Vanessa

Luckily for us, both boys were truly wiped-out; both Vanessa and I were too wrapped-up in each other by that point to really be giving much thought to the possibility of them waking, though we were still aware enough to make sure we weren't too vocal. It was that day that I discovered just how erotic a whispered sexual encounter can be…if silence is necessary.

Okay, so not all our lovemaking was of that particular caliber, but even so, it was something we both strove to make wonderful whenever we had the opportunity to make it happen. Months went by, and our relationship continued to grow and to deepen. It was about seven months after I had begun dating Vanessa that my world began to change. I had been at work, while she had taken a day off to spend with the boys getting their vaccinations for school, and we were catching up with each other when she hit me with a question from out of the blue.

"What would you think about getting married?" she asked.

I was, yet again, stunned. I hadn't seen anything like this coming, and am old-fashioned enough that I had always figured that I'd be doing the asking when the time came. But I loved her, and am comfortable enough in my manhood that being the one proposed to wasn't emasculating to me. So I gave it some serious (if slightly quick) thought.

"I'd love to marry you," I replied, "but I don't think that over the phone is a very romantic way to propose to someone."

There was silence; I was certain that she thought I was criticizing her, though that was the farthest thing from my mind.

"If you'll allow me," I quickly continued, "I would love to be able to ask you – and ask you as romantically as I can – the very next time we go out."

Her joyous gasp told me I had gotten this right, and that was important – I only planned on doing this once, after all! True to my word, I made sure our next date night was every bit as romantic as I could make it, and when I dropped to one knee, it was all either of us could do to keep from crying our eyes out. The one concession I made with regard to the proposal involved Vanessa's engagement ring. From the very start, she had expressed very particular choices when it came to both her engagement and her wedding rings.

"I did it the traditional way once before," she explained, "and I swore, when it ended, that if I were to do it again I'd get exactly the rings I loved, because they were going to be a symbol of the man I love."

…who can argue with that? I certainly couldn't.

Well, instead of placing a ring on her finger, I took her to a jeweler I had known since shortly after coming to the valley. We waded through his selection of engagement and wedding rings, and settled on a custom-designed pair for her which (I have to admit) were downright stunning. With measurements made, my friend promised to quickly begin work on her engagement ring, so that she could wear it proudly just as soon as possible. I, on the other hand, wanted a rather simple gold and platinum band; it was a wonderful design, with the two metals seeming to cross over each other, yet still flow as one solid band around my finger.

So with that, our wedding preparations began in earnest. Rings? Ordered and paid for. Reception hall? Booked, deposit paid. Caterer? We were still sorting through three very strong candidates, though I had my preference (but hey, it was her big day – I was wise enough to keep my own counsel on that matter). Our wedding was going to be held outdoors, and I had managed to make use of my membership in the Frank Lloyd Wright conservancy to book his world-renowned house, Taliesin West, for the actual ceremony…the conservancy was able to approve this due to the small number of guests and the nature of the wedding (it being an outdoor service, after all).

As we were progressing with our plans, I was slowly but surely moving my things from my condo to Vanessa's house. It was not my intention to disrupt the lives of Mark and Sam any more than I possibly had to, and between the greater room there and the fact that they would be in an entirely different school district if we moved to my area, it just made no sense for me to hang onto that condo. My clothing was the first to arrive at Vanessa's, with small appliances and other items slowly migrating there as time went by. As for my furniture, I fully intended to sell off anything that she and I didn't want (or have a use for).

I've thought about this for longer than I can even describe, and even now I can't find any clues I may have missed that my world was about to be turned upside-down. Vanessa and I were as close (romantic and emotionally) as we ever were, the kids were becoming more excited by the day to the upcoming addition of myself to their family, and our plans kept moving forward, item by item. So it was quite a shock to receive a call from Vanessa as I was packing items at my condo one evening. She was in my parking lot, she explained, and needed to talk to me. I invited her to come up, but she instead told me that she had the kids in the car, and would rather I met her in the parking lot instead. To this day, that conversation haunts me.

"I've got a problem," she began. "It involves Lane."

Lane, I knew, was the guy she had dated before me. I hadn't really asked much about him, as I believed at the time (and still do, in fact) that the people we were with prior to our current significant others are only important in that they helped to make each of us the people we are at that point in time. In other words, if she didn't want to tell me about him, I wasn't dying to know. Vanessa, however, went on to explain that she had discovered that she possessed some unresolved feelings for him, and that it was tearing her up inside that she loved me, but had these feelings for him at the same time.

Whatever you may think of me, I'm a typical guy in one very clear respect: I hate seeing women cry when I have the power to make things better (and, therefore, get them to stop crying). It wasn't even a hard decision for me to make, really. Vanessa was wanting time to resolve her conflicted feelings, and I was going to make sure she had the time she needed. All I asked was that we keep in contact; my life at that point was one which contained her, and I just couldn't see myself cutting her out of it unnecessarily. We both made our promises of love to each other, hugged, and left with her giving me an eerily-chaste kiss before she once again climbed into her car.

Work for the next two weeks was difficult to say the least. I'd see Vanessa virtually every day, but there was this newfound barrier between us. Our conversations were no longer the free-roaming exploration of topics and ideas that we'd enjoyed. Gone too were our lunches, or our afternoon meetings to just take in the sun and unwind for a few minutes before going back to our days. Perhaps hardest of all, our nightly conversations were growing shorter and shorter. It wasn't hard for my mind to tell me I was losing her, but my rational self kept repeating that all she needed was time, and that our love was strong enough to hold us and comfort us both during this difficult time.

It was a Saturday afternoon when everything fell apart. I hadn't heard from Vanessa for the previous two days, and my calls to her cell phone were sent directly to voice mail. I was puttering around the condo, doing my utmost to keep from going stir-crazy or, worse yet, of letting my worries send me places I didn't want to go. So the ring of my cell phone was a welcome surprise; I didn't even check the caller ID, but instead flipped it open and gave a happy, "hello!"

"Hi, Rob," came the voice of Vanessa's sister. "I hate to be the one who has to tell you this, but you really need to know, and my idiot sister sure isn't going to tell you anytime soon," she blurted out.

This did not sound like good news, and I said as much to her. What came next just proved that my previous words were enough to qualify me as a true Master of Understatement.

"Vanessa invited me to Las Vegas for the weekend," April explained, "and we left on Friday evening. What my sister neglected to tell me was that Lane was meeting us there, and that the two of them had planned on getting married while they were up there."

I was numb. Time had stopped, or perhaps it was just my heart; either way, I didn't seem to care which one it was. All I knew was that my world, the one I had grown to love and to look forward to experiencing for the rest of my life, had suddenly been torn away from me. For a state that has 300+ days of sun each year, it suddenly seemed as if thunderheads had rolled in, and that the surrounding land was now cold and grey.

It was with a numb body and a chilled heart that I listened as April filled me in on the back-story between Vanessa and Lane. Evidently, what my darling fiancée had neglected to mention was that Lane hadn't simply been the boyfriend before me; he had proposed three times…and each time had backed out once the planning got serious. It seemed, from everything April had been able to piece together, that Vanessa had genuinely pursued me, but when Lane showed jealousy over her new love life, she realized that this could be used to her advantage. I know it was cynical, but a rather large part of me suddenly agreed that this explained her rather unorthodox proposal to me (and by phone, no less), and how quickly we'd come to the majority of our arrangements. I was also advised that, when April had realized what Vanessa and Lane had done, she had abandoned the two of them and was even at that moment driving back to Tucson. Lastly, April confided that, upon hearing about this disturbing chain of events, even "Mom" had washed her hands of her wayward daughter. Vanessa was well and truly on her own with Lane.

April and I exchanged meaningless words for a few more minutes, before I finally begged-off and ended the conversation. I guess it was both a blessing and a curse that there was a sports bar across the street from my condo complex. It was certainly a blessing as I didn't have to drive anywhere to get absolutely, positively shit-faced drunk; but it was a curse because the way I felt the next morning did not do a single thing to help take my mind off the problems I had – in fact, the hangover only added to the pain of the whole thing. So I decided not to repeat that particular "remedy" any time soon.

That Monday at work was a living Hell, I tell you. By that time, Vanessa knew that her sister had spilled the beans, and that a confrontation with me was something that was pretty much unavoidable. So when I asked her to meet me for 15 minutes at the start of our lunch break, she agreed. For my part, our meeting was everything that you'd expect to hear.

"Why?" I asked. "Why go through all this, the engagement, the planning and, most importantly, my falling in love with you?" I honestly was looking for answers; I desperately needed to know just where things went so wrong. Was I that poor a judge of character? Was I a gullible fool? Was this something beyond either of our control, where Lane played on his previous relationship with Vanessa? I had to know. However, I was destined to be in the dark, it seemed.

"I got what I wanted," was all she had to say, a snide smirk upon her face. There were no answers forthcoming from her, no explanation that would shed light on any aspect of this. All I had was her callous statement, and that was enough for me to decide what to do next.

"Well, I guess we just have to resolve the final details, then" I replied, breaking the silence which had descended with her pronouncement. "After all, there's the matter of an engagement ring that has to be returned, deposits that I need to be reimbursed for, and my possessions to retrieve. I guess it's a lucky thing I hadn't put the condo on the market yet."

This, evidently, was not something which Vanessa had planned for. I don't know what she was thinking, but the remainder of our time together that afternoon was spent with me explaining how, if she did not return the ring I had given her, reimburse me for the deposits I had laid out, and ensure that my property was returned to me undamaged, I would take the matter to court. Laying out my case to her, I made sure to explain that, with the right judge and jury, I might even be able to make a strong case that the entire engagement was nothing more than fraud, since she had done this for the sole purpose of at long last getting Lane to commit to her. Our agreement was hammered-out then and there, and the next night I had the ring, the boxes full of my possessions, and a check (from Lane, of course) for the entire amount of the deposits I had shelled out over the previous weeks and months.

The one thing I didn't expect – though why, in retrospect, I cannot honestly say – was a brief letter from Vanessa that had been included with the boxes of my items. In her flowing script, she went to great pains to tell me just how mean and selfish I was, and that my actions had spoiled her happiness at a time which should be the most joyous of her life. She continued on to say that she doubted she'd ever forgive me for being so cruel to her, and that threatening to sue her – or worse yet, to have her prosecuted – was the absolute lowest thing she could ever have experienced. Lastly, she wrote that she and Lane had decided to start anew, and were going to move to Utah shortly, as he had previously sold the businesses he owned in the valley and had planned on moving there before their trip to Las Vegas.

I snapped. I'll admit it, I went off the deep end…for all of 30 seconds. That was about how long it took for me to realize that she really didn't have a clue; that her life was such a sad, shallow place that my getting angry would at best be misconstrued, and at worst be unrecognized completely. So I decided instead to fight her vitriol with the milk of human kindness – that always seems to be the best way to really get under the skin of those who offend us the most. First, I kept my ears open at work to learn if her statement was true; there was still no way I was going to go out on a limb where my career was concerned. Once I had verified that Vanessa was indeed leaving the company, I very carefully crafted my own letter to her. Each and every word was chosen with care, as well as with an eye toward passing muster if it should somehow make its way to our Human Resources department.

Vanessa,

I realize you are leaving the company, as well as the state, to start your life anew. With that in mind, I had a few things I wished to share with you so that we – you and I – can put our time together to a clean and (I hope) definite close.

First, let me just say that I looked forward to being able to share my life with you, Mark and Sam, that your mother was every bit as loved by me as my own, and that your sister was someone I even now think of with fondness. They are, each and every one of them, special, and I hope that you'll show them that daily, and that perhaps, just perhaps, a tiny portion of that will be considered to be from me. I know, or at least the rational part of my mind knows, that any pain I feel will pass with time, and I wish that any pain they feel as well will fade quickly.

Lastly, I just wish to make an observation that has been with me for years. What I've seen, in my own parents' marriage as well as in other long-term couples, is that passion eventually fades, but it's the contentment that a deep and abiding love and commitment bring with them that carries a relationship through those rough periods. So I won't wish you happiness, as you've told me you're happy. Instead, I will wish that you find the contentment that will help you and Lane sustain your marriage and your commitment to each other.

These are my last words on this matter,

Rob

Since she had seen fit to leave her letter to me tucked into my belongings, I decided to return the favor, leaving my reply under her windshield wiper while she was at work. At that point, I really had no desire to see her face-to-face any longer, or rather, I had an aching need to see her, but the realization that seeing her would only bring more pain kept winning out over my need. The next day, which happened to be her final day at my company, I found her reply. It was left under my windshield wiper, just as my own reply had been for her.

"You bastard," was all it said.

It really was all I needed to put paid to this entire fiasco, and I went all-out to distance myself from that previous part of my life. A new phone number, a new condo, and a change in my work schedule all helped – I wasn't seeing her friends at work any longer, thanks to the different hours, I didn't have to deal with all the memories that Vanessa, her children and I had made at my old place, and with the new number, I didn't have to worry about hearing from her mother or sister. I still cared for the two of them, but I also realized that if I were to keep in touch, invariably I'd wind up hearing about Vanessa…and that this was one particular wound that I had to let scab over completely.

For a city of 2 million people, Phoenix can be a mighty small place. From time to time, I'd run into "Mom" and, sure enough, I'd get some info whether I wanted it or not. Oh, it wasn't as if she was giving me chapter and verse about her oldest daughter; instead, it was her attempts to commiserate with me that caused the difficulty. The first time we bumped into each other, she went on and on about how disappointed she was in her daughter, and how she'd pretty much disowned her once she found out about what she had done. The gesture was a good one, but I found myself flooded with all the memories of our time together none the less. I think it was April that finally convinced her mother that, contrary to showing solidarity, this could have the opposite effect and leave me feeling worse. Whatever the reason, after a few instances of bumping into each other, the random meetings ceased and I began the long, difficult process of picking up the pieces and moving on with my life.

Epilogue:

It was about seven months after I had received Vanessa's final reply on my windshield, and I was making my way from the cool, dark environs of work into the warm sunny day that met me after my shift had ended. Settling my sunglasses on my face, I was surprised to hear my name being called. Glancing right and left, I at last saw "Mom" standing perhaps 45 feet away from me, waving in my direction. Oddly, for the first time I truly noticed that the memories weren't flooding back. I wasn't suddenly feeling the loss and the pain, though I still had a void which I had yet to try filling with dating once again. So it was not all that difficult to alter my path to intersect where she stood waiting.

Evidently, "Mom" wasn't there by accident. I discovered this after the standard pleasantries were exchanged ("you're looking well" and all that) and I asked, "So what brings you to this particular neck of the woods?"

"Mom" looked relieved I had asked, and that, I decided, did not bode well for me. Sure enough, she went on to tell me that while she had all but disowned Vanessa upon hearing of what had happened between the two of us, it had been harder than she had realized when her eldest daughter had taken her kids (and "Mom's" only grandkids) and moved to Utah. However, "Mom" went on to explain, that move had been short-lived; after only six months as husband and wife, Vanessa and Lane had decided to go their separate ways and she had moved back to Arizona with her kids.

"You know, Rob," the woman I thought of as a second "Mom" said to me, "I'm sure if you were to stop by my house some night for dinner, that the two of you could talk a bit. You were the best thing that ever happened to her, and she realizes that now."