By Donald Delver
December found me on leave from Germany, visiting my hometown of Cincinnati. A longtime friend had invited me to a Christmas party at her home, a beautiful two-story brick house built in the 1880s. I greeted my friend and her husband, put my bottle on the drinks table, and hung up my coat. Everyone was gathered in the large parlor, either near the fireplace or the huge live spruce.
I knew no one at the party, apart from my friend and her husband, and after an hour or so of drinking alone and feeling less and less Christmassy, I met a young woman at the drinks table. She had seen me from across the room, she told me later, and had admired my broad shoulders in the white turtleneck sweater I was wearing. What had intrigued her, she said, was the bottle of clear liquid I was mixing into my drinks. The label was in Spanish, and she wondered if it might have been a rare vodka I had brought along or something more exotic. I was struck by her waist-length, straight brown hair, her pleasant smile, and how she effortlessly started the conversation.
“I flew home standby on military planes,” I told her. “We stopped overnight in Texas, and I bought this alcohol puro in Mexico. Here it’s called White Dog or White Lightning, and among soldiers it’s well known that a man who drinks too much of it will likely wake up the next morning in a stranger’s yard wearing only an ill-fitting negligee and combat boots.”
She laughed and stepped closer.
“What do you do over in Germany?”
“I’m an instructor at the Military Police Academy in Mannheim.”
We wound up sitting together in a quiet corner of another room downstairs, talking about this and that. She would lean forward when I said something, and her eyes didn’t glaze over as some of my friends’ did when I rambled on too long. At one point, I leaned forward when she did, and we kissed. It felt right, and we kissed again. Somewhere between the second and third kiss, she moved to my lap, and we made out like two love-starved teenagers. I had consumed enough liquid courage by then to invite her to go upstairs to find an unoccupied bedroom. She turned me down, but I called her the next day, and we went out to dinner. At the end of our third date, she invited me to her place, and we spent the night delighting in each other’s bodies.
We laughed easily and often. When I went back to Germany, we wrote long letters to each other. I began missing her more and more, and after about six months, I invited her to fly over and visit me. I was surprised and pleased when she agreed. We traveled around Germany together, picking our way through the ruins of German castles, admiring the sylvan beauty of the Black Forest, and sampling German foods paired with sweet white wines that danced deliciously on the tongue. We made joyous love in quaint German guesthouses.
Not long after she returned to Cincinnati, I received orders for training stateside. I made a long- distance call.
“Barbara, it’s so good to hear your voice.”
“David, I’ve missed you so much.”
“Listen. I’ll be home for a few days before I have to start training at Fort McClellan. I don’t want to go there without you. Will you come with me?”
She needed a few days to consider it, but by the time I returned, she was all packed and ready to go.
We lived together for a month, and when my training was complete, and I received orders for California, we got married. The Presidio of San Francisco was a tiny gem of a military base, but Barbara never liked being an Army wife. She found work in the metals industry, and after my enlistment was up, I found work in retail security. We made friends, lived frugally in a small apartment, and worked hard, trying to get ahead.
The laughter still came easily, at first, and with the long hours came promotions and greater responsibility. We still talked about our shared dreams, we still made love, but less often, and we still found delight in each other’s company, but as the years passed, the pressures at work grew with each promotion. The hours spent working increased along with the new titles. One of us was often too tired to cook dinner, so we got takeout. We were too tired to talk about our day, so we watched a little more TV. We were too tired to make love, so we just slept.
Towards the end, we owned a nice home, nice cars, and nice furniture. But we had put far more effort into achieving success at work than we had put into maintaining a successful marriage. We had grown apart. Counseling did not bridge the emotional gap we had created between ourselves. After twelve years together, divorce sent us in different directions.
I wish our marriage license had come with a warning: Work as hard on your marriage as you work on anything else. And, to always leave room for delight.
Sad but probably all too common. Bittersweet ending, good lesson to remember.
Thank you for your comment.
What a range of emotions from beginning to end. I could feel the delight in discovery of each other through to the sadness of allowing the world to take on more importance than the love. Very well written.
I appreciate your comments.
Excellent and concise short story. I think many of us might ask, how did he know all those intimate details of my life?
I expect the answer might be that the story is, sadly, all too common among hardworking couples.
With nearly a 50% divorce rate, couples grow apart. Hopefully the character gets another shot at happiness.
Thanks for your comment, Richard. There is always hope.
your story personalizes and so perfectly describes so many exciting and wonderful marriages that just didn’t know better….and your last line captures it well in a few words.
Thank you, Louise. It would seem this story is more common than many people realize.
We’ll write. Piece of too realistic prose of marital
Decline. I have seen it so very
Often in pastoral care of parishioners and friends.
Thanks, Lance. And it is spelled “well wrotted.” 🙂
I loved your story. A lesson learned too late.
Thanks, Trisha. That is so true.
Well written cautionary tale. I finished reading wanting them both to have a second chance together. Work sucks.
Second chances happen sometimes, Steve. The goddess of do overs does take requests.
A very well written story accounting how easy it is to be caught up in every day life and how it leads to being neglectful of the things that are important to the heart. As it was in this instance, a lot of times we don’t realize what we’ve done until the damage is irreversible.
Thank you, Kendra. I appreciate your insights. Very well said.
Sorry, I meant to say thank you, Kendra.
Not sure what happened.
Almost universal. We often don’t get much choice. When I had an 80 mile each way commute, my wife Betsy wanted to talk when I got home, but I was so depleted I couldn’t manage it. Someone then told me that couples spent on average seven minutes talking.
The story is well paced. Not long enough for anything like an extramarital affair.
Thanks so much for your comments and your insights, Bill. So much can go wrong in any marriage that it takes hard work to keep it on track.
Well done, my friend , and so true
Jim, thanks for reading the story and thanks for your kind words. Marriage requires work.
Very nice, Don. It could be in a manual as a cautionary tale of what most marriages face, sooner or later. You’re a writer…and a therapist.
Well done.
Thank you, Steve. Your kind words mean a lot. Every marriage requires a lot of effort to be successful.
A beautiful simple story of love and resignation. Love the concept of short fiction.
So glad you liked it, Belinda. I am fairly new to the genre, but I am enjoying learning about it.
A sad reality for those who’ve had relationships while serving, and for those of us who have careers elsewhere. A wide range of emotions to this. The old adage applies; “Leave time for delight”, is true.
Your sagacity shines through, Tim.
Well written story of a beautiful love well lived and tragically lost. I felt all the ‘feels”. Sage advice at the end.
Thank you for your comments, Lauren. I appreciate your thoughtful words.
At first I wasn’t quite sure if the story was fiction{smile}, but was later convinced. The advice at the end about the work required for a successful marriage.was stellar
Thanks, Reg. The work is fiction, but has elements of things I have learned from others over the years.
Beautifully created, Donald, Kudos for your kindness to marriage, to good intentions, to understanding that pain heals into wisdom and to knowing a good life goes on.
So glad you could make the party!
Thanks, Carolyn. I so appreciate your kind words and your wisdom.
An all too common human trait is to take things for granted. We also do not realize how much work relationships require if they are to last.
Spot on, Ed. I appreciate your observations.
Thanks Don for the story. It is short, but wise and instructive. To be honest, I’m not at all sure what other people’s wisdom teaches. History says otherwise. But I wanted to say not about education, but about literature. I liked how the plot developed and how the rhythm of the text changed. The middle, with a lot of emotional adjectives and verbs, suddenly became dry and soulless.
And after the dot. Like a closed door.
Thank you for you kind words, Tanya, and for your insights. I expect the world can seem dry and soulless when love is lost and two people end what had been a loving relationship.
This piece does a good job of showing both that “new relationship” excitement and that point in a relationship where you aren’t unhappy, but you are “too damn tired” to put in the energy. It’s relatable.
Thank you, Carolyn. I appreciate your insights.
It’s so true. If only the same amount of effort was put into a relationship, maybe more marriages would last. I love the story Mr. Delver. You’re such a great writer.
Thank you for your kind words, Jasmin.