'Til Death Do Us Part

I stared at him across the table. He was stirring sugar into his coffee, clinking the spoon against the ceramic edges. I sat with my hands curled around my cup, the coffee in it still black and bitter. Cracks in the faux leather booth dug into my thighs, my skin chilly from the blasting AC. My palms began to burn, and I let them, imagining the heat seeping up through my arms into my heart.

Ian sipped his sweetened coffee, his eye twitching as the flavor hit his tongue. A 24-hour diner was not the place to go for the best roast.

"So. What do we do now?" he said, staring down at the ring his cup had left on the table. A brown crop circle in a field of corn.

I shrugged, tense neck muscles complaining from the movement. "I don't know. You tell me. I was… Everything was fine for me."

Tears welled up in his eyes. I waited for pity to rise in me to match, but nothing came. Just emptiness, or at best, something crumbled and sour.

"I just… I thought that I could get over it. I did, I truly did. We've had such a beautiful relationship since then, and you've been so perfect. You've done everything for me, for us," he said, putting his coffee down and putting his head in his hand.

"But your demon is back."

"My demon is back," he breathed, letting it out like a sinner confessing to a priest. He looked lighter after he said it, and I resented him for it. He'd placed his coffee cup down slightly to the right of where the coffee ring was. My fingers itched to move it back, to fit it into the ring from before.

"The wedding was incredible," Ian continued. "You were so beautiful, and it's not that I regret it - it's not - it's just that I don't know if I can let go of this sadness in me. From before." He reached over and pulled out a thin paper napkin from the dispenser, jostling several condiment bottles. Ketchup, mustard, malt vinegar, and honey. Sour and sweet.

"It was years ago, Ian," the words fell out of my mouth like they had countless times before. I imagined them on a long string, bungee jumping out into the air only to be sucked back in and repeated at a later time. My voice sounded hollow, forced.

"I know, I know!" Ian rolled his eyes up to the sky and ran his palms down the sides of his face. His bright gold wedding ring left a red mark on his pale cheeks. We hadn't been on the island long enough for a tan to develop. "I just wanted our story to be different, you know? And what you did… what if I never get past it? What if I'm sad about it forever?"

He shifted his gaze to meet my eyes, waiting for my response. A response to a question he had posed so many times before, and that I had answered just as much. Matching his stare was like staring into the depths of the ocean. I fell in love with those eyes. The thought came and went, and left more in its wake.

I thought about the moonlit swim in the bay the night before. How the water was like glass, and reflected even the craters on the moon. Those eyes that had stared into mine and professed love deeper than I could even imagine. Slipping into the bay like silk and losing track of what was water and what was skin. A start to a honeymoon that should only exist in movies.

"I just think I need more time, you know?" Ian said. The absurdity of the phrase snapped me back to the present.

"To what?" I hissed. My tone of voice took him by surprise. He was used to me comforting him, soothing him whenever his demon reared his ugly head. This demon of jealousy, he called it. The demon of pride was my secret name for it.

"To…" he shook his head slightly as if to clear it. "To be on my own, to make sure I get rid of these thoughts. This demon."

The demon. The demon inside him that he blames for everything. For this back-and-forth, lack of commitment, lack of emotional maturity. The demon that comes out whenever he wants to be reassured of my love, as if years of therapy, devotion, and a damned wedding haven't been enough. The anger in my chest formed a hard fist and shot its way up. I opened my mouth to let it out.

"What can I get you?" The waitress' voice was low and scratchy, and spoke far more to a lifetime of smoking than the tobacco stains on her fingers could. Her heat-fried hair was pulled back into a low ponytail, and the swipe of blue eyeshadow across each lid touched my heart far more than Ian's pleading eyes. She pulled out a pad of paper from her apron and a short pencil from behind her ear, hovering the tip over the pad, ready to not waste a second.

"I'm fine with coffee for now," I said, giving her a slight smile as an apology. We were taking up a breakfast table, and although the last thing I could stomach was a greasy fry-up, I felt guilty for not ordering. Without batting an eye, the waitress turned to Ian. "What about you, honey?"

The term of endearment scratched at me. "He'll take some perspective," I growled under my breath. Ian coughed to cover it up and said that he was fine with coffee too for the moment, but could he get some water? The waitress nodded and swept away, her pad of paper unblemished.

"Hey, are you mad?" Ian asked, a small line forming between his brows. "You know I can't help it. We've talked about this. Sometimes I just wake up like this, with my demon on my shoulder. I want to forget, I do. You're the love of my life, and I can't imagine being with anyone but you. And now we're married, and maybe that just scares me, and I'm worried because I still have these damn thoughts in my head, and I thought..."

"Wait," I almost laughed. "You thought that marriage might be a solution to getting rid of this demon in you?"

"Well, maybe!" he shrugged, sitting back into the booth which let out a soft hiss as the cushion compressed. There was a pregnant pause as we both processed the madness of it. He broke the silence first.

"I just want to be alone. Without this demon. And when I'm with you, it's here. It's with me and I just want to forget it and let it go. Can we just have a break? Just to give me time to forget all the sadness so we can move on."

He reached across the table and cupped his hands around mine, which were still gripping the now-tepid coffee. His palms were large and warm. I wanted to sink into them and let them hold me. Instead, I pulled my hands away.

"Husband," I said, for the first and last time. "I have proven again and again how much our love means the world to me. And how I would do anything for you."

"Oh, I know, and -"

I held up a hand, annoyed at the interruption. He was probably expecting the same speech I gave every time.

"And now we are bound by law and faith. Until death do us part." I leaned in slightly.

"And now, there is a part of me that is dead. Your demon has killed it. And so, may you two live happily ever after."

I stood up and walked out of the diner. I felt the waitress' eyes on me as she half-heartedly listened to the orders of a rowdy family a few tables over. I saw her glance back to where Ian was sitting, but I didn't follow her gaze. I know that his face would show puzzlement, but not panic. He knew I would come back. But this time…

I pressed open the front door, heat and humidity hitting me without mercy. I smelled the wet earth from the early morning rain and heard the ocean waves in the distance. And then I felt the weight on my shoulders. My own demons, settling in.

I wasn't any better than Ian, really. Each of us, on this honeymoon, had some uninvited guests. 'Til death do us part.