We visited all the restaurants at least once. With many to choose from, it was hard to decide each evening which one to go to. Since we would be there for ten days and there were nine restaurants, it made it a little easier. We would have the opportunity to go to all of them. Each night, I took advantage of something local on my plate, whether it was the local fish, a vegetable, or something more exotic. As with wine, I believe the beauty in a place such as this shines in the local fare. Much is to be said of the historical gastronomy of any place on earth. From this point on, I would make it so with wherever I traveled. Eat local, shop local, patronize local. I do it at home, so why not anywhere in the world?

                Nine excellent dinners, too much time in the sand and sun and after too many trips to the poolside bar, it was time to return home. On the plane, I found myself thinking about Raul. I should have asked more questions. As I remembered the events of the week, I thought to myself that I should have engaged Raul in more conversation. He was nice enough to tell me about the “local” spots that most travelers would be unaware of; so why hadn’t I asked him about himself? Perhaps I wanted to be served and was in fact a bit closed-minded in my own dialogue. Maybe I didn’t want for him to know me. At any rate, I would make it a point to be less selfish and more sincere with strangers in the future.

                Upon returning home, it was back to business as usual. We had arrived home late on a Tuesday evening with work staring us right in the face early Wednesday morning. My mother called me at the office Wednesday morning to chat for a bit. It was not normal for my mother to call me at work, but I jumped at the chance to take my mind off of my already busy schedule. She wanted more details about the honeymoon and what the plans were for the weekend. As usual, I had planned to visit on Saturday to do my laundry. Also, this would be the weekend that Graham would move into the apartment.

                On Saturday, he arrived around six A.M. with a cup of coffee and a cup of tea. We had hoped to get his stuff in the apartment by noon and then I would go out to see mom and Dad. As we unloaded his car, I felt a true sense of "connectedness", followed by a feeling of being scared. How would I be as a wife? Insecurities seemed to punch me in the eye and the back of the head. After just thirty minutes of unpacking, I felt like I had gone twelve rounds with Mohammed Ali. How I could feel so secure on the day of our wedding and at the same time so insecure ten days later was beyond comprehension. All I knew at that moment was that someone new was invading my space.

The night before, I had composed a short letter.

Graham,

I am truly excited about this adventure that we are embarking on in our new life together. Like most women, I have thought about my wedding day since I was a little girl. I believe that you have breathed new life into me at a time when I was fragile. To that end, I believe I still am. All I ask is that you walk beside me. Not in front, and not behind.

Tomorrow we will be making a home. And while I have a picture in my mind for what that might look like, I ask you to be patient with me. I know you are going to leave the seat up and forget to hang your towel perfectly as I would. I forgive you already.

Do me the favor of always putting your best foot forward. I feel as though you will provide for me and take care of me in my time of need, but sometimes all I will need is your presence. I will need your words of encouragement after a rough day at the office. I will need you to let me be alone when I need time to myself or by myself with my parents. I welcome you with open arms as my companion for life.

Stephanie

                

Moving day went better than planned. After we had moved in what was mostly clothes, a bicycle, an old baseball glove and some books; we were organizing our own little “love nest”, as I liked to call it. Around noon, I left for my parents after the final gesture of giving him a key. It was “our” place.

                

On Tuesday of the following week, I walked out to the mailbox and found a surprise in the mailbox. It was a letter from Rona.

Stephanie,

I heard through the grapevine that you got married. I wanted to extend my well wishes to you and Graham and apologize for that night some time ago. In the glow of the homecoming atmosphere and perhaps one too many libations, I feel as though it is in some way my fault that you left Vanderbilt. For that, I express deep regret.

On the other hand, again I wish you and Graham well. I know in my heart that the both of you are doing what you can to be successful in your chosen careers and in your marriage. I hope and pray that you both are blessed.

On a final note, I wanted to let you know that I was accepted to medical school. After countless hours filling out applications, preparing for interviews, and visiting prospective schools, I have been accepted and have agreed to admission at the University of Tennessee. From Nashville to Knoxville. I will start in the fall.

Best,

Rona

I sat down for a while on my porch and reread the letter several times. Part of me wanted to disregard that I had ever received it, but the person inside of me said I should at least acknowledge its acceptance. I had thought on several occasions even prior to leaving Vanderbilt that I should forgive her. Yes, in some way, she was the principle reason that I left Vanderbilt. I reasoned with myself that I was doing well and the best thing to do was to congratulate her for doing well. Not everyone makes it into medical school.

On Friday I got up the nerve to call. She was still taking time to work for a local doctor beginning to hone her skills for what would be a long four years at the University of Tennessee. After I got off the phone, I realized that her moment of drunken candor was just that. She was now dating and enjoying some much needed time off for the next nine or ten months. I decided, though not telling her on that day, that I would visit her in Knoxville the following fall.

                It was not long before the holiday season came upon us. It was beginning to get cold in Roanoke and I was beginning to miss the smell of sheets that have flapped in the fresh air to dry. Graham and I had started where we left off the summer before. We were walking nearly every night for exercise and were either hiking or biking on the weekends. I was enjoying cooking for him each evening and making trips to the wine aisle of the grocery store. In my mind, I was doing my best to be the perfect wife. I believed that I was doing a good job of it also, I must say. I usually had dinner on the table sharply at six o’clock despite working a full day. Graham was good about helping with the dishes after dinner. Usually after dinner, I would make myself a cup of tea or indulge in a second or sometimes third glass of wine. Have I mentioned the wine? I was becoming quite the connoisseur.

                Graham also was developing a fine palate; although, he was not much of a drinker and even preferred craft beer at times. In the fall it was time to get him indoctrinated into some of the family traditions. At home by myself usually, one of my favorite things was watching the Charlie Brown holiday series. Staring with, “It’s the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown”, and ending with “A Charlie Brown Christmas”, I had hoped that he would not immediately make me out to be a seven year-old in a twenty-five year-old body. At any rate, I was planning to watch them with or without him.

                I was never much of a decorator – at least not from season to season - but I decided we should at least carve our own pumpkin for the porch that year. Neither of us had much of a creative gene, so our pumpkin looked exactly like it had been carved by an amateur. And we were. Halloween came and went and it was only a few weeks till Black Friday…one of my favorite times of the year. Since I was now working, I could do more damage.

                Mom and I talked for several weeks about where to go. We decided this year that we would fly to Los Angeles. I had never been to California, much less Rodeo Drive, and was eager to spend some quality time in stores I could not even afford. Just going to such a place would make me feel like a star. I made plans before I left on how much I would spend. I normally am not one to give myself a budget when I am in the mood to shop, but in a place like that, those little plastic cards that we carry in our wallets can be a foe rather than a friend.

                Two weeks prior to Thanksgiving, we booked our tickets and it was then that I became truly ecstatic. I was going to Hollywood! Graham was not overly excited about this, as he had managed to help me keep a lid on my spending since the honeymoon. I was earning a decent living working at the family business and Graham was doing well. In the back of my mind, I had a number that I felt was the monetary threshold for which Graham would absolutely pitch a fit. That became my limit.

                On Thanksgiving Day, we arrived early enough so that I could watch the Macy’s Day Parade with my mother prior to beginning the cooking. The turkey was already in the oven, so it was mainly the other side dishes that would have to be made. We sat down for Thanksgiving dinner in the late afternoon. As was the custom, we started by going around the table to express a few words of gratitude and thanks for the blessings of the preceding months. My brother was first and was thankful for the countless hours that he had flown without incident. Mother was thankful for all that she had, a son who was doing well, a newly married daughter and son-in-law, and the blessings that my father had provided her. Dad was predictable, but honest in his description of how another successful year in business had kept us in the comforts that we had grown accustomed to. I was thankful for my marriage and the beauty of my new relationship. Graham, however, could think of nothing. Odd it seemed, but glaringly true at the moment.

                So as not to rattle any cage, my father continued with the blessing. It was short, but sweet. During dinner, my mother asked the most questions and we answered appropriately. Dinner seemed somewhat bland as the conversation ensued. I wondered why Graham had not been forthcoming. Certainly there was something that he was thankful for. After dinner, I pulled him aside to ask what was on his mind. The typical response of the stress surrounding the family business was his answer. When I pushed him further, he came clean with the fact that his father was recently diagnosed with cancer. In his anger, he could not see the forest for the trees. After dessert I suggested that we take a walk out on the farm even though the chill of the fall air could be felt. It was pancreatic cancer, and his father was given less than nine months to live.

                He had held on to this information so as not to shake our new relationship, but I felt a sense of being left in the dark. If I had known this, perhaps we would have been eating with his family instead of mine. We had chosen to eat at only my place this first Thanksgiving, as Graham thought it to be most appropriate due to his new place within the family. As we walked across the grass that was beginning to form dew in the cold and blustery evening, I wondered about the toll that our relationship might take in lockstep with the wind. Would we be experiencing a long and cold winter of emotions? I shuddered at the fact.

                Not wanting to leave, I reluctantly boarded the plane with my mother bound for Los Angeles. I wanted to enjoy this trip and wondered if it would be possible. I had high expectations for our shopping excursion this year. After a few hours, we stopped at Chicago-Midway en route to Los Angeles International. Our layover was short and I decided to call Graham and see how he was doing. I could hear the fear in his voice as we tried not to approach the subject of what I had just learned. He did well at trying to get me to focus on having a good trip with my mother. I ensured him that I would, if only I could.

                We landed in California the early the following morning. Upon picking up our baggage and our rental car, we headed to the hotel. We had booked a room for our stay at the Mosaic Hotel. Located just a few minutes to Rodeo Drive, we would soon embark on our holiday tradition. The “shop girl” that I am, I could not wait to stroll down three blocks of the most luxurious shopping in the world.

                

Lauren, Prada, Louis Vuitton, Armani, Coach, Jimmy Choo; oh, I was in heaven. Despite my feelings of abandonment, I could not disguise my utter amazement of the glitz and glam of the occasion. The feelings of being on the red carpet abound in every shopper who graces the streets. They know their place, they know they can afford what they want, and I was among them.

By noon I had purchased three pairs of shoes, a Coach handbag, a scarf from Brooks Brothers for Graham and also a suit from Canali. He was absolutely going to have something to be happy about upon my return if I had anything to do with it. I couldn’t decide on diamond studs for myself between Harry Winston and Tiffany & Co. In the end, it was Harry who would take my American Express. I had managed to spend over six thousand dollars in a matter of hours and it was not yet noon.

                I had already exceeded my budget as we sat down to lunch. And there were two blocks of shopping that we had yet to explore. I decided that I needed to pull in the reins on the next two blocks. But there was Lacoste, and Manolo Blahnik, Versace, Burberry, and Dolce & Gabbana. What was I to do? We continued to shop and I ended up with three more pair of shoes, a scarf for myself from Burberry, sunglasses by Prada, and some ties for Graham courtesy of Tom Ford. By dinner, my American Express was even feeling taxed.

                We decided to have dinner at McCormick & Schmick's Fish House. Mom had done much better than I only splurging on a few ties for Dad and a pair of shoes. We had taken our bags back to the hotel prior to dinner. I was in the mood for steak and fish, so I went with a surf and turf option. Mom chose a salad even though I had asked her to get whatever she wanted. I had insisted that I was paying, for which she replied that I had better rethink that gesture after my day on Rodeo Drive. I was already at double my proposed budget of five thousand dollars. Not wanting for anything more at the moment, I starred deeply into my glass of wine. It was a Cabernet which had a hue similar to that of blood and I thought about Graham’s father and just how fragile life is.

               

  I went to bed with a heavy heart

.

                The next day of shopping was a blur. I may as well have smoked marijuana or taken LSD that morning because everything was a blur. The sounds from the streetcars, the flashing of the stoplights, even the crosswalks put me into a gloomy haze. It was surreal at best. And all the while, there was a clear thought that my new husband’s father was going to die. It was eminent.

                After boarding the plane, I was like a block of ice looking outside the window. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t sleep, I couldn’t cry. What was I going to say when I returned home to Graham? Surely the suit, ties, and scarf would be no consolation. 

Not even my enduring love could take away the pain. 

As we entered and exited the clouds, I began to pray:

God, this is Stephanie. Graham and I are about to go through what will undoubtedly be one of the hardest times of our lives together. I can only imagine what he is going through, for if it was my father I would be devastated. Please help us in our time of need. Only you have the power to give Graham and his father the best of the remaining days that you will allow him to have on this earth. I ask you to give him comfort in his time of need and give Graham the strength to endure the pain by his side.

Amen

                While this was a short prayer, it seemed as if it lasted the entire way to Chicago-Midway. We had a short layover and then boarded the plane for Roanoke.  Upon landing in the Star city, Graham was there to pick us up. He looked as though he had been battling with a lion the entire time that I was gone. I gave him all I had, which were my arms around his neck and a kiss. No words would come at that time.