Four Little Words

I’d practiced this. I knew the words by heart. I’d practiced them at least a thousand times before. I knew the gesture just as well. Four words, one knee. Standard marriage proposal stuff, no big deal. Get down on one knee and say four simple words and everything you’ve ever wanted in your whole life is yours. It’s that simple. The beautiful woman, the perfect life awaits. Yet I sweat cold deep inside and hesitate.

  I had already attended to the shopping part, exactingly picking out everything to be within precise specifications. All done in the requisite romantic whimsy, of course. To find the perfect stone hadn’t been easy. No run of the mill diamond would do in this situation, I couldn’t just run down to the local strip mall and hit the jeweler’s shop behind that chain restaurant, you know, the one with all the flair that microwaves most of their fresh served food. That wouldn’t do at all. Not even close. I’d consulted with the best dealers in the diamond district, legal and otherwise, they couldn’t find what I needed either. I broadened my search, it took months but I finally found the perfect stone.

  Unromantically, I’d already talked to the proper lawyers as well. Some would say such a situation shouldn’t involve details of legality, that the very mention of contractual obligations ruins the magic and mystery of the experience. I am not one of those people. In fact I’m of the opinion that going the extra mile to ensure legal protection shows how serious I really am, shows how determinedly ready I am to start my new life with my gorgeous woman by my side. Needless to say a qualified lawyer on this subject is much harder to find than one might anticipate. But it can be done, call in a favor here, ask around there, eventually you’ll find the person your looking for. In this case, the person your looking for is a plain looking man in a plain looking room who speaks in a flat monotone voice and avoids direct eye contact. No, a smooth talking, thousand dollar suit with an Ivy League pedigree wasn’t the proper solution, not this time, not for this situation. The plain man with the monotone voice was known in certain circles for writing the most ironclad contracts of this type to be found anywhere on earth. 

  I knew what I was doing. For months I’d been putting the pieces in motion for the actual event. Not to mention the preceding years building a deep and meaningful relationship. It wasn’t love at first sight, not at all, at first it wasn’t anything. Our relationship was not the white hot flash of infatuation but the slow building of an eternal bond. One small act at a time it grew, one day at a time until it became all consuming. Now I was just four little words away from the woman and the life of my dreams. 

  Tonight was the night. A cool fall night and yet my skin flushed with nervous fear. The streets hummed with human activity. People going on with their lives, some having good days some having bad days, while I was having a life changing day. I felt they knew it too, all of these strangers, though there was no way that they could. Still, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I was just a little bit more ignored, given just a little more personal space and a just a little less eye contact than even what’s normal for Manhattan. It felt like they knew about the rock in the inside pocket of my suit coat, close to my heart. Impossible, but in my mind they knew the words on the contract in my briefcase. They knew the words and they judged me for it. Yet I somehow stood apart from their world. On my way to meet my soulmate. 

 They’d already be there waiting, at the old Italian restaurant with the wood paneled walls and the blindingly white table cloths. Not that I was anywhere near running late. I’m usually punctual in any situation, but tonight I wouldn’t dare be a second late.As I got closer the stone weighed down on chest with the force of eternity, the words of the contract seemed to whisper sinisterly from somewhere inside my soul. Two blocks left until the historic landmark restaurant. The restaurant that stood less than a stones throw from the shadow cast by the tallest church steeple in all of New York. The one right around the corner from famous museums and right around another corner from less savory attractions.

 Approaching the door I pictured exactly how the scene inside would look. The restaurant would be completely empty. A rarity for a place that usually has a weeks long wait list. But the old man who’d owned the place since the beginning of time had been known to arrange a private dining experience from time to time. For the right customers, and the right price of course. The lights would be out and the shades drawn, only candle light would do for tonight. I had given explicit instructions for their proper arrangement, but of course the old man didn’t need to be told, he’d done this kind of thing countless times over the years. My heart beat races like a snare drum. My breath comes in gasps. I shouldn’t be so nervous. Beautiful woman, perfect life. Four words, one knee. 

 There’s no hostess tonight, I know to see myself to our table, I’ve rehearsed this with the old man in exacting detail down to the number of steps. I know he’s in the back kitchen waiting to oversee the cooking and the serving, but that’s for later. For now its just me and the terrifyingly beautiful creature waiting for me at our table. We both know what’s coming and why we’re here. Solemnly I take a knee in the proper place within the arraigned circle of glimmering red candles. Reaching into my inside chest pocket nearest my heart I withdraw the rock. With trembling hands, I present the bloodstained piece of jagged marble carved from the cornerstone of the Temple of Solomon. Looking into the abyssal black depths of the eyes glaring down at me, I say those four little words.... “My soul is yours”