We went down to the beach, and everybody else had gone home, so it was just her and me. And we’d known each other our whole lives. We’d been a couple since high school. But that vacation after your Mom finished her doctorate was the first time we’d travelled alone together.
It wasn’t the same as going in a group, like we used to do over spring break. The quiet places were all full, and that hotel felt so crowded with nobody but us staying in it. Everybody wondered why we’d never gotten married. And that weekend was when we had an answer. I’d wondered before that. I’d tried to go sooner. She had, too, I guess. But it took that vacation for me to realize we’d never have any quiet if we stayed together.
So I left.
She called me six weeks later when she found out we were pregnant.
I was staying in your grandmother’s basement looking for a university to hire me after the start of the school year. Those aren’t easy to find any time. Coming home seemed easier. And it didn’t seem right… this was how many years ago … anyway, we got married to put a good face on the thing.
Turned out we were wrong. There were a thousand quiet places left. A hundred thousand. But we’d never have found them if I had stayed at that hotel in the first place.
I gave Katri at http://bookslikeher.wordpress.com/this prompt: Of course, the logic was perfect if you considered it from her perspective.
Jessie Powell is the Jester Queen. She likes to tell you about her dog, her kids, her fiction, and her blog, but not necessarily in that order.