4.29
“They’ve spoiled us again,” Penelope said, noticing my appraisal of the table full of guest items. I noticed she wasn’t reaching for anything. She was probably too warn out, too exhausted from the day. Had I allowed her to get over-taxed?
I probably shouldn’t have said it, but I couldn’t help myself from spouting off. “I would spoil you every day if you wanted it, my darling, but I have figured out that you prefer the simplest things. Since jewels and orchids are not to your taste, I guess I’ll just have to focus on bunny slippers and shiny red apples.”
She laughed, as I’d hoped she would.
“And what should I buy for you?” she asked. “What is it that a rich man wants?”
My mouth knew no caution. I blurted it out like a spoiled child. “A wife who loves me.”
I gulped like a young boy, my voice turning raspy, quivery. Embarrassed, I turned to look out through the large picture window. Perhaps if I pretended to have been joking?
Silence was her response. I read that as rejection. I stood up and walked toward the bathroom, grabbing my robe on the way.
Penelope
Timothy didn’t kiss me or touch my hand after those wistful words. He simply left the thought exposed in a kind of bleakness, as if that particular gift was something he thought he’d never receive and perhaps didn’t even deserve.
I sat in silence, thinking about his voice, his words, and then about the day we’d just shared. Then my mind wandered off, into the past three days. Timothy on the airplane ride. His patience over my ridiculous fears. The way he’d looked handing out the shirts and jackets he’d bought me, his eyes all lit up as if his major joy came from doling out presents.
And there were the many moments of shared delight in the animals we’d seen during our zoo visits. Our exchanges and whispered words. The kisses, too, and all the lovely moments under the green bedspread here in the hotel room. Oh, my.
But, even before that, the way he’d wanted my opinion on various paintings. The encouragement. The support. The listening.
Timothy had been wonderful — every moment. And I loved him. Wholeheartedly.