Brian’s View
I turned off the TV and sat there in silence. Deciding that I was hungry, I reached for my wallet to take out a couple dollar bills to head down to the vending machine, and in the process of doing so, a folded up picture fell from the flap. I stared down at it momentarily, not moving to pick it up. I knew what it was, I just didn’t know if I wanted to look at it.
I sighed, reaching down and lightly picking it up from the hotel room floor. I set my wallet aside. I slowly began to unfold it. The sounds of crinkling photography paper filled my ears, and the glossy appearance made a slight glare from the overhead light. As I spread it out in my hands, my heart dropped. Her eyes were so incredibly beautiful.
The black and white photo was a close up shot of Angela’s face in our bed. She was lying on her right side, hugging a pillow to herself while simultaneously resting her head in the puffiness of it. Strays of hair fell in her face, and she peered out from over the pillow, a small smile on her face. Her bare left arm draped over the pillow, her hand resting just below her chin, softly gripping the soft white down comforter. Her wedding ring sparkled from the flash of the camera.
It was my favorite picture out of all the pictures I had ever taken. It captured what I loved about her. It caught who Angela was. Her small shy smile, her soft smirking sincere eyes… the grace and beauty of it always made my breath catch in my throat. I could stare at this picture for hours if I wanted to, and it would only get more beautiful and more meaningful. This is what I woke up to every morning, at least before everything had happened.
I remember the day I had captured this picture. It was a Saturday morning at around 8 o’clock. I had woken up before Angela, like I usually did. I’d normally get out of bed right away and hop in the shower, but that morning I stayed in bed. I remember lying on my side, staring at her sleeping peacefully. I had reached over to lightly stroke her cheek, loving the softness of her skin. I smiled to myself, realizing once more how lucky I was to have her. I had rolled over and grabbed my photography camera off the stand and rolled back over to face her. I set it down and leaned into her, lightly kissing her lips. She suddenly breathed in deeply and moaned a little bit. Her eyes had slowly opened and without moving, she looked at me.
“Hey,” she said softly, sleepily.
I once again stroked her cheek, leaning in to kiss her once more, “Mornin’ sweetheart.”
She glanced down at the camera resting between us and asked, “What’s that for?”
I looked to where she was glancing and then looked back up at her, “Thought I’d take a picture of you.”
“Now?” she asked. I nodded, smiling, without saying anything. She lightly smiled back and said, “Okay.”
“Yeah?” I asked. This was another great thing about Angela. She wasn’t a difficult woman. No matter how she looked or felt, she never denied me. She knew what taking these pictures to me meant and she knew that there would be no ill will out of it. She supported me in everything, always.
She nodded, “What do you want me to do?”
I gently picked up the camera, and without sitting up, brought it to my face. It was an awkward shot, but to get the picture I wanted, I needed to be lying down on my side facing her.
“Just stay as you are,” I said. I looked through the lens, twisting knobs, focusing in on her face. Before I took the picture, I lowered it slightly, and said, “Tell me you love me.”
“I love you.”
“Damn straight,” I said, and at that moment, I quickly raised the camera and took the picture. The smile on her face was priceless. The combination of light laughter and shyness only came off as confidence. It was innocent yet sexy. It was a picture I could publish if I wanted to. I wouldn’t though, because it was my own little guilty pleasure. It was something I didn’t want to share with the rest of the world, because I didn’t want to share her.
When I set the camera down, she quickly sprang forward, resting her upper body on top of mine, kissing me over and over playfully. Between kisses, I started laughing, and then she started laughing. I rolled us over so I was slightly on top of her. I stared down at her, moving her hair out of her face. We grinned at one another and slowly stopped chuckling. I looked intently at her for a few moments and then leaned in and gently kissed her. She kissed back, running her fingers in my hair. I pulled away from her and asked, “Are you happy?”
She looked a little taken aback by my question but nodded nonetheless, “Of course. Are you?”
Her fingers still swirled and it sent shivers down my spin. I smiled down at her, stroking her cheek with my thumb back and forth, “More happy than I’ve ever been.”
She quickly rose up and planted another kiss on my lips, “Good.”
I settled down next to her, propped up on one arm. She turned back to her side and propped herself up too. We didn’t say anything for a minute and then she bit her lip, “Can I ask you something?”
“Course love,” I said, grabbing her hand and squeezing it gently.
“You ever think of our future?”
I nodded, “All the time.”
“What do you see?”
I smiled and said, “Well, lets see. I see you…” I leaned in and kissed her, “I see us growing old in this house,” I kissed her again, “I see trips around the world,” I kissed her again, “And…” one more kiss, her giggles becoming louder, “I see kids.”
She smiled at me, raising my hand to her lips and gently kissing my fingers, “How many?”
“Hmm…“ I scrunched up my face as if I were thinking really hard. She laughed, “Tell me.”
I entwined my fingers with hers and smiled softly at her, “Three.”
“Yeah?” she asked, clearly happy. I nodded.
“Boys or girls?”
“Two girls and a boy,” I said. She couldn’t wipe the smile off her face.
“What are their names?”
I lightly shrugged, “What do you want them to be?”
She looked down at our entwined fingers and kind of mumbled, “I don’t know.”
I laughed, leaning in, “You little liar, I know you know what names you want.”
She giggled as I kissed her neck and then her hand. She shrugged once more, “I really like Christian.”
“For a boy?”
She nodded, “Yeah.”
“What about for a girl?”
She looked up at me and stated, “Isabelle.”
I smiled at her, “Isabelle… I like that.”
“Really?” she asked. I nodded, “Yeah, I do.”
She leaned in and kissed me again. She then cleared her throat slightly and continued, “So, do you want to start?”
“Start what?”
She looked at me and taking her hand from mine, she smacked my bare shoulder lightly, “You know what.”
“No, really what?”
“Oh, shut up Littrell,” she said, rolling onto her back. I laughed sitting up on my knees. I leaned over her and began tickling her midsection. She wriggled under my hands screaming and giggling.
“Start watching a movie? Start singing? Start reading a book?”
She screamed up at me to stop, but I continued.
“Start building our pool? Start looking for a new car?”
She was laughing so hard she could hardly breathe. I stopped and laughed down at her. She slowly regained her composure, and I lied back down, half on top of her once again. She looked up at me, still letting a few laughs out. She smacked my arm, “You’re a horrible, horrible man.”
I smiled and moved some hair out of her face.
“A mean, horri-“
“Lets do it,” I said. She stopped in mid-sentence and looked up at me.
“What?”
“Lets do it,” I said softly. She looked up at me, searching my face. I leaned in and softly kissed her. “Lets have a baby.”
A small smile started to form on her face and then it grew bigger, “Really?”
I laughed, “Really.”
She wrapped her arms around my neck and pulled me down on top of her. She kissed me hard, “When?”
I laughed at her, “When do you think woman?”
She started to giggle as I began tickling her slightly, “Stop!”
“No, no, don’t ever, ever say that,” I said as I grabbed the covers from around us and flipped them over our heads.
I sighed, looking down at the picture in my hands, clearly remembering that day and the feelings I had felt. We had stayed in bed that entire day, making love, talking, laughing. I wouldn’t have traded that day for anything in this world, and it was heartbreaking at the possibility of a moment like that to never happen again. We had both been so excited for what was to come. We were going to have a child. I knew that it was Angela’s dream to have a family and it was mine to give that to her. A child was what our already happy lives were missing.
The horrible thing is, though we didn’t know it, that day was the start of what might become our ruin.
But, when I had come home from work one night and she had given me the positive pregnancy test, I had thought my heart was going to jump through my chest. I had never been so excited about anything in my entire life. We had gone to the living room to talk afterwards and had fallen asleep together on the couch, and when I woke up, I had my hand resting gently on her stomach. I remember what a calming wonderful feeling that had been.
As her stomach grew over the months, I became more excited. It was finally sinking in that we were going to have an actual person to take care of, to teach, and to love. It wasn’t going to just be me and her anymore. Instead of two, there were going to be three. I had taken active part in getting the nursery ready. Instead of her wanting to buy things, it was her telling me that we needed to slow down, it was her telling me that we didn’t need certain things. I wanted so much to be a father, and a good one at that.
I had never seen Angela glow as much as she did as when she was pregnant. There was a glow about her that wouldn’t leave. She was gorgeous. I had always taken pictures of her and our lives together, but during those months, I had gone into picture overdrive. I can only imagine how annoyed she must have been at times, but Angela being Angela, she didn’t object. She let me take her picture whenever I felt the need, and that was quite often.
I grew sadder realizing that I didn’t have any of those pictures with me. It was probably for the best though. They would probably only deepen the wounds that already festered in my heart.
God, I missed her.
What sort of event could lead us down this path? How could God be so cruel? What was His purpose for allowing what he did? How can so much regret and guilt fester in just one person?
I keep telling myself that if I were there I could have done something. If I were there, that maybe it wouldn’t have happened. If I were there, maybe we’d still be happy. But I wasn’t.
I had been in Boston for a conference. It was a big opportunity for our firm and I wasn’t going to miss it. I didn’t have to go, I could have sent someone else trustworthy, but I didn’t want to risk it. Angela understood, she always did. So I went, and it was the worst decision of my life.
