My relationship with Denise had come to a crossroad. She had graduated with her B.S. in Psychology and been accepted to the graduate program she wanted, but the university was over 500 miles away from where I was attending medical school. We had started dating in college. I was a year older, had graduated a year before her, and had been able to attend medical school close to her. But she had accepted graduate enrollment at a university that was very far away. We had discussed it before she had accepted. It was an excellent program and it would have been foolish for her to pass it up. It was too important to her and her future to not accept it.
We had talked about our future in vague terms. We wanted to stay together. I had said that I could do my residency in the city where her graduate school was. Still, that was three years away. How does a couple stay together for that long when separated by that much distance? Should they even try?
We both wanted to try, but the idea of being apart that much for that long seemed an insurmountable obstacle in the path of our relationship. The thought of waiting three years to be living close together again, assuming I could even get a residency there, seemed a fuzzy wish, not a concrete plan that we both preferred.
I loved her more than I thought I ever would love someone. I still do. She's the perfect match for me and I like to think I am for her. When we started dating we seemed to immediately be at that point that takes many couples, the lucky ones anyway, years to get to, that point where the couple don't fight or bicker, where there's a common understanding and desire to help the other, all while maintaining that allure and lust that comes from just spending time with each other, conversing, touching, watching the other person. A comfort and love that seems very rare when I look at the couples around me.
And it was because I loved her so much that I was so obsessed with watching her being used by men as she was passed out. I had no desire to watch other people used in such a manner. It was only her I fantasized about that way.
I just couldn't consider a life without her. Beyond being beautiful, intelligent, and good-hearted, she's strong and independent. Our classmates seemed like spoiled children next to her. She handled the abrupt and violent death of her parents with a calm solemnity.
She returned to school after a period of mourning and found the strength to focus on her studies, not by denying what had happened, but by delving into the feelings without letting them overwhelm her. Six months after the funeral she still cried on the phone when we talked and recalled stories from her past that stressing how important they had been to her. She was sad by their passing and always would be, but she also valued what they had given her. Her parents had wanted her to be successful and happy and had worked hard to offer those chances to her, and she didn't want to ruin that. She had an optimism and hope in the most difficult of experiences that I had never seen in another person.
We were going to see each other one more time before she went to graduate school. It was only mid-summer, but she was going early to settle in and start some research with a professor she was going to be assisting. We had one weekend before she left. It was during a break in my own studies so we could spend the time together. She was excited about the opportunity in front of her, but the unease in the future of our relationship dampened that excitement. I didn't want that. I also didn't want her to leave.
I must admit my reasons for not wanting her to go aren't entirely based on love, but also lust. Since I had watched her brother-in-law take advantage of her passed out body after her parents' funeral I hadn't been able to make it happen again. I'd had only one opportunity to even try and my target had not taken the bait. Now, she was going to leave and if we managed to stay together we'd see each other rarely and any opportunities to make that happen again would be difficult.
I realized I had been very lucky to be able to witness her being fucked while unconscious four times in the past two years. Three times in just the past year. I had no idea when I could make it happen again. Or if I could make it happen again at all.
I didn't want to lose her, for both loving and immoral reasons. I saw only one way to make this work, to give us a true chance at remaining a couple through the next tough three years. I would propose to her.
Once I had reached that conclusion it seemed so obvious. Of course we should get engaged to marry. It was absurd to think of either of us with another person. Whatever it took we would be together again. An engagement would help to secure that, to reinforce that bond between us, and make those three years more solid.
Her visit that weekend would be the perfect time to propose. I'm sure it's painfully obvious but I'm not much of a romantic. I have little creativity for romance. Denise is the same so it's yet another way we pair so well. I knew making a big grand gesture would seem insincere to both of us, and probably just be embarrassing. But I wanted to make some gesture, however small, proclaiming how much I wanted her in my life, how I couldn't see it being my life if she wasn't in it.
Shopping for an engagement ring wasn't easy. I had very little money at the time. I was in medical school after all, already piling on debt, and I didn't come from a wealthy family. So, I bought a ring not nearly worth what I was asking of Denise. I promised that if she accepted it I would buy her a better ring eventually.
On the day that Denise was to be driving to me for our weekend together she called and said she'd be really late. She'd been busy packing her apartment for the move and had barely recovered from a summer cold. I was disappointed she'd be late but figured it gave me time to think of something special to do for the proposal.
I didn't want to make some grand proposal. I didn't see myself getting down on a knee and asking for her hand. I didn't want to hire a sky writer or some other absurd thing I've seen people do. These things would seem insincere to both of us. But I wanted to surprise her. I wanted to do something special for her.
I didn't have much time and I'm not very creative so the best I came up with was breakfast in bed the next morning with the ring on the tray. I went to the store and bought what I needed.
When she arrived around midnight she was tired and we went to bed immediately. We lay there for a while talking about the future, both of us avoiding discussing what we were going to do about our relationship, just talking about schools and assuring each other that three years wasn't long to wait to be together again, and that we'd find time to visit. We were young, all we had was time. But underneath was a melancholy at the long stretch of time ahead of us. I thought many times of proposing right then but it didn't feel right. It seemed desperate.
Eventually we both fell asleep but I woke early in the morning and lay there beside her wishing I could think of something. I sat up and looked down at her sleeping. I always feel so much more tender to her when I watch her sleeping. Maybe it's her vulnerability. But I always have a strong desire to touch her face, to caress her, when I watch her sleep. I brushed the back of my hand against her cheek and felt a love for her stronger than anything I had ever felt. I knew that we'd make it through those three years and be together again.
Eventually, I got out of bed, dressed, and made her a breakfast of fresh waffles with a strawberry syrup, placing strawberries slices around the plate. I put the plate on a tray with a small vase with one red rose and two glasses of champagne. I left a space between the champagne glasses for the ring. I was pleased with myself. It wasn't the biggest proposal a man could make but it fit for us.
I took the tray to the bedroom and set it down by the bed. I retrieved the ring from its hiding place and set it on the tray. I sat down on the bed next to her. She was laying on her side, facing me, her left hand draped across the bed covers. I started to wake her and then had an idea how to make it more of a surprise.
I gingerly lifted her left hand, watching her face to make sure she stayed asleep. I splayed her fingers apart and straightened her ring finger. Very carefully I started to slip the ring onto her finger. Luckily her ring size hadn't changed since I had bought a ring for her last birthday. The ring slipped over her first knuckle smoothly, but got hung up on the second knuckle. I carefully eased it past the knuckle, twisting and turning, glancing back at her face to see if she'd waken. Getting caught doing that would probably be more awkward than romantic. I got the ring past the knuckle and slid it all the way down to the base of her finger. I smiled and set her hand back down.
I bent over and kissed her softly on the lips. I pulled back to see if it had woken her and it hadn't. So, I leaned in again and kissed her harder, pushing her lips apart with my mouth. I traced a line with my fingers from the corner of her mouth across her cheek to her ear. I softly touched her ear, tracing its curve, tickling the fine hairs.
She didn't respond, so I kissed from her mouth, across her cheek, to her ear, my fingers drifting behind her ear and the back of her neck. I kissed her ear softly, letting my tongue brush the inside. I whispered her name into her ear then squeezed her earlobe softly between my lips. I stroked the soft skin behind her ear with my thumb. Kissing her ear always turned her on, but she wasn't stirring from her deep sleep.
I placed a line of kisses down from her ear and along the side of her neck, sucking softly at the skin after each kiss. My fingers played across the back of her neck. She tilted her head subtly in her sleep, stretching her neck to my kisses. I kissed up the front of her neck, over her chin, and to her lips again. I kissed her deeply, opening her mouth wide, my fingers moving in circles across the back of her neck.
I rolled her onto her back to kiss her harder, my fingers moving across to the front of her neck. I felt her sigh against my lips and broke the kiss to give a soft bite on her lower lip. I felt her body twitch slightly on the bed. I kissed her neck, then nibbled on her soft skin. I heard her sigh loudly and lifted my head to look at her, finally starting to waken. I held her head in my hand and kissed her deeply. I opened her mouth and touched my tongue to hers.
Slowly she woke, kissing me back, her eyes blinking open. I broke the kiss to look down at her, smiling at me, my palm now touching her cheek and jaw line, cupping her face in my hand.
"Good morning," she said and sighed.
