Dear World,
I remember being in the Dominican Republic for our honeymoon, just a few days after our wedding. A blissfully hot day, standing atop the cave cliff, hand-in-hand, we were ready to jump into the turquoise wishing well below–a Dominican tradition that would supposedly bless us with unbounded luck. His toes inched closer to the edge, while mine remained firm, locking into place as the whites of my knuckles came alive. My hesitation was two-fold. One, my straightened hair would soon become soggy and frizz would electrify it to its tips, and secondly, I hated the feeling of water up my nose. For thirty some years, I had somehow found it nearly impossible to jump into a body of water while simultaneously holding my breath. It never failed, be it in salt water or chlorine, I could never get my breaths timed just right, and would end up flailing above, gasping for air, hair stringing across my face like webs of a maniacal spider. It wasn’t just the hesitation of the jump that should’ve been a premonition as to the doomed marriage ahead of me. But it was more so what came after the jump.
3…
2…
1…
The cliff’s lifeguard counted down as my [ex]husband’s grasp drug me over the edge, sending us both plummeting some 25 feet to our, seemingly, cerulean deaths.
“Now!” I heard him say, letting go of my hand, and I trapped a breath so deep, I thought it would sink me to the depths of the cave.
Feet fluttering like frantic frogs and arms clawing toward the narrow slant of light, I whittled my way to the surface of the water, eager for the humid air to invade my lungs again. My eyes immediately searched for my [ex]husband, who hadn’t come up yet. Turbulently treading water, I spun myself around in two full circles, before I watched his perfectly-gelled spikes break through the water. While I expected complete exhilaration to overcome his face, his strikingly blue eyes were wide and full of panic. Without words, he simply held up his left hand. His wedding ring was gone.
Down into the dark depths of the Dominican waters, some bottom feeder probably coiled around it, looking up and evilly cackling at what awaited our marriage.
Bottom line: Listen to the signs. They may save you heartache in the long run.
Sincerely,
Britt
