Aubrey (Revolving With Axis)

044:

In moments she had taken us out to Whitefish Beach, which was deserted except for a guy with his dog, way down the shore. I held her door for her, and took her hand-- like it or not.

"What's going on in your head?" I took off my sneakers, to walk in the sand.

"Well, I just had other thoughts about the song, that's all."

"You weren't pissed 'cause I said that about your career?"

She glanced at me sideways. "Yeah, it startled me. It felt like a more personal attack. And I wondered why you'd do it."

"Honestly? Because I want you to sing with me."

Her eyebrows rose and fell a couple of times as she took that in. That was a childish excuse, and I knew it. I hummed the rest of my song, the stuff we'd worked on last night.

"Your song. It makes me think of a guy, somebody trying to make it-- poor, struggling with a wife and kid somewhere, and he is thinking of turning to crime, he has the connections, many of his friends have done it. There is so much pressure on people these days. "

I hadn't been thinking of that interpretation at all. But it made sense.

In that instant I loved her more than any other person on the planet. I loved--Loved hearing her interpretation of my words. The sudden tingle of adrenaline washed over me in powerful waves, as I realized there would always be many interpretations of my words. And they might all hold some truth.

"We all wonder that." She went on, squeezing my fingers as we walked along the cold sand, the breeze was cooler than comfortable. "It's like the biggest question for all people--the will you love me no matter what? question. We all love and we all take risks because we want to be loved for ourselves, but we know--we all know--"

"We are less than the perfection that our lover deserves."

"In our mind! The lover in our mind is perfect, because he or she seems perfect for us. But they themselves do not feel perfect."

"I want to be perfect for you."

She pulled me around to face her. I held her wrists as she cupped my cheeks. "Rafe, I don't want a perfect guy. I want someone who can admit his flaws--all of them--admit his quirks, his passions that go against his own beliefs and the ones that fit into his beliefs. I want a guy who is working on himself. I don't want a life with someone who is already perfect--who thinks they are better than me."

"Who thinks you are perfect. That he's not good enough for you." That was satisfying to me--she was perfect-- it was me who had all the flaws. I could handle that.

"Aubrey, the question remains. Will you still love me against all the odds?" I sang that line for her, and as her fingers curled away in denial, I held her there, cupped to my face, our eyes searching each other's.

"We never know the answer to that, do we?"

"I think it's a simple yes or no."

I stood there as she stepped back solemnly. "How can it be? Picture this:"  Her brows rose as she prepared to take on the thought. "We get to the point that we think we can answer that question in the affirmative. We think that no matter what happens, drug abuse, domestic abuse, hate crimes, loss of a job or a home, or financial strain, we think we can handle it--I'm saying anybody here, not that I specifically think you or I capable of doing those things--just saying..." She had that far away look, but I followed where her thinking was heading. "And we decide we can handle it, and commit to each other. We make promises, covenants, which are more than promises. It's like a swear and God is our witness. So we promise to always keep our covenants, and then: after all this time and struggle and work one of us betrays the other."

The time investment alone would be staggering.

"Because--." She said out loud. "I would still love you, but not the same. It would never be the same again. The innocence of love with trust and purity cannot quite ever be got back--and even with forgiveness--and there can be forgiveness for everything... the fact remains, we are not the Savior. We can't forget the way He can."

She'd triggered the religion button, but I didn't shut down immediately. Her words sank in dramatically. I found that I agreed with her.

She had actually listed a lot of horrible crimes that when I thought about it, would all be cause for divorce, and certainly cause for loss of trust. I'd seen plenty of people struggle with these issues, and not be able to hold it together, even though I'd been to their weddings and they had seemed like the perfect couples-- totally into each other on every level. And-- slow down there boy-- I'd seen way more couples--married and not married-- whose differences had been big or small, who had once seemed completely into each other, and who were too selfish and too into themselves to make it. Myself included.

That was what my dad had warned me about.

It felt really negative and I am not a negative person. I don't harbor ill feelings, I don't gossip, and I don't like negativity. I firmly believe if you can't say something nice, don't say anything.

But right now, the glaring facts were in my face, and I couldn't think of anything really nice to say about myself. I had a track record, of basically, one hundred percent failure when it came to relationships. Although in my defense, it wasn't all me. Fights and selfishness accounted for a good portion, but infidelity on both our parts, and some bad choices on both our parts--drugs and stealing and in one case, she killed my dog-- yeah, there was just cause if I ever saw it.

"You're so quiet." She finally said, having dropped her hands from my cheeks, and turned to stand beside me looking out over the lake sparkling in the morning sun.

"Just thinking."

"Hope I didn't get too religious on you." She had that tone of defensiveness that wasn't completely unwarranted. She needed reassurance and I gave it willingly. I put my arm around her shoulders and kind of side hugged her like a sister, and as soon as I thought that, I realized I didn't want her to be my sister. I hugged her to me, and kissed her cheek. I wasn't ready to kiss those waiting lips, though-- not with all the processing I was doing. Either she would understand or she wouldn't. Either she was willing to put forth that effort to get me-- or we were wasting our time.

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