I had spent a lot of time trying to relax. I had a myriad of emotions flowing through my body. Anger, regret, pain, jealousy, and sadness to name a few. But there was love, too.
I had loved Ann Marie Santos for nearly my whole life. I had loved her since I knew what love was. In middle school we were best friends. In high school we were boyfriend and girlfriend. In college we were lovers and when we graduated we were married.
I had known that I wanted to marry Ann Marie from our very first kiss. My mom and dad tried to get me to date other girls. They were very concerned that Ann Marie and I were too close at such a young age. I could see their point. But it didn't matter to me. I never felt like I had to hold back on or give up anything to be with Ann Marie. I suppose if I had we may have just drifted apart.
I had chosen the college I wanted to attend based solely on academics, it just happened to have the best options for Ann Marie as well. We had a lot of friends and interests that didn't involve each other. We spent plenty of time apart. But the best times were when we together. She was my very best friend and I married her.
Ann Marie was my exact opposite in many ways. She was outgoing, I was reserved. She was short, 5' 5" on her best day. I was tall, 6' 4" when my growth spurt stopped. She was emotional, I was calm. She had a large family, I was an only child. She was an athlete, and although I was always trim and in good shape, my interests were more academic. She was devoutly catholic. I believed in God, but I was skeptical of religion. I was reasonably good looking. She was very, very cute. I was no movie star and she was no model, but we were a good match.
I can't say exactly what caused our mutual attraction, only that it was real. When we were kids, she would gently tease me and I would pretend to know how a gentleman should act. I watched her games and she came to my debates. I was always so proud of her, no matter what activity she was in, and her smile always let me know she felt the same. We never made plans but would always find ourselves together. I never made her choose me over anything, and she never asked me to change a single personality trait, but we always ended up putting each other first.
And we could talk to each other. About anything. Dreams, fears, desires. We always shared everything. That is why it had been so shocking. That is why it had hurt so much. I wasn't sure that I believed in soul mates, but if I had, she would have been mine.
We were passionate and caring and considerate. It was far more than lust. When I asked her father for permission to marry his youngest daughter he treated me to a first class interrogation. He questioned everything about our relationship. I admit I panicked at first. I was bumbling through my answers, but then I saw Ann Marie, watching us talk on the porch, though the window. I knew at that moment I needed to answer honestly and forcefully. If I wanted her hand I was going to have to earn it.
I explained to him that even though she had touched my heart and aroused my passion, that I had decided to love her. I had made that choice. I convinced him I knew what that meant. Certainly for better, even for worse. No matter what. Whatever worse was.
Three short years later, worse had arrived and I had decided. I still loved her and I wanted her to be happy. Even if I wasn't. That is why I was sitting all alone, trying to keep my emotions in check.
She knew me well enough to know what my response would be. I am sure that she had considered that. Even mid-emotional frenzy she always knew how I would respond. This would be no different. In the past my predictability had been a source of strength for her. Now it would set her free. But how I treated her was entirely up to me.
She was late getting home from work. Again. Unfortunately, that had become the norm in our house during the past four months. It was that and her change in attitude that gave me my first clue. That she never smiled when she saw me hurt a lot, far more than finding out the details. It is devastating to see, with your own eyes, that the only one you love doesn't love you anymore.
She walked into the dining room quietly. I was lost in my own head but I still noticed her arrival.
"Hi, Annie."
"Hello, Gavin. Are you OK?"
"No, not really. Please, sit down for a minute, so I can tell you why."
I had rehearsed my speech and hoped I wouldn't have to deviate too far from my script. I wasn't sure I would make good decisions if forced and I wanted to do this right. I wanted to be brave and dignified in the face of the hardest challenge I would ever face...letting Ann Marie go.
"Annie, I love you with all my heart. I always have and I am certain I always will. I do not want to argue with you. I do not want to yell at you. I do not want to call you names or toss accusations at you. I want us to sit here and decide, together, what we need to do. OK?"
"Of course, Gavin. What are you talking about?"
Her eyes betrayed her attempt to hide her concern, however slight it may have been.
"Annie, the thing I want most in my life is for you to be happy. I don't know why. It has been the foremost thought in my mind from our very first kiss. Even though it hurts me to say, in ways you can't possibly imagine, I know you are not happy with me."
There were unshed tears in her eyes. It was oddly comforting to know that throwing me away made her at least a little bit sad.
"I am really not interested in going over any of the details. I am afraid knowing too much will only cause me pain and will keep me from being able to move on. I don't want you to think I am a coward, but if we could just agree that I do know, for certain, that you are not happy with me I would appreciate it very much. You do know what I am talking about right, Annie?"
She barely whispered her response, "Yes, Gavin. I know what you are talking about."
"Thank you, Annie. You not denying it does help me to believe that I am making the right choice. Annie, I want a divorce."
***
Miguel Santos had an internal strength that I had always admired. He and his wife, Maria, had raised four sons and four daughters in a small three bedroom house in a less than an ideal neighborhood. His 5' 9" frame was home to a physique born in the streets and hardened by manual labor, with the tattoos and scars to match. I am sure, pound for pound, he was one of the strongest men that I had ever met. That was impressive, too. But it was the loyalty and devotion with which he treated his wife and had raised his family that earned my respect. Because of that, I felt I owed him an explanation and a heads up regarding my decision.