The Kiss, So Alcoholic and Slow - "The Landing"

IVY
“The Landing”

Breathless. Shaking my head, tears uncontrolled, flailing my hands I didn’t know what to say. The slight inviting part in his lips, his eyebrow raised, confidence in the strength of his shoulders cocked back all powerful and – sexy, he waited for my answer. I paused. I paused long enough to see a flash; a raw and vulnerable flash of a moment he held in his eyes just behind the pure and generous love he had for me. I settled my hands, sat on them in fact, to pull in my breath and say “Yes.” Quietly, peacefully, I gave him my yes. He gently, with steady strong hands, slid my hand by my wrist from under my ass and slipped the perfectly sized four carat diamond ring on the ring finger of my left hand. I thought to myself “DAMN that’s a big ring!” then I smiled and we kissed. And I mentally drifted into a space so magical and inviting with pink and crimson roses floating all around me. Multi-colored starbursts shot through my mind. Eyes shut, my Dior lengthened lashes must’ve fluttered as I disappeared into a wistful daydream. Then from somewhere out of nowhere came this word; it escaped me – breathless as it came out – silencing the chimes that had just begun to whistle in my ear. The rose pedals froze and the starbursts lost their color and flat lined as I opened my eyes. Justin with a furrowed brow asked “What?” And I said “What?” And he said “What did you say?”

And I paused. Nervously, “Well what did I say?”

His eyes narrowed. “Rome. You said Rome.”

I laughed. Drawing my diamond show-n-tell piece close to my heart I laughed, waving him off with my other less impressive hand. “I’ve always wanted to go there on my honeymoon. Ya know Rome … Italian food. … the ruins.” Suddenly the confusion drained from Justin’s face replaced by the love that was there mere seconds ago. He drew me in close, wrapped me in the safety of his arms and rattled on about all the joy he saw for our future. I listened intently, rubbing my fingers along my lips wanting to pop myself really hard for uttering the one word, the one name I’d managed for two years to avoid saying around him. But there it came like an ugly case of the Turrets at the most inappropriate moment. It was then I realized I’d landed in some shit. If I wanted to marry Justin I might have to go back to Rome and figure out what tie there was that still connected me so I could snip it, shred it, and flush it down the toilet. I didn’t want the past, the painful I-can’t-run-from-it-fast-enough past to hold me hostage from the gorgeous committed love I could have with Justin. Just how to do it? Under what pretense could I get away and deal with my skeleton?