continues, her face aglow from the memory of that day. “Stomping in the puddles—laughing because there was no point in trying to keep dry anymore. And once home…”
“We tore each other’s clothes off. It was the first time we ever made love—soaking wet and laughing, rolling around on your bed.”
She gazes into her champagne glass as though divining the future in its bubbly depths. “Will it ever be that way again?”
I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “It’s asking a lot to think everything can be just as it was. We had something beautiful—”
“And I ruined it,” she whispers.
“Who knows? Maybe in time it can be good again…not like it was…different—but still good.”
The restaurant is nearly full now. We say no more as we eat our meal and look at the churning sea.
With our melancholy meal out of the way, Gwen rises from her seat and gestures to the calypso band playing a slow song in the lounge. “Come dance with me.”
Other couples are dancing arm in arm, smiling, chattering to each other. The last thing I want to do is join them. Nevertheless, Gwen stands before me, hand outstretched, with such a sad, hopeful expression, that I take her hand and stride to the dance floor. Connor and Alexandra are there. He dips her with dramatic flourish and she squeals with delight. I cannot stand to be near him. I lead Gwen to the other side of the dance floor. Don and Amy dance cheek to cheek, and wave to us as we approach.
The music is familiar to me, a calypso rendition of an American pop love song, and the band plays it expertly. I place my hand around Gwen’s waist and we sway unenthusiastically to the music, neither speaking nor looking at each other. With a jovial nudge, Don advises me how to dance with more zeal. I mumble a response, trying to force a smile. I look at Gwen; tears brim in her eyes. A lump rises in my throat. She breaks away from me, wipes her eyes, and heads towards the beach stairs. The couples dancing around us look on with concern. Embarrassed, I follow Gwen. She halts long enough to take her heels off, and then continues walking away from the bright lights of the restaurant towards the dark beach.
“Gwen, wait,” I call to her. She ignores me. I run after her, grab her arm, and spin her around.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
Weeping, she wraps her arms around herself. Wind off the ocean flings her hair in her face; she brushes it away. “What are we doing here, Phillip? We’ve spent so much money to come here and for what? I’m trying to save our marriage, Phillip. I’m really trying. Each time I feel I’ve made just a little progress with you…the next instant I find I’m right back where I started. We’re doing things together, having fun, and then we sit at a table like two complete strangers.”
“What do you want from me? To be the person I was before—the person I was before you cheated on me? You’re trying…well, I’m trying, too, but it’s not easy to go back to how things were before,” a sob catches in my throat. “Why’d you do it, Gwen? Why’d you throw it all away?”
A fat tear streams down her face. “I don’t know.”
“Was he funnier than me? Better in bed than me?”
“No, no,” she murmurs.
“Then why, Gwen? You’ve told me a lot of things since I saw you with Patrick. You’ve told me you were sorry. You’ve told me you love me. You even said that you’d work to bring us together again, but there’s one thing you haven’t told me. Why, Gwen? Why?”
Her voice is almost inaudible. “I don’t know.”
“Why?” I shout.
“I don’t know, Phillip. I don’t have an answer. If I knew maybe I wouldn’t have done it.”
I look back to the happy couples mingling in the lounge. Thankfully, they cannot hear us over the calypso band. Many of them are celebrating anniversaries while I stand on the shore with a marriage washing out on the tide.
I turn back to Gwen. “I’ll tell you something: I
“We tore each other’s clothes off. It was the first time we ever made love—soaking wet and laughing, rolling around on your bed.”
She gazes into her champagne glass as though divining the future in its bubbly depths. “Will it ever be that way again?”
I take a deep breath, choosing my words carefully. “It’s asking a lot to think everything can be just as it was. We had something beautiful—”
“And I ruined it,” she whispers.
“Who knows? Maybe in time it can be good again…not like it was…different—but still good.”
The restaurant is nearly full now. We say no more as we eat our meal and look at the churning sea.
With our melancholy meal out of the way, Gwen rises from her seat and gestures to the calypso band playing a slow song in the lounge. “Come dance with me.”
Other couples are dancing arm in arm, smiling, chattering to each other. The last thing I want to do is join them. Nevertheless, Gwen stands before me, hand outstretched, with such a sad, hopeful expression, that I take her hand and stride to the dance floor. Connor and Alexandra are there. He dips her with dramatic flourish and she squeals with delight. I cannot stand to be near him. I lead Gwen to the other side of the dance floor. Don and Amy dance cheek to cheek, and wave to us as we approach.
The music is familiar to me, a calypso rendition of an American pop love song, and the band plays it expertly. I place my hand around Gwen’s waist and we sway unenthusiastically to the music, neither speaking nor looking at each other. With a jovial nudge, Don advises me how to dance with more zeal. I mumble a response, trying to force a smile. I look at Gwen; tears brim in her eyes. A lump rises in my throat. She breaks away from me, wipes her eyes, and heads towards the beach stairs. The couples dancing around us look on with concern. Embarrassed, I follow Gwen. She halts long enough to take her heels off, and then continues walking away from the bright lights of the restaurant towards the dark beach.
“Gwen, wait,” I call to her. She ignores me. I run after her, grab her arm, and spin her around.
“Where are you going?” I ask.
Weeping, she wraps her arms around herself. Wind off the ocean flings her hair in her face; she brushes it away. “What are we doing here, Phillip? We’ve spent so much money to come here and for what? I’m trying to save our marriage, Phillip. I’m really trying. Each time I feel I’ve made just a little progress with you…the next instant I find I’m right back where I started. We’re doing things together, having fun, and then we sit at a table like two complete strangers.”
“What do you want from me? To be the person I was before—the person I was before you cheated on me? You’re trying…well, I’m trying, too, but it’s not easy to go back to how things were before,” a sob catches in my throat. “Why’d you do it, Gwen? Why’d you throw it all away?”
A fat tear streams down her face. “I don’t know.”
“Was he funnier than me? Better in bed than me?”
“No, no,” she murmurs.
“Then why, Gwen? You’ve told me a lot of things since I saw you with Patrick. You’ve told me you were sorry. You’ve told me you love me. You even said that you’d work to bring us together again, but there’s one thing you haven’t told me. Why, Gwen? Why?”
Her voice is almost inaudible. “I don’t know.”
“Why?” I shout.
“I don’t know, Phillip. I don’t have an answer. If I knew maybe I wouldn’t have done it.”
I look back to the happy couples mingling in the lounge. Thankfully, they cannot hear us over the calypso band. Many of them are celebrating anniversaries while I stand on the shore with a marriage washing out on the tide.
I turn back to Gwen. “I’ll tell you something: I
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