had made his share of mistakes during the time we’d spent together.  Yet, so had I.  He had said the wrong thing at the wrong time, as well as the right thing at the right time.  We had offended one another more than once, but we had also poured out affection and love on one another more times than I could count.  It was now that I was realizing that he was human.  Love wasn’t going to be this perfect immortal, coming down from heaven to meet every one of my needs.  Love was a human who loved me just the way I was, strove for the same things I strove for, made mistakes, made me laugh, and covered my multitude of shortcomings.   While crying to my dad earlier on in Travis’ and my relationship, I bemoaned my mixed emotions over this boy. 

“Dad, I just don’t know how to figure out if he’s the perfect one for me!!”  I sobbed, lying on his bed, seeking any easy answer I could find.

Sighing, my poor father looked at me.  The brother of three sisters & father of three girls, he was made with an extra dose of patience for the female hormonal system.  “Jen,” he waited until I wiped the fresh tears from my cheeks.  “You can’t ask, ‘Is he perfect for me?’.”  No one in all this earth is perfect.  You could find ten different guys that are perfect for you, given the right circumstances.  What you need to ask is simply, ‘Can I live without him?’ and there you’ll find your answer.”

No, I couldn’t, I decided.  I could not and did not want to live without Travis, I realized and admitted that July evening.  Smiling to myself over my new found epiphany, I sucked in one last gulp of night air, closed the window, and curled back up in my bed. 

*

As soon as the wedding took place and family returned back home, I felt free to venture over to Trav’s home once again.  I didn’t want to take Travis away from his family time (that he rightfully partook in!), yet I also didn’t want to assume an important place in the family time, seeing as I was only the girlfriend.  I attended the festivities and such, but backed off a bit, so as to not barge in.  His parents and family were completely welcoming and loving, yet I just felt awkward with the whole situation.  He, and his parents, were glad to see me back with him once the craziness died down.

One such evening, we were playing checkers in the back room.  Chit-chatting about this and that, he would reach for my hand and gently stroke the back of it between every move he made.  He was awesome at this game.  I was terrible.  The basic pattern that imitated everything we did together. 

“Guess what?” I murmured. 

He studied the board.  I was aiming to line up my players so I could skip him.  It was difficult to pull a fast one on him.  “What?”

“I love you,” I stated as a matter of fact.

His head sprung up and he stared at me.  He had already declared his love for me the second day we had been back in town for the summer.  He knew it was early to say it, but he couldn’t hold it in any longer.  He said that he had honestly loved me the first time he saw me in Colorado, right when I appeared in church and had ran up to him, excitedly saying hello.  For him, it was definitely “love at first sight.”  He knew that I was a bit slower in coming around.  He knew I needed time to figure out my mind in the matter, and he was perfectly okay with that.  He simply loved being with me and loved me, and if those two things didn’t bother me, then he was fine with waiting for my own emotions to match his own – however long that took.

“Reaaallly…” he drew out the word in a slow drawl, his grin growing larger by the second.

“Yep, I do.”  I tilted my head in a sassy manner.  Then, following it with a shy whisper, “I really do.”

He squeezed my hand and looked me in the eye, “I love you too, Jenny girl.”

We held eye contact for a moment or two, just enough time before it got too cheesy.  Smiling, he dropped his eyes to the board.  Picking up his black checker, he swiftly felled three of my pieces and landed his own on the front end of my battle line.  “King me,” he commanded.

Part XI

Part XI

I left Colorado that next Monday, flying high as a kite, hating the fact that I wouldn’t see him for another two and a half months.  I would come again in June to watch him graduate and then we would have the whole summer to ourselves.  Sixty uninterrupted, blissful days to be with one another.  Meanwhile, we hunkered down in our respective states and finished out our school year.  Continuing to write, chatting weekly, we grew in knowledge and care for one another.  Things were not always perfect.  I, ever the typical woman, had my bouts of insecurities, doubts, & “why are we dating, again?”  But Travis was faithful to allow me to share every last feeling and emotion, continually blowing me away by his steadfast affection and care for whom I was – not who he thought I was.  Numerous times after our phone conversations ending with me in tears, I would sheepishly ask, “You ready to break up with Crazy-Ol’-Hormonal-Jenny yet?”  Kindly, he would remind me that he loved seeing and knowing who I truly was, I didn’t scare him off.  Travis taught me early on what true, unconditional love was for a person.  He never pushed me to love him more, care for him more, be more steadfast in my feelings.  He simply and patiently waited for me, loving the journey the whole while.  For a stubborn gal like myself, who simply likes to defy the rules just because they’re instituted, there was a beauty and security about growing to realize how much I needed him in my own sense of time.

June quickly arrived and once again I made the trek out to Colorado.  One never tires of seeing the Rockies hovering on the distant horizon after snoring driving through Iowa and Nebraska.  Travis was graduating from the Air Force Academy and had invited me to join his family in the big celebration. Not knowing what to expect, I was blown away by the formality and awe-striking magnificence in which Tommy and Travis were experiencing.  The Thunderbirds flew overhead as the commencement ceremony concluded, for Heaven’s sake!  It was a whirlwind of a weekend: I met more family at one time than desirable – grandparents, aunts, uncles, cousins, sponsor family… Sleep was not a priority.  Flexibility was the name of the game.  Many times throughout the weekend, I began to feel out of place, not sure where I belonged.  As stories of the boys’ years unfolded through various conversation, I came to realize how grueling this time really was for Travis.  Every person that flew out to attend the graduation had played some meaningful role within the past four years, supporting Travis, loving him, providing encouragement and stability.  And here I was, girlfriend of a measly five months, tagging along like I was important in his life.  By the time we had begun dating, he was on the home stretch of his Academy days.  I wouldn’t label it “smooth sailing”, but compared to the last three and a half years, it certainly was.  What am I doing here? I began to ask myself.  I have contributed nothing to his life thus far and don’t deserve to be here, counted among the throng of those who have loved him through his darkest days.

But, attuned as he was to me, he would quickly see I was feeling out of place, drawing to the back of the crowds.  Never shy to show physical affection, he would grab my hand, wrap his sturdy arm around my waist, pull me close and make me feel as though we were a team – wherever he went, so did I.  You want Travis? Jenny comes along.  He introduced me to the crowds of family and friends as “the happiest days at the Academy.”

*

As aforementioned, Travis had sixty days of leave before he had to report to his new (and first assignment) as a commissioned officer of the United States Air Force.  He was to be stationed up in Washington state while I would finish up my senior year in Minnesota.  I, also, had the summer off from school, and we chose to spend our sixty days together in California.

It was blissful, living a mere ten minutes away from one another.  Warm, central coast weather; scenic landscaping; outdoor activities were bountiful.  We spent every.waking.moment with one another.  Rapidly, our affection grew to mild obsession; our friendship grew to best friends; and our fondness grew to love.  Oh, we had our moments of lover’s spats.  I had my occasional “Where is this all leading???” freak-out session.  We disagreed on minor subjects, and the more we grew in knowledge of one another, we realized how vastly different our personalities truly were.  Yet, we were beyond crazy for one another.  His face could melt my heart of stone, and with one kiss, we were [usually] back to giggling and holding hands. 

Since we were both living at our parents’ homes, we were forced to keep our kissing obsession to a minimum.  Each and every day it was as if we hadn’t seen one another for three years.  Throwing myself into his burly arms, I’d nuzzle my face so deeply into his chest, so as catch every scent possible on his body.  I wanted to know him, inside and out, have his smell so deeply ingrained in me that I could never lose him.  He would kiss me, thrillingly.  Every time I’d die and go straight to Heaven.  He was amazing.

It so happened that one weekend in July, my mother and father were to go out of town.  My younger siblings were at camp, and I had the house to myself.  All weekend.  I was 20 years old, responsible and well-trusted by my parents.  Yet, my mother, as she kissed me goodbye, warned, “Don’t be found alone in this house with him at night time.  It won’t look good to the neighbors.”  She tapped me lightly on the nose, smiled sweetly, and bid me adieu.  No, I knew I couldn’t have Trav here by myself.  It was far too tempting a situation. That man was intoxicating and I knew it far too well.

Yet, one evening, after walking me to my door to kiss me goodnight, I invited him in – just for a glass of water­.  We both knew better, and as one thing led to another… I succumbed to his other-worldly kisses, the way he held my back as he cradled my head in his arms.  I loved feeling ever muscle flex in his biceps as I gripped them for support to stand.  It was as if angels were breathing down on us, the way everything about him felt so perfectly delicious.  The minutes flew by and I found myself thinking, “He has got to stop this before it goes too far.  I am in over my head… he is just too perfect…”

RRRRRRRINNGGGG!  RRRRRRRIIIINNGGGG!!

Our lips parted instantaneously and we drew back, eyes glazed over with lust.  What was….?

RRRRRRIIIIINGGGGG!   RRRRRRRRIIINNNNNGGGG!!!

The phone.  My parent’s phone!  We clamored to find a clock – 11:45 p.m.  Oh geeze.  It was late – who would be calling at this hour.  I rushed to the phone and caught it before the third ring.

“Hello?”  I tried to relax every nerve in me that was tingling and silence my still-racing heart.

“Jenny?  Hi, this is Noonie.”  Travis’ mom.  I melted to a big puddle of embarrassment right there on my mom’s kitchen floor.

“Oh hi, Noonie,” I tried to sound inviting, as if she were calling at 11:45 a.m. instead of p.m.

“Is Travis there?” her voice mostly concerned, mixed with a slight bit of condemnation.

“Yes, hold on one moment.”  I held out the phone to him, and mouthed “It’s your mom.”

“Hey, Mom,” he answered.  “Ya.  I know.  We just lost track of time.  Yep.  K.  I’ll be leaving soon.  See ya.  Love you too.”

I grimaced at him as he hung the phone back on it’s charger.  “Is she mad at us?”  I felt a pit in my stomach, as if I were a 7-year old girl who just got caught with her hand in the cookie jar.

“Naw,” he yawned, running his fingers through his hair.  “I think she’s a bit disappointed, but she just said it wasn’t good for me to be over here when your parents’ aren’t here.  She’s not mad.”

“Ya,” I agreed shamefacedly.  “You should probably go,” and as I turned to grab his coat, I heard him gasp my name.  Startled, I quickly turned back to see what alarmed him. 

“What?” I asked anxiously.

“Jen…” he managed to say.  He looked as if he was stifling a laugh, suppressing a smile, and wanted to cry all at the same time.  “Jen, your neck!”

Grabbing at my neck, I didn’t understand.  Was there a spider?  Did I have a zit?  What??

Clasping my arm, he drug me to the bathroom mirror, where lo and behold! I beheld my first hickey.  Huge and purple, it appeared as though someone had struck me with a baseball bat right on the side of my neck.  “Travis…..” I moaned.  “Is this a… a…. HICKEY???  Travis!!!  YOU GAVE ME A HICKEY!!!”

Immediately, he broke out laughing.  Disbelieving, I stared at him.  What was so humorous about this, I didn’t know.  This … this… THING on the side of my neck looked as if it were here to stay and I couldn’t have felt more humiliated and horrified.  This is what naughty girls got!  This made me look like a freakin’ hussy!  I had to work tomorrow and… and…

“Travis!  My PARENTS are coming home tomorrow!”

All laughing ceased instantaneously.  His handsome face grew grave while his forehead wrinkled in concentration.  Tears of desperation were forming in my eyes as I knew I could never EVER in a thousand, billion years hide this from my mother. 

“C’mon,” he grasped my hand.  “Let’s go Google how to remove a hickey.”

That was the first intelligent thing he had said all night.

*

The next morning, I tied a scarf around my neck, over the top my turtleneck sweater, and headed to work – in the middle of JULY.  I felt the odd stares of people drilling into my back, so I simply complained (and lied) of feeling a cold coming on.  My parents were due home at 3:00, and I got off work at 1:00.  Travis was picking me up and we were going to meet my parents for dinner.  Dropping me off at my house to shower and get ready, he told me he’d see me at 5 o’clock, when he’d come back to meet up with us all.  I smiled nervously at him and he wished me luck. 

“I don’t think I’ll be able to keep it a secret,” I warned him.  “My mom knows everything.  She is omniscient.” 

“You’ll do fine, babe,” he called as he backed out of my driveway.  “Just wear what you’re wearing now!”  And he waved goodbye.

But that would never do.  I was already sweating bullets in the 90 degree weather, the wool sweater scratching my sensitive skin.  Not to mention the floral scarf of my mother’s that I had wrapped twice around my slender neck, as if I were concerned any part of my epidermis might make me appear too skanky. 

Just as luck would have it, my parents drove up our street right as I was turning to go back in the house and plan out my demise.  “Early!” I thought.  “They’re not due for another hour or so!”  Every bone in my body felt as if it weighed 100 pounds.  Oh well… here goes.

I waved at my parents as they swung into the driveway.  They were both smiling, seemingly relaxed and at peace from their weekend away.  I loved seeing my parents happy with one another.  It’s not that I ever remember them unhappy together, but in the midst of rearing five children, living life, and earning a living, distance slowly creeps in and creates strangers.  Every now and then, my parents would sneak away for a night or two up the coast.  Without fail, they’d arrive home peaceful, smiles on their faces, holding hands.  Nothing made us five children feel more secure and loved than to see our two parents loving one another. 

Stepping out of the car, my dad gave me a big hug before beginning to tote their luggage into the house.  Mom hung back and swung her arms around my neck for a hug before asking, “How was your time, J?”  I eyed her suspiciously.  Did she know already?  Was I that obvious??  How do moms ALWAYS know when something isn’t quite right?

I sighed.  I couldn’t keep it from her if I tried.  Raising the white flag, I admitted, “It was good, Ma.  I just have to tell you, cuz I can’t keep it from you.”  Pulling down my turtleneck, I gave mom a good look of my love bruise.  “Yes, it’s a hickey.  But Mom, I swear we weren’t doing anything bad or anything.  We were just kissing – a lot – but nothing else, Ma.  I don’t even know how it happened… I …” I slowly trailed off.  Eyeing her response, I wasn’t prepared for what she said.

Laughing, she pulled me close again.  “Gosh Jen!  It’s okay.  I trust you.  You know, I think it just might be your dark skin type that easily gets hickeys.  Your dad used to get them all the time, too, when we would kiss.  And he has that same dark skin.”  And with that, she led the way back into the house.  Stunned, and slightly repulsed by that tid-bit of info, I stammered after her, “Mom, puh-leeze don’t tell dad!”

*

Heading upstairs, I enjoyed a leisurely shower.  Well, that went better than expected.  Mom was rather nonplussed, which helped me breathe easier.  Trav has no idea that I told Mom, but he doesn’t have to know necessarily…

Stepping out of the shower, I dressed quickly and began applying my make-up when I heard a knock at the bathroom door.  Opening it, there stood my dad.  “Hey Pa,” I said, swinging the door open.  He came inside and found a seat on the toilet lid, as he watched my continue to mascara my eyelashes. 

“So Sweets, how was your weekend?” he queried.

“Good…” I yawned while aiming not to get black goo on my eyelid.

“You do anything fun?  Trav take you out at all?”

“Ya, we went out a couple times.  I worked yesterday and today.  Nothing much besides that.”  I tried to remain low-key.

There was a pause of silence.  I liked when my dad just wanted to be with me.  It made me feel special – like he enjoyed my company.  When I didn’t say anything else for a few moments, he slowly pushed himself off the toilet seat and came and stood behind me.  “Welp, I guess I’m going to go shower now.  Glad you had a good weekend, Sweetheart.”  He leaned in to give me a quick kiss, when he pulled away dramatically.  

“Jenny!  What is on your neck!?”

Humiliated, I covered my hickey with my hand.  I hadn’t expected him to notice, I thought my hair had covered it well – plus, my dad wasn’t the most observant person ever to grace this planet.  Staring at him, I saw it in his eyes first.  Glowing with humor, the laughter poured from his eyes before it ever reached his lips.  Seeing my horrified expression, he couldn’t hold it in any longer.  He was chuckling under his breath as he admitted, “Aw, Jen, your mom told me.  I just wanted to give you a hard time.  Kissing, eh?” and he walked out of the bathroom. 

“Dad, don’t tell Travis you know!” I yelled after him.

*

Travis arrived right on time.  He looked incredible in a white polo and jeans.  His tanned skin offset his white smile and sandy hair.  I met him at the door to let him in.  I had chosen a violet, sleeveless top paired with Mom’s floral scarf wrapped delicately around my neck.  He gathered me quickly in his arms for a sweet kiss before I led him into the kitchen, where Mom was calling our names. 

“Hi Donna!” Trav greeted my mom with a hug.  She loved him almost as much as I did.  His charm and personality was hard to resist.  Holding my breath, I listened while Travis conversed with my mom about their weekend.  She remained cordial and delightful, as always, never hinting she knew.  Shortly after Travis arrived, my dad bounded down the steps.  Joining us in the kitchen, he smelled like “Dad”: cologne mixed with shaving cream. 

“Hey Trav,” he acknowledged him with a firm handshake and friendly smile.  Dad also liked Travis much.  The mere fact that Travis played college ball was a good sign.  Not to mention that he was a big USC fan.  My dad was a die-hard baseball fan and an alumni of USC.  Two very important common denominators.

There was a bit of small talk while everyone caught up.  Catching a lull in the conversation, I urged everyone onward – out to the cars.  I wanted to leave our small kitchen as soon as possible, so to avoid any mention of the hickey.  Travis grabbed my hand and prepared to lead me outside, but not before my dad caught me with his words. 

“Jenny, are you sure you want to wear that scarf outside?  It’s so hot outside.”

Frozen in my place, I glared at him.  Dad… not now.

But he was in it for the long haul.  I looked at Travis.  His face had gone sheet white and he was staring down at me, looking for my answer.

“Dad…” I whined.  “I like this scarf.”

“But really,” he walked towards me.  “I think you should just leave it at home,” and he snatched it off my neck.  The Hickey was lain bare – for all eyes to gaze upon.  My face went red and I almost sunk straight through the floor to China.  I heard Travis inhale sharply.  Peeking up at him, he was staring straight ahead – making eye contact with no one.  “Sweetheart!” my dad exclaimed facetiously, “what is on your neck?”

“DAD!!!  Quit it!”   I pushed him playfully away.

Laughter erupted from my mom’s mouth, then my dad’s.  Trav and I stood there, hand in hand, gazing at my parents, holding their guts laughing – at us.  I glanced at Travis, whose face was a mixture of confusion and mortification.  “They know,” I stated the obvious.

Clapping a hand on Travis’ shoulder, my dad wiped his teary eyes and sighed, “Oh c’mon you guys!  Lighten up.  It’s not like we’ve never been in your shoes before.  I had to say something, seeing as you gave my daughter a hickey!”  With that, he lead my mom out the front door, as we silently followed behind – two ashamed pups put rightly in their place.