Delicious Ambiguity | the rainbow named trust

Chapter 9 {Ebullience}

N O T E

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How quickly jealous I become of the wind when it, and not I, gets the privilege of properly messing up your hair.

Ebullience—the quality of being cheerful and full of energy, exuberance.

Dedicated to Leigh;

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Harry

We fall in love and sometimes we grow out of love. The happy ever afters end in pointless fights, constant whinings and for me—in failed marriages. Since last year I have been praying to find acceptance. The kind which rings in my bones and allows me to forgive myself for the mistakes I made and regret nightly and for keeping the past in me alive. In that order.

I look at Natalia, her swollen belly and then her hands as she stirs in her sleep, feet twitching to music only she can hear and a face as passive as it would be in slumber. Almost unconsciously I lean forward to remove a stray hair from her face. The only "good" memory I have of my father is one in which he said, "figure out what encourages your soul and have the courage to chase that." He showed us what he could do with all that passion—he left us for his work. Having a beautiful wife was definitely a god gift but it couldn't get worse than having two kids when one was at a peak of their Performing Arts career. I never want Natalia and me to reach this stage. I so want us to last but my Fake It Till You Make It game playing days are over.

Our fire has died out and we—I—are not admitting it. My eyes lack the usual glee they held for her. Natalia doesn't believe it that we're out of chances. She has always been a champion of Let's Pretend since Junior School. She had been 'made to be mine,' that's what Gia had said the day I introduced her to my parents. Childhood Sweethearts, they used to call us. We won the Perfect Couple award in our senior year prom. Nothing could keep us apart; neither her music degree from Trinity in Dublin nor my local gigs at college and part-time job at the bakery.

I can't rewrite the stars today and berate the woman she is for she and I had been good but not right for one another and we realized that a little—a child—late. I lift her hand into mine and caress the wedding ring, its pure white gold and diamonds sparkling and still intact, unlike our vows. I sense a déjà vu with memories just out of reach. Her hands are silky and pampered just like the rest of her. She has perfect pianist fingers with cool white skin and a perfect manicure that can caress my body in a lingering touch. Unknown guilt of letting it go stings my heart.

After dad left and mummy got the news through Facebook after seeing photos of him marrying the producer of his Performing Arts projects, she made Gia and me sit on the countertop and chanted, "Do not feel guilty to cut someone off from your life because some toxic relationships have to die. You aren't liable to be friends with everybody. You are allowed to choose who you surround yourself with even if that butthurt some." That day my respect for her doubled, tripled even. Someone as kind-hearted as her, held through her heartbreak, used a cuss word for the first time ever, in front of her children that too and did not cry over a man.

But mummy forgot to teach me what to do when/ if I am in my fathers' shoes. How do I continue an unhappy marriage? Is it worth it? Till when? I sigh gazing at Natalia. She isn't a classic with golden curls and snowy skin and baby blue eyes she is a half German elegance of ivory black hair and grey eyes with a full irresistible personality. Often when the house is too quiet and I travel to a world of my own I question, "What went wrong?" and the only answer I get is, "Respect." We lost that for each other and for ourselves.