******047:

Christmas for Aubrey was a whole different affair than what it would have been for me up until I met her. I would have gone from party to party, entertainment to entertainment, basketball game to basketball game. I never would have thought of gifts, my mom would do that for me, for all the nieces and nephews, etc.

But as we checked into our suite on board Royal Caribbean's cruise of the Eastern Caribbean, I felt awful, and Aubrey wasn't speaking to me--- still.

I only know that Christmas was being overlooked for Aubrey because Abbie--- her niece, and our travel nanny--- kept me informed.

Aubrey would have gone home thirteen days prior to the holiday to a whole slew of events intended to celebrate Christmas for twelve whole days of service projects, and gift making. Aubrey—the youngest and the single daughter, had never been away from this tradition. It was possible that her silence had to do with her nostalgia and creating a new family at this time of year. I told myself that.

I didn't believe it.

Our suite had three bedrooms--- the master bedroom with balcony--- the nanny room for Abbie, and the kid's room. Jeremy had his own room and Hannah also had a room across the hall from us. And this was the week before Christmas.

The bedroom door closed and Aubrey hauled her suitcase to the closet and set it down. She didn't look at me, hadn't really given me a good once over in the thirty or so hours since the pre-concert cussing fit. My nerves were taut--- stretched thin--- and ready to battle. It was almost dinner time--- bon voyage had been a disaster of kids running and screaming, and Aubrey placating them. Virgil was the calmest--- and the least sick, although it seemed they all had colds. Felicity claimed she was bored, and wanted to go home. Jeremy and Hannah were annoyingly entwined--- and oblivious, and I with them as well. I didn't even react when they asked if we wanted to meet up for dinner. Part of me just wanted to sleep.

There also had not been one free quiet moment where Aubrey and I were alone long enough to discuss the crap we'd gotten ourselves into. Now needed to be that time before another moment passed.

"Abbie will get the kids ready for dinner?" I asked.

"Umhm." Aubrey opened her suitcase and started hanging up dresses.

"Aubrey--- look at me."

She shrugged and straightened and then turned just long enough to pretend she'd actually seen me, when she hadn't. She went back to putting dresses on clothes hangers.

Cuss words rang in the stillness of my mind.

I told myself to get a grip.

One of us had to be the adult here.

If she was still in the cold war, then I would have to tear down the Berlin Wall. I thought we'd vowed not to cold war it. I thought we'd been through this already.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

"Aubrey."

"What?"

"You haven't spoken to me since last night."

She shrugged with her back to me.

"Is this still about the cussing?"

"It is." She announced slowly, and distinctly.

"And you mentioned that my continued use of profanity might be a deal breaker for you. What exactly does that mean?"

"You said it. You said it meant divorce." She stopped hanging things up and stood there, her shoulders slumped, her back straight and tense. The AC came on and ruffled her ponytail.

"I didn't mean it."

"Why did you even think it?"

"Then what the heck is the deal breaker?" I blurted. "You said that cussing was the deal breaker."

"I told you that before we ever got married and still—to this day--- you use profanity whenever you want." She finally turned around and her eyes were tortured.

I stood up. "I'm sorry."

One hand flung out, two eyes rolled back. "You can't be sorry! You keep doing it! You don't even try not to. And you do it in front of the kids!"

"I'll stop." I took one step closer and she didn't move, her eyes were wild with making her point.

I'd always known it meant something to her. But now--- this moment, I think it finally hit me how utterly serious she really was.

"I will put up with a lot of stuff, Rafe. But--- I just can't stand hearing those terrible words.... Ever!"

"They don't mean to me what they mean to you." I said as I approached, kicking off my flip flops, and reaching for her.

She crumpled against me--- breathing heavily, a kind of dry sob that tore at my heart strings.

"And that's not the worst of it." She went on, leaning against me, as if her body wouldn't support itself. I held her, shaking visibly. This enforced silence had taken its toll. I felt the glistening of tears behind my own eyelids, and cursed myself once more for good measure.

"What's the worst of it?"

"That I ask that of you!" She cried angrily. "I ask you to change, and I tell you that it's a deal breaker as if I would leave you, that your love isn't important to me, and like I don't love you simply the way you are!"

"Maybe knowing that you love me not the way I am, but the better way that you know I can be.... You love me up to my potential." I whispered this.

Aubrey backed up, loosening my grip on her. "Rafe--- there are no deal breakers. I love you no matter what." Her voice was hurt--- suffering.

I closed my eyes for a moment, thinking about her and the depth of her convictions. I wasn't sure I had convictions as deeply held as hers.

I ran a hand through my hair. "I'm not that guy." I said. "I'm not the guy that talks divorce at every crossroads. I didn't mean to bring up that word even. It just popped out. It had no business in my vocabulary."

She drew in her breath sharply. "I know."

My eyes snapped up to hers. "I was very mad."

"I know. At me. You were really mad at me. You still are kind of mad."

"But I don't want to be mad." I knew this to be true, and I didn't want her capitulation. I wanted her to stay herself. Treating me like the man she knew I could be--- a better man.

"Was there ever a moment when you honestly thought I might not be the wife you need or want?"

Oh, man! Had she thought that? It killed me to think I made her so insecure! "Not one moment."

"What if I can't be that girl all the time? What if I have to work on it always? What if I never live up to the perception you need?" She fell onto the bed, dejected.

"Aubrey--- I don't want the girl of my perceptions. I don't want the girl in my dreams--- whoever that might be--- it's a myth---- you are better than any dream girl, and you live up to and exceed all my expectations. Expectations, not perceptions. There's nothing nebulous about you for me, baby. You're real to me, and everything about you is loved. I'm sorry I have such a volatile temper."

"And a colorful vocabulary." She sat up straight.

I looked into her wounded eyes. Eyes I couldn't bear to see despairing, or insecure.

"No more colorful vocabulary. You mean more to me than that." I said simply.

Aubrey cupped my chin, fingered my clean-shaven cheeks and planted a firm, but apologetic kiss on the corner of my lips. It was electric. I felt like I'd been starved for her attention.

My hand unerringly found the base of her neck, and firmly held her to me as I deepened our kiss, letting her know once more how much she meant to me. Taking back the foul words and replacing them with loving ones. A deep anxiety encompassed me and I tasted coppery fear like blood in our mouths. Was I able to give Aubrey what she needed? It seemed so simple, but it reflected a mindset that I still embraced in the inner me.

We fell back completely on the bed, entwined, eager, our bodies speaking the language that our hearts knew well. Aubrey's ready enthusiasm was infectious--- neither of us wanted to be at odds. I loved her for that, for not holding grudges, not internalizing the bad word differences in us too much. But I knew that words spoken in anger often came back to haunt--- it was better not to say them at all--- letting them slip out into the atmosphere between us risked misunderstandings, and damage to sweet and tender feelings.

I gently kissed her--- allowing the flow of our passion to ebb and creep around us, wrapping us in its silky sheen. The flow of forgetfulness--- when nothing else mattered.

Hands removed clothing that hindered the satin feel of quivering skin on skin. I shivered, wondering if I'd ever treasured this side of love making as much as I did now. I thought not, but it was Aubrey who had introduced me to that exotic wait for it moment, when our touches electrified each other--- our lips found waiting spots so tantalizing we groaned with desire to satiate immediately, and Aubrey didn't let us--- not this time.

"That other time...." She breathed against my neck.

"Hm?"

"That time you took me in the shower---- the other day?"

I knew to what she referred--- and my rudeness that day sent a thrill of shock like a bucket of cold water.

"Why did you do that?"

"I don't know."

"It was right after the temple experience, were you upset by something there?"

"No."

"Just work stress?"

"Maybe." I was feeling distinctly uneasy with the flow of conversation, and I wanted her to be quiet and return to making love--- not words. I pressed against her urgently and she opened to me, but when I opened my eyes, the worried crease between her brows was telling. I felt the hideous feeling of--- swallow--- instant flaccidity. She felt it too, and was even more surprised.

And it made her renew her efforts--- but my mind had traveled to those darker places, where rudeness resided and regret dodged every moment. She started to withdraw, and I grabbed her hand and pressed it to me, so she kept trying, but we both knew something had changed the dynamic.

I finally rolled on my side, away from her, and she curled into my back, whispering words better left unsaid. No guy wants this experience, not being able to please his wife--- and the thought always insinuates itself--- what if it keeps happening?

She drew tickling circles on my back. "Rafe, that day in the shower? I know you don't really want to talk about it, especially since it made us--- kind of----."

"Unable to continue, yeah, go on, might as well."

She took a deep breath. "Was that normal with other women you've been with?"

I swallowed harder. "I've felt that way before." I knew I had--- totally into self-gratification--- not a bit interested in my partner. "Not normal, though. I don't really like that feeling."

"It's very dominant--- not shared." She admitted and my heart sank. I didn't want her to have that association with me, with us.

"Some people---- some people--- sometimes--- they--- do it on purpose. One of them is dominant--- planned that way---."

"Oh." She was again surprised. Or at least her voice sounded that way. Then she surprised me. "Actually I guess I knew that already. It was partly why I let you handle me that way. But afterward, I was a little embarrassed--- since you kind of ignored me initially."

I was now more than embarrassed. "I don't think I intended to plan to handle you roughly."

"I get that now--- and in lieu of several subsequent encounters that were not that way...."

"I have a lot to learn about us." I said finally.

She shrugged against my back, and reached around to touch me. Her touch now elicited a response. She began kissing my back, moving lower and lower. Her hands were everywhere.

Or maybe not---- maybe we just have to learn.... From each other.... Oh....

******