I creepup to the door and peek through the crack. When Etna doesn’t move, I push it open a little further. He’s fast asleep. This man can sleep at the drop of a hat unless we’re on a plane. We went for a run earlier and he almost always wants to nap after.
It’s been a tense couple of days since he got hit on the ice. Tense for me. It’s not that I don’t believe he’s pain free and feels fine now. I do. I don’t think he’d lie to me about anything, but not about that, especially.
Hockey is hard on the body. We all know that. We know there’s a chance we’ll have knee and hip problems, back and shoulder problems for the rest of our lives, beginning at a young age. That’s the risk we take playing a full-contact sport like hockey.
We also know we risk further injury by lying about being hurt. It doesn’t matter what sport you play. No one wants their career to end because of an injury. That’s why we’re probably the healthiest people in the country. We pay a lot of attention to our bodies.
Still. I keep seeing him sitting on the bench in pain and not being able to do anything about it. I’m careful with how close I get to Etna during hockey related anything while simultaneouslytrying not to be obvious that I’m keeping distance between us. The team’s been really good about our relationship. No one’s said anything mean. But we’re trying to make sure we’re respectful of any PDA at all.
Which is a fine line because I think we touched a lot morebeforewe got together.
I take a breath and back out of the room, shutting the door behind me. It clicks quietly and I shove open the second bedroom door where there are totes of bedding and pillows and accessories we didn’t load into the moving containers yet.
Our days in this house, on this lake, are running out. I keep thinking about all the memories we’ve made here, and I don’t want them to end yet. I’m not that great at thinking of sweet things to do. How do you make meaningful memories? By all accounts, this is our first house together.
Maybe Etna’s is too, but we spent most of our time here. The things we bought together were for this house. Thisisour first house, even if both our names aren’t on the title.
Our boat will be loaded on the day of our closing, which is scheduled for a couple weeks from now. Inconveniently, right before we head to our three away-game streak. Conveniently, Edna will be here to oversee moving, reception of furniture, and house decorating. She also gets what she wants this way—we’ll be out of the house for a few days.
Making as little noise as I can, I bring the totes of blankets and pillows out back and dump them onto the pontoon boat. I add more and more until the end of the boat is as cushy as a bed. I add the cooler of ice with drinks and, of course, some lube and a condom. We’ve yet to use a condom, but I think having one available is a safety net. We keep them around just in case we want to try it out one day.
Once I put the totes back in the spare bedroom like nothing happened, I make a few sandwiches and put some snacks in abag in the fridge to grab when my man wakes up from his nap. Then I drop onto my chair and pick up my tablet.
We’ve decided to write our own vows. Which means I’ve been researching vows. Not to copy what other people have written but to get an idea of what people are vowing. In front of other people. One of my favorites is one of the old Celtic vows that is far more progressive than the world we live in today. In a very poetic way, it says ‘I am not your possession, and you cannot command me, I give myself to you freely while we both wish it.’ But even better is the first line of the next verse—‘I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night.’ Right there. In their wedding vows that they repeat in front of everyone.
I may have made a note.
While I scroll, I see an ad for wedding gifts for groomsmen and click on it. I scroll a while there, not seeing anything exciting and new. Everything is a little clichéd and expected. I don’t need to be original, but I don’t want to give a gift just for the sake of giving a gift.
Another ad catches my attention, and I’m led further off course down a rabbit hole of first looks. You know, when the groom sees the bride all alone in a surprise first reveal of her in her wedding dress without the big audience? We can’t do that since we’ve both seen each other’s suits. Which is fine.
Then the research changes and I’m looking at guys surprising the grooms in wedding dresses as a joke before the bride does. That’s when I get an idea and start searching for second-hand wedding dresses.
“Hey.”
I jump when Etna steps into the room. His hair is standing every which way, making me grin. He rarely lets it get this long, and I have to say, I’m totally digging it. “Hey.”
“What’re you up to?”
I tap the button on my tablet a couple times as he comes closer so that my screen pulls up the other browser. The one where I’m searching for honeymoon destinations. Etna sits on the edge of the chair and leans over me.
“Find anything good?”
“So many things,” I say. “So many places! I just don’t know which to choose.”
“Weren’t we going to talk to a travel agent?” Etna asks, yawning.
“We were. We will. But I feel like we should have the basic choices made, right? Like hot or cold? Foreign or domestic? Tropical or forest or desert? We don’t even have those questions answered.”
He sighs.
I click off my tablet and push him to his feet. “Come on. I have something for you.”
Etna gives me a half smile. A smile that I’ve only seen in recent months. It makes my stomach flip dangerously. It’s so damn cute.
Stopping in the kitchen, I pull the bag of food from the fridge then take his hand to lead him out back. I have the key to the slider door in my pocket and lock it behind us. We’re working our way out of winter, so though it’s only six o’clock, the sun is well on its way down. The sky is a pretty mix of watercolor blues that bleed together.
“You want a waterbed, huh?” Etna asks, grinning.
