Looking around, Marc tried to enjoy himself, mingling, talking to people, but his heart just wasn't in it, feeling instead like a ship lost at sea with no beacon to guide him home. Tonight should have been special; a gallery full, as women from all over would pass by to offer their compliments on his paintings. Marc accepted each one, smiling and putting forth his best face and yet he sighed.
Following what must have seemed like an eternity, Marc's work was being proudly displayed for all to see. Now everyone would have a chance to see yet another facet to his ever-growing presence in American culture. Everything seemed to be in its proper place. The paintings hung beautifully in the gallery. The hors-d'oeuvres were of the finest quality. However, something, no correction, someone was missing. Her name was . . . Lydia
Lydia had always been there. She'd been his support when he needed it. She gave him hope when he wanted to quit. Lydia was the pillar of strength he admired. Glancing at one of his paintings brought it all back . . .the hope, the love, the pain . . .
Marc remembered the first day Lydia arrived for her interview. Dressed in a white tee shirt and jeans, she made a definite impression. Initially, her physical beauty overwhelmed him, and then, little by little, he realized that there was more to this remarkable woman than met the eye. The intelligence and kindness that radiated from within complimented her outward beauty. Slowly, they developed a bond, much like a brother and a sister. However, the bond was changing and so was their relationship.
Marc found his attraction to Lydia growing stronger and stronger with each passing day. Every time they worked together, Marc sensed that there was an indescribable quality that Lydia possessed. It stirred feelings within him he had never experienced before. Marc found it becoming more and difficult to concentrate on his paintings, finding his thoughts always turning back to Lydia.
Each day that Marc and Lydia worked together, the closer they became. It was true that they frequently fought, but only so far as a "duel of the brushes." The feelings each had for the other seemed to be changing from that of friendly playfulness to something more. It was as if the dam would spill over at any given moment. Marc knew something was happening to him . . . something was changing, but he just didn't know how to act upon these newfound emotions. To him Lydia was a best friend, a sister. She couldn't be more than that . . . or could she?
It all changed in a single moment. Finishing his painting, Marc looked over to Lydia and saw it . . . the longing, the desire. She smiled, trying to hide the feelings she too was experiencing. Lydia rarely spoke, being too shy to say much of anything. It was at this moment, Marc could feel the dam breaking and the emotions, he'd kept pent up for the past few weeks, began to spill over. Walking over and without hesitation, Marc cupped Lydia's face in his hands, bringing her lips to meet his. Gently he brushed his lips against hers, unsure of her reaction. The sweetness intoxicated him, making him wanting to continue. He paused for a moment, waiting for Lydia's reaction. As she wrapped her arms around him, he kissed her once more and with that single moment, things in both their lives would change dramatically.
Standing at the bridge, Marc stopped to reflect on his growing relationship with Lydia. For the past two weeks, they had been practically inseparable, discovering the joys and pleasures each could give to the other. Marc smiled as he recalled the day the two of them went skating. Lydia felt nervous because she had not skated since she was a child. After he helped her lace up her skates, pausing to look into her eyes only for a moment, Marc gently assisted Lydia in getting to her feet. At first she stumbled and wobbled a little, but she would not fall. Marc would be sure to catch her if needed and ready to feel the warmth she radiated.
Extending his hand, he watched as Lydia placed her trust in him. Slowly, they made their way onto the rink, each not letting go of the other. Their bond was practically unbreakable. Little by little, it came back to Lydia and soon she was skating . . . almost. She still felt a little unsure of herself and the other people breezing by her didn't help matters. Sensing her apprehension Marc began to laugh, wanting her to forget falling and just have fun. It worked. Soon Lydia was able to pick up her speed, but no so quick as she could avoid Marc skating around her, teasing her with his smile, his sparkle . . .
Smiling once more, he remembered when they were playing with the kids in the snow, laughing and enjoying themselves. It was to be a snow battle, with the victor choosing his or her own prize. After successfully winning the first round by knocking Lydia to the ground, Marc leaned over and claimed yet another kiss from Lydia, something, which she was all too happy to give.
Although the two of them were exhausted after a day of skating and playing in the snow, they found time once more to enjoy themselves. Lying back on the sofa, Marc smiled to himself as felt the gentle touch of Lydia's body against his, absently stroking her soft golden locks. The comfort Marc felt was reciprocated through the smile on Lydia's face. Seizing the moment, he gave into a slightly juvenile whim . . . proceeding to tickle Lydia, feeling the softness and warmth of her skin. Somehow . . . he knew this was the one . . . the one he wanted to be with . . . forever.
The next night, Marc and Lydia went out to dinner. The nervousness growing within him made him almost sick to his stomach. Prior to going to the café, both he and Lydia did some window-shopping and when Lydia wasn't looking, Marc picked up his package . . . his special package . . .
Dinner was splendid and delicious, what little Marc could actually swallow. Finally and before he lost his nerve, Marc stood up and knelt down on one knee, opening a small package. Speaking the words that so many women wait for all of their lives . . . Marc spoke, "Will you be my wife?"
Lydia's smile faded, replaced by tears. Before he knew what was happening, she had run out of the restaurant, Marc chasing her but to no avail. She was gone and not one but two hearts were broken
Marc spent the better part of the evening looking for Lydia, but did not find her. She had been the one and now she was gone. He berated himself for pushing her too quickly. First he was slow in acting and instead of going slow and steady, he rushed thing, scaring her off in the process. Walking along the bridge, Marc felt so alone, with no hope and nothing to live for anymore. Slowly and in an almost deliberate fashion, a terrible thought crept into his mind, infecting and feasting on his misery, and then . . . the thought was gone. Marc shook his head and glanced at his watch. It was time to go home. Tomorrow would be the gallery exhibition. Tomorrow would be better. He didn't know how or why it would be better. He just knew. The gallery exhibition was a success. Marc had conquered yet another realm in the world of the arts. He should have been happy and yet he wasn't. Lydia wasn't there. He missed her. The ache inside of him was growing and hurting him, almost wanting to bring him to his knees. And then . . . he felt something. It was the touch he knew so well. Turning around, his vision stood before him, Lydia dressed in a beautiful strapless red dress. The smile on her face said it all. They would be together. March smiled and took her and drew a kiss from her, savoring its sweetness. Now everything made sense. Turning to the window, he mouthed two words . . . "Gracias papi"
