A Fresh Start

They settled down with mini quiches that tasted like little bits of heaven and wine, and Alan felt himself beginning to relax.

“Thank you,” he said, abruptly.

Grace smiled. She understood.

“It’s my pleasure. I know you’ve been to all these places so many times, so it doesn’t feel like much to you. It doesn’t seem like much. I get that. But I’ve never seen these places before, so I look around, and I see magic. Look at how the lights shimmer, how they’re reflected on the water. It makes me wonder if there’s a world where we’re a reflection, too.”

Alan smiled.

“Maybe, and maybe everything we see is a reflection. Everything is a mirror, so what we see as good is evil, and what we see as left is right.”

“And we’ll need to live in a mirror for the world to be right, but it will be wrong to us,” said Grace, as Alan grinned at her.

“And so we’ll go through the looking glass,” finished Alan, and they laughed.

As the meal went on, Grace began to feel real hope.

After all, she reasoned, what was marriage if not companionship, trust, laughter… and love? She wanted all of that. She couldn’t deny that.

But she also knew that Alan didn’t want that. Alan wanted the companionship and the laughter, and if there was trust, it would have to be trust in him, from her. There would be no reciprocity if he had his way.

Grace didn’t want him to have his way. Grace was determined not to let him go on with a marriage that was a farce. She wanted him to see what they could be to each other.

And she wanted him. She could never forget everything she had felt in those few moments when he had forgotten himself long enough to put his hands on her.

Now, when he let his guard down enough to talk to her and laugh with her, she felt that connection all over again.

As they had their dinner, and more wine, and eventually dessert, Grace managed to convince herself that it was a date.

Dates led to intimacy. She wanted it.

The dusk deepened until they sat under moonlight, talking about nothing and everything. She could feel it. It was special.

So finally, she got up her courage and walked around the little table to slide onto Alan’s lap.

Alan didn’t push her away. Maybe it was the wine. Maybe he just hoped to be able to excuse himself the next day, claim that it was the wine. But he held her, when she slipped her arms around him and her lips found his.

She felt his body still, at long last, but she didn’t want him to move. She felt him try to stir.

“No, stay,” she whispered, snuggling closer to him. She wanted to feel his heart slow down slowly, beating against hers. She wanted to feel his skin cool against hers.

But those would be empty dreams.