"He didn't mention it," I muttered to myself.
"He didn't even ask. It was as if he knew that love was
something I believed grew between two people. Those
who claimed they were struck by lightning and heard
bells ringing every time they kissed were people
living in a fairy tale, putting themselves into romance
novels and films. In the end when reality set in, they were the most disappointed. The best marriages were ones like the one I was about to consent to: a marriage built on sensible, logical blocks, giving it a firm foundation. Love would come later, I thought. First, we had to respect each other and succeed together. Then, we would look into each other's eyes and say, "Yes, yes, there's another strong bond there, an emotional tie that is now strong enough to hold two independent people together securely. Now it's proper and right to say, 'I love you,' and have it mean
something."
I climbed the stairs and went to Mother's room.
She was dozing. Her nurse looked up at me. "I'll stay with her awhile," I said.
"Very good." She rose. "I'll just go down to
have some coffee," she said looking at Mother. She
shook her head, her eyes dark. "Call me if you need
me," she said before leaving.
I sat by the bed and studied Mother's small,
burdened breaths that made her chest look heavy. Her
bald head ravished by the chemotherapy was wrapped
in a silk scarf. Her skin was so pasty white, she looked
like she had no blood.
After a few more moments, she whimpered and
grimaced and then opened her eyes to see me sitting
there. "Oh, Olivia, dear. Have you been here long?" "No, just a few minutes, Mother. I came to tell
you something so you would be the first to know," I
said, despite the fact that Daddy had been in on
Samuel's plan, perhaps even before Samuel had
thought of it himself.
"What, dear?" she asked trying to turn toward
me. I fluffed her pillow and helped her sit up. Even
though my hand moved around her face like a
hummingbird, she didn't notice the ring. It was as if