Three Little Letters

How long does it take for an average person to answer a question? You wonder as the sound waves crash into your eardrums and the electrical signals travel to your brain, materializing the question into reality. This question requires a quick response. If you pretend to get emotional and shed a few tears, you can buy more time, a few more seconds perhaps. You need to think before giving him an answer. There is so much going through your mind, like why are you sad and exhausted when you should be deliriously happy?

You look around the room and see your family and his, waiting eagerly for you to utter one small word. It is easy and you should say it. Only three little letters and it will make them all so happy. Your mother is thinking about wedding flowers and dreaming about grandchildren. Your father looks proud, the same way he was when you would score a goal in your high school soccer game, when you graduated college with honors, and when you landed your first full-time job with benefits and a 401K plan. This is the next step, the moment your parents have dreamt about, and so have you. What is taking you so long? Just say the damn word!

Your friends are there too, and they look jealous of this production. The party that was supposed to be for your birthday but it was an excuse to stage this proposal, the gorgeous ring in the blue box, and the man in front of you, who is so handsome you can almost hear them whisper, “How on earth did she manage to get him. She’s so lucky.”

Do YOU think you’re lucky? You used to think that. You sure did the first night you met him, at the same spot you are standing right now. It was three years ago, and you were on a date at this restaurant with a man you had met online. The date went so horrible that the guy got up and left before ordering dinner. You weren’t too devastated about it. Being thirty and single meant you’d had your share of horrible dates. You walked to the bar but before you could order a drink, one was sent to you, and the man who had sent that drink is now kneeling before you, waiting for you to make him the happiest man on earth.

That’s exactly the question he asked a few seconds ago, “Will you make me the happiest man on earth?” That is impossible, and he knows it too. How could he ask that of you? You could never make him happy. No one could. What happened to a simple, “Will you marry me?” Couldn’t he ask that question like any other ordinary proposal? You hate him for this; for making you think honestly about your answer when all you wanted to do is close your eyes and lie.

When he ordered you that drink on your first date, he ordered one for himself too. The conversation was so easy that you didn’t realize when he ordered a second drink and a third. He wasn’t tipsy at all, but you were. He looked like an Adonis with his dimpled smile and the way he moved his hand through his luscious hair when he confessed he had stayed behind after dinner with friends just to see if he could talk to you. He melted your heart, and you had to try hard to restrain from asking him to marry you right then and be the father of your children. That thought makes you smile now. How you wanted to marry him the first night you met and three years later, you hesitate.

You were surprised when he called you the next morning, just to see how you are. You were so intoxicated by the end of the night that you couldn’t even remember you had given him your phone number. He asked if you were hungover, which you were but you denied. He asked to see you again. You said yes before he had finished asking the question.

You fell in love fast and hard. He was fun to be with, he was generous and kind, he was admired by his family and friends, he had a dog he loved as much as people, and he appreciated you like you were a gift from above, given to him to cherish and adore. What he adored equally as much as you was an occasional drink or two. It was nothing, really, like drinking water. It was as if the alcohol was absorbed and evaporated through his skin before it ever reached any other part of his body.

The first time he got drunk was shocking to you. It was a Super Bowl party at a friend’s house, and you were talking to the ladies on the patio while the guys immersed themselves in beer and football. When you came in for the halftime show, you could tell he’d had too many. When he saw you, his smile was lazy, as if he couldn’t quite commit to it. You sat next to him and held his hand, he leaned over and kissed the side of your head, and the smell of alcohol burned your eyes. You asked him casually how many beers he had enjoyed. “More than two, less than ten,” he said. “You want one?” he asked, and you knew why. It was always an excuse for him to get one too.

For a while, it only happened at parties when he would drink so much that he would laugh hysterically at anyone’s stupid joke, and he would offer a few of his own. Friends loved it, and as long as you were there to take him home, it was all good fun. Your first fight was when he got you a glass of wine and you refused it. He asked what was wrong and you said you’ve become the designated driver. He said no one asked you to, and you got so mad you almost threw the wine at him. He apologized later and said he loves you and wants you to be happy. You finally told him that it would make you happy if he drank less and he promised he would. What a fool you are for believing him!

You moved in together at some point and that’s when you learned that he drank a glass or two every night with dinner. Nothing excessive, he claimed, just enough to relax after a hard day at work. On weekends, he poured himself a drink in the afternoon, in anticipation of a night out. You realized then that you had rarely seen him without alcohol running in his blood. What was he like without it? Would you still love him? Would he love you?

So many questions and so little time. He is waiting for an answer and you have to give one. You look at him, his eyes begging, his hands holding yours so tight you are afraid he would never let you go no matter what answer you give. It reminds you of the time you held on to him just like this to stop him from getting in the car. It was your fault, of course. If he had died, you would have blamed yourself forever. It was your best friend’s wedding and you had a few drinks yourself. He’d had more than a few, and neither one of you was fit to drive.  You begged him not to go. You kneeled and held on to his hands just like he is holding on to yours now. “Will you please wait or call an Uber?” you cried. “No,” he said, “I can drive. Are you coming?” You didn’t answer and he left. Maybe that’s what you should do now. Let the silence linger and watch him walk away.

He made it home that night, and everything seemed fine the next day except for the trashcans that were knocked down like bowling pins where he had parked the car. He didn’t die and didn’t kill anyone. But what if he had, and what if he does one day. How do you explain that to your mother’s grandchildren? What a crazy thought that your little answer now can change the lives of people who are not even born yet!

You love him. And you wish he loved you more than he loves the liquid flowing in his blood at this very moment. You know he can’t, but is that a good enough reason to refuse him? He never sees any flaws in you, and you know you have them. Why can’t you ignore his? You may never find yourself here again, with a beautiful man, looking at you like his life depends on your next word, making your friends green with envy, and making your parents beam with pride. You may never find yourself with a gorgeous ring on your finger and a beautiful wedding to plan. You may never find yourself with a groom who will be so drunk at the wedding he won’t remember it, and a lifetime of struggle with a man who denies his alcoholism. You may never find yourself raising children who will live in fear every day like you do.

And right before you open your mouth to say yes, you wonder how much does a divorce lawyer cost.

The human brain is quite remarkable. From the moment he asks the question until the response leaves your lips, your brain gives you all the reasons why you should say Yes or No. He expects to hear three little letters, but you give him two.