A Life Wasted

Stable Life 1984

After the Goodman offer I paid attention to Mary's order to work less and spend more time at home.   After the sacrifice she'd made for me I couldn't refuse her.  We were making lots of money so it was easy to relax a little.  We found a nice house in a quiet neighborhood in the Great Bridge area, found a local church, bought new furniture and set up our home.  For the first time in our marriage we had the money and time to relax and enjoy each other.  I'd always been happy and content with Mary, but this was the first time I remembered being able to relax.

During this time I received an invitation to the grand opening of a customer, a Shell Oil subsidiary.  The Governor of Virginia and a senior Shell Oil VP were going to speak and many important business figures would attend.  I convinced Mary to go with me as "eye candy" so we got a sitter and planed to make a day of it.  That morning when we were getting ready I went into the master bathroom to tie my necktie.  Mary was standing at the sink counter, she wore a slip and bra.  Her hair was already fixed up and she was putting on makeup.  Mary's not into dress up.  I assume she'd wore make up during our marriage, but I don't recall noticing any on her, and I was sure I'd never watched her put any on.  Seeing her like that stopped me.  I stood in the door and just watched her.  She noticed me in the mirror and her reflection smiled at me as she did something with her eyes.  To me, it was the most intimate moment we'd experienced.  I was overwhelmed by her beauty and by her presences.  She was every inch a woman and she was mine.

I went behind my wife and put my arms around her.  She stopped what she was doing and leaned back into me.  We stood like that for several minutes, looking at each other in the mirror, saying nothing.  I think everyone has a favorite frozen moment in life.  This was mine.  When I need to find peace in a storm, I think about that moment.  I see that beautiful woman, a woman full of life and love, a woman who trusts me and loves me without conditions.  My response is the same today as it was then: I can't believe this woman is my wife.  I marvel at how fortunate I am.  And given all I would put her through I have to fight off self-hate over not giving her what she wanted more than anything else:  Me home every night.  That's all she has asked of me.

Despite the pain and loathing that comes with the memory, it's my favorite memory.

A few days after that I surprised my wife with a pair of airline tickets to New York City.  We'd not been able to afford an engagement ring until now, so I wanted to make it an event.  From a woman I'd sat next to on a plane I learned of New York's Diamond District and that it was the best place in the country to buy a diamond ring.  I wanted the best for Mary so we flew from Virginia Beach to New York City.  Neither of us had been to the Big Apple before, so that alone was an experience.  We left the warm summer of Virginia Beach to arrived to the cold winter of New York City.  Since we hadn't thought to bring coats we took a cab to Macy's and shopped for coats, scarves and gloves.  After that we went to the diamond district to buy a rock.

We walked through the center of the diamond district and picked a small shop at random.  Its show room was the size of our kitchen, but bustled with activity.  The owner greeted us and asked how he could serve us.  I explained what we were after, then Mary added her input.  The old man thought for a moment then retrieved a single diamond which he presented in a folded piece of paper.  It was a beautiful stone, but neither of us knew anything about diamonds.  The owner perceived this, so he explained that if we walk down the block in either direction and turn down any of the side streets we would see dozens of signs for appraisers.  He told us to take the diamond, have it appraised, then return and make our decision.  I reached in my pocket but he stopped me.  "I trust you," he said.  So with no collateral and not even knowing our names, we left the small shop with a beautiful one carat diamond.

As we walked I looked for a tail.  I couldn't believe the old guy would simply allow two strangers to walk out of his shop with a diamond, but if someone were following us I couldn't spot them.  Granted this was New York City and not the woods.  At the end of the block we crossed the street and went half way to the next block before selecting an appraiser.  As he'd said, there were numerous ones.  Still not trusting the old diamond merchant who had trusted me, I carefully checked the small paper for a mark that would tell the appraiser either who he was or what he was suppose to tell us, but there was nothing other than blank paper with a diamond in the center.