A Chain of Broken Events (Part 4 of 4)

It all started harmlessly enough with an email on May 7, 1999:

Good morning, Brian! I know your time is precious, so I’ll apologize now for bugging you… I realized that I no longer have [a friend’s] card and…her home phone number… Do you happen to have that number? I would love to talk to her about the possible room vacancy at her house.

At first, I didn’t think much of it. We had seen each other at Cactus Cantina a couple days earlier at a Cinco de Mayo party, and I guess you could say we hit it off. But she was dating someone at the time, and I was licking my wounds from a previous relationship. Neither of us looking, but in retrospect, neither of us closing our eyes either.

I responded like I always do – with some snarky comment about how she wasn’t bugging me, but that come to think about it, my time was worth about $250/hour, according to the law firm that was billing me out. So it wasn’t so much that she was “bugging” me, as it was that she “owed” the firm money.

The summer had just kicked off at our firm, and if you've ever worked at a big law firm, you’d know that meant: summer associates (aka “meal tickets”). Every summer there are a group of young, Harvard or Yale law school-educated blue-bloods that the firm babysits, in the hopes that they would accept lucrative first-year associate positions at the firm. Or at least that was the case in 1999. That’s great for everyone else because that meant huge firm-sponsored events and a ton of free lunches. I asked her to a Natalie Merchant concert (our firm had bought out the first two rows). I figured it would be a good way to get to know her. I remember that she wore capris for the occasion. I think I only remember that because I hated capris. We laugh about that still.

Email grew into longer emails. Longer emails grew into conversation. Conversation grew into lunches. And lunches grew into something much more. I wish I could say that I knew right then and there that we would be together forever. But that would vastly oversimplify the situation. It would be like trying to recreate the nuances of a painting using only two or three colors. It’s impossible to condense six years into a paragraph or two. What I can say is that we had a crazy journey. Everyone’s story is different, and mine clearly took a few detours along the country mile home. It had its share of drama. Drama worthy of a daytime emmy. But the great thing about it, I suppose, is that through it all, I still ended up in the place I was supposed to be. Amazing how God works...

Exactly six years to the day after that fateful email, I made the decision to push my boat into the water. I was convinced I could know nothing more about the seaworthiness of our relationship, and that the only step left was to push off from the dock and turn my eyes towards the horizon. Still, I spent the next week double checking all of my knots and pulling on all of the seams. Making sure, as best I could, that the sails could take the buffeting wind of conflict. I turned my house inside out looking for books on relationships and marriage. Is she the right one for me? What if I made a mistake? How could I know for sure? I dreamt nightly about past failures and the odds of future success. The more I thought about marriage, the more I began to question my own preparedness for it.

But somehow, through it all, I felt a sense of impending calm – not calm yet, but calm soon. I knew I was making the right decision. In a world of sinners and mismatched people, there was no one I’d rather fight through differences and hardship with than her. And once I accepted that there was no perfect person, the decision was easy. Mixed with faith and hope, the cocktail became downright intoxicating.

While she was not the fulfillment of all of my unrealistic expectations, she was the answer to all of my questions. And in the end, that was what I needed most. Not a person who makes it effortless, but a person who fights when it is hard. Not an extension of my own selfish ego, but someone else entirely. Someone who constantly strives to become something better than she is. Someone who will challenge me and encourage me to grow...even if I don't want to.

Buying the ring was both the scariest and the most exhilarating experience of my life. The jeweler at the store I bought it from spoke to me about the "4 Cs" of diamonds. But with every word he spoke to me about the spectrum of color grades, I heard him speak about shades of forever. And when he spoke of the size of the diamond in terms of carats, instead I heard the word “commitment” being measured in total weight. I guess it’s true what they say – buying a diamond means so much more than buying a diamond.

Teresa had an upcoming event in Baltimore – a black-tie benefit for the Shock Trauma Unit of the University of Maryland Medical Center. There were thunderstorms in the forecast, and all I kept thinking about was what I was going to do if it rained. Whether I should wait for the perfect moment, even if it meant holding off another week or two. Truthfully, I had no backup plan. So it seemed like a dubious sign when the fire alarm went off and everyone was hurried out into the pouring rain, dressed in their tuxedos and evening gowns.

After the evening ended, I suggested a walk along the inner harbor. It was damp, but thankfully, it wasn't raining anymore. As we walked down to the pier, I could feel myself growing more anxious. Not so much nervous. My mind was already made up. Just anxious that our lives were about to change. I began to look for spots along the pier to stop, but none were that memorable. To complicate matters, all of the benches were still wet. And even worse, two huge ships were docking, full of screaming high school kids fresh from their prom night.

When we reached the end of the pier, near the science museum, I decided I had to say something. After all, it was the end of the pier.

Do you think we’re going to make it?

Strange way to begin, and not the words I was expecting to come out of my mouth. But it was a great consolation to me that I already knew the answer. It was both easier and harder this time. I knew the weight those words would carry.

Are you breaking up with me?

No. Not at all. No.

My mind was racing, looking for the right time to ask a question. One question. The only question. I was stumbling. Stammering a bit. But right then, in the hustle and bustle of all of those kids, I could hear it in my head. Words I hadn’t heard with any conviction in a long time. Maybe forever. We’re going to make it. This time, I’m sure.

And right there, in the hazy light of the moon, and in the midst of the bustling crowd of high schoolers, I asked her to marry me. And she said yes.