Page 112 of The Husband Diet
Once upon a time, I’d have joked that I was a basket case in a basket. Or a blimp in a blimp. But from now on, I’d be kinder to myself and ease a little on the self-effacing sarcasm.
It was heaven, soaring above treetops and fields ranging from yellow to green to brown, weightless for once in my life, not having to worry about how many people were allowed in the elevator or how many kilos it held. And Julian by my side. What a beautiful country we’d chosen to live in.
Then I felt him move. I turned to look at him and saw his face was flushed as he bent over. My God, he was ill and hadn’t said anything.
‘Julian? Julian, are you OK?’ I asked, tugging at him to pull him up.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, bending to his knee, another little box in his hand. Yuh-oh.
I swallowed as the wind whipped at my face. ‘Are you proposing this time?’
‘Uh-huh…’ he said, radiant.
‘In a balloon? Cool.’
‘Not so cool if you don’t say yes this time.’
I didn’t need to think about it. I looked at him and he became serious. ‘Do I get to keep both rings?’ I quipped, and he laughed.
‘Yes, you do!’
I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him as hard as I could. ‘I love you so much,’ I whispered. ‘You won’t mind if I keep my maiden name? Not that Foxham isn’t nice, but—’
‘OK, OK,’ he chuckled, and cupped my chin to kiss me.
I’d always loved Erica Cantelli. Only I didn’t know it.
I remembered my Nonna’s words.Don’t let go of your dreams, Erica – whatever shape they take, just hang onto them…
Julian had helped me realize three of them (I’d postponed my ticket to Paris and bought three more for the next August).
I was flying over the Tuscan countryside in a balloon with a box of paints at my feet, and I had someone to share it all with.
And the joy of it was that, after all the heartache and diets, I’d managed to be myself again and steer my life where I wanted it to go. After all this time, I’d finally realized that my best diet had been love.
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Epilogue
Julian had been right – he really was a heavy sleeper, so he never complained about my snoring or midnight monologues. But if I needed him awake at say, 3 a.m., which was basically always for one reason, all I had to do was pull the right chord – yes,thatone – and he’d be instantly alert.
Ah, the joys of sex in the wee hours. It’s the best – you’re rested, relaxed and warm, and then you can go back to sleep again without worrying about rushing off to work. Not that I’d be rushing anywhere in Tuscany. We even arranged for the school bus to pick the kids up, starting the new school year. Year. Wow. I hadn’t known Julian for a year and here we were. I must have been nuts.
And guess what – I wasn’t grinding my teeth or having my apnea episodes anymore. Even my migraines were gone. It just goes to show you what a bit of serenity can do. No longer did I wake in the middle of the night gasping for breath – unless Julian’s tongue was running down my body.
We give ourselves completely in the hope of being happy. But sometimes, no matter how hard we try, it all goes wrong. Too many commitments, too many sacrifices, the growing apart emotionally thing, etcetera. We invest the best years of our lives to pursue this dream. But in the meantime, we’ also forget whoweare and what our original aspirations were.
Only lucky people get all their love back and live the dream of a great relationship. And if you’re really lucky, like me, there’s enough love to spare for yourself, as well.
Oh, and if you’restillwondering who left those flowers and that anonymous love note on my front door on Quincy Drive a thousand years ago, look up to the sky and you’ll see him kissing the luckiest girl in the world in a hot-air balloon.
