The Summer by the Sea

I still remember his bright blue eyes. His tousled blonde hair. His incredible physique. We had plunged into the Adriatic Sea together during our vacation to Italy. It had been our honeymoon.

“Rose! Come in!” He had urged me, taking a dip in the water at sunset, the rainbow colors illuminating the sky, my dream man standing in the water, a grin spreading across his face, getting wider and wider.

“I can’t!” I replied, secretly hoping he’d egg me on, “It’s too cold in there!”

He ran out of the sea and came up behind me, wrapping his arms around my stomach. My Darrien lifted me up, as though I was as light as a feather, and carried me into the sea. He very gently dropped me into the water as I shrieked with the shock my body felt from the plunge.

“How dare you?!” I said, pretending to be more upset than I was and splashing him.

We both collapsed into laughter.

That night we went to dinner at a five-star restaurant—shamefully, I’ve forgotten the name—and had overpriced pasta made from scratch. I got three pieces of Ravioli and so did he. Those three pieces were to-die-for. To make up for the lack of quantity (and to enjoy fine Italian alcohol) we washed our dinner down with Prosecco. We each treated ourselves to generous pours.

Then we went back to our hotel, both feeling a bit too tipsy.

“I’m so glad I married you, Rose! Honestly, a prettier flower I have never seen,” He teased, intoxicated but charming, as was his way.

I giggled and responded I was glad I married him too. We lie there, in that bed, for hours. The sunset outside the window turned from various hues in the sky to black and we stayed awake. The clock struck twelve and we stayed awake. The sun rose over the horizon, and we were immersed in deep conversation over whether Hozier was better than Mumford and Sons. I said Hozier and stuck to it. He did the same with Mumford and Sons. The argument was good-natured, though both of us were adamant about our views.

Darrien held me in his arms and kissed me on the cheek.

“So, what should we do today?”

I sighed, “I’m not sure. Maybe we can go for another swim or have some more overpriced pasta while we can. Our trip is almost over.”

Suddenly, his phone rang. His mom, Miranda from Tennessee, was ringing him. She had never liked me much, though I’d tried to tolerate her because I loved Darrien more than words could say.

Darrien picked up, ever diligent about ensuring communications were smooth. He whispered an apology to me as she spoke on the other end of the phone.

“I’m good, Mom. We’re enjoying Italy. The honeymoon’s going great. We’re actually staying in a hotel right by the Adriatic Sea. We even had overpriced pasta to boot!”

He put her on speaker, smiling and urging me to say hi. I grimaced internally but did my part, putting on a good face.

“Hi, Miranda,” I nearly shouted, performing pleasure to hear her grating voice to the best of my ability.

“Hi, dear. I’m glad you’re enjoying your trip. Darrien, when are you returning home?”

“We’ll be leaving the day after tomorrow, then I’ll see you in a week or so. Rose might come to, if she’s up to it.”

He gave me an eager grin, clearly unaware of my tense relationship with my mother-in-law.

“I just want you to know I love you and I’ll be back soon.”

“I love you too, Darrien. Goodbye, Rose.”

“Bye,” I nearly shouted again.

The last day was incredible. Me and Darrien watched the sun set over the sea while drinking Prosecco, cheering to our honeymoon, consummated our marriage on the last evening in the hotel, gently, respectfully, and carefully, and kissed once more to seal our vows to one another before we left this beautiful country.

The next day, it was time to board the plane and head back home to Texas. The summer heat pounded on us as we landed and exited. Darrien carried my bag for me since I was exhausted after very little sleep thanks to all of the fun we had had together. We moved into our new house in Austin thanks to my lovely husband’s new job: accountant. I was thrilled he was able to actually make that happen for us. It was beyond believable, and yet here we were.

The days turned into weeks, the weeks turned into months, the months turned into years and, before I knew it my stomach grew rounder and I started feeling nauseous. When Darrien inquired after seeing my throw up in the bathroom toilet, I confessed I was pregnant.

He was overcome with joy, a big smile spreading across his face, his arms outstretched to hug me.

“Rose! That is so wonderful! I cannot believe it. We will be having our first child together!”

“Thank you,” I replied, distracted by the nausea but delighted to be starting a family with my wonderful husband.

“I love you,” I whispered.

“I love you too,” He replied, “This is what I’ve always wanted. One child we can spoil forever and ever. I’ll start buying stuff for the nursery tomorrow!”

I couldn’t help but be touched that my dear man was in such a hurry. Though I dreaded my mother-in-law visiting, I thought it was a price I was willing to pay to experience such a blissful existence.

Eventually, Miranda lightened up with me, though she visited less and less frequently and was primarily concerned with our little boy Jonathen after I gave birth whenever she did.

We loved Jonathen with all of our hearts. Things were good. They became fine. The initial spark of love at first sight began to dim, though we still loved each other, just in a simpler, more mundane manner. We remained married. We were happy enough.

Secretly though, I craved another summer in Italy by the Adriatic Sea, making love to Darrien or talking to him until the sun rose, with nothing to worry about except each other.