The sun had just begun to set and the light was slowly fading. We walked down the beach, barefoot, the smooth sand rubbing against our feet. Conor walked next to me holding my hand. Neither of us spoke. The moment was too beautiful to ruin with the chaos of conversation. But the silence wasn't awkward. We stared at the crashing waves, and at the sun sinking below the waves, turning the sky red and orange and pink. It was beautiful. The beach was practically empty, which was unusual in Naples, Florida. Usually, tourists and vacationers lined the beach next to the peer, swimming into the night, and tanning and relaxing in the day. But, for some reason, we were alone, except for a few spread out couples strolling the beach in the same manner as we were.
We had been walking for probably fifteen minutes when I saw the first glimpse of the blanket. There was a pink blanket laid out on the sand, and rose petals scattered over it. A quart of mint chocolate chip ice cream was in the middle of the blanket, with two china bowls next to it. There was a sign written in calligraphy that read, "Alison, I love you. Will you marry me?" The writing was red with rose petals surrounding the entire sign. It was beautiful. I clasped my hands over my mouth and my eyes began to water. I reached toward Conor, but he wasn't there. I turned around, only to find him on one knee behind me, holding up a glittering diamond ring.
I couldn't manage to produce words, but I nodded. He blushed and smiled, and without saying a word, he put the ring on my finger. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him. Still without working vocal cords, I sat down and he opened the ice cream and scooped it into the bowls. As I ate it, I was so in awe at this moment that I couldn't taste the mint at all. I didn't speak again until I said goodbye to Conor that night. I didn't even tell my mother, I just stuck out my hand for her to see. Naturally, she already knew.
I lay in my bed that night, unable to sleep. I didn't want to close my eyes, because if I did, I would wake up from this beautiful dream. When I finally did sleep, though, I had a nightmare that I hadn't thought about in ages.
I was about three years into the future, and I was celebrating my one year anniversary with Conor. We were sitting in a fancy restaurant, drinking wine, and eating filet mignon. I was laughing, and he was saying something to me. I blushed and then smiled and looked at the floor. Then, time fast forwarded and we were in a house. I assumed it was ours. There was a baby, a little girl, and her name was Emily. I just knew it was. I put her to bed and then I went downstairs and say on a leather couch and turned on a tv. Conor came out of the kitchen and looked at me in a way I knew all too well. We were fighting.
"I suppose you bought the new crib today?" He asked.
"Yeah, it was, um, on sale, too, so I actually bought some other little things too. I got myself a new purse, for one thing, and I bought you that jacket you wanted. There were also some earring that looked fantastic so-"
"Ali! You can't keep spending all our money like this! I don't really have unlimited income and you currently have none."
"Conor, I went ten dollars over what I planned to spend! That would be like buying a book!" I exclaimed.
"Well, if the crib was on sale, you could have saved the extra cash and put it away. To use for, I don't know, the mortgage?"
"We would have used it anyways!" I said, less aggressively than I had hope for.
"But, Alison! You can't expect us to have money to spend constantly! We have a house, a daughter and another on the way! It's not like you can just spend money left and right! Unless you want unbearable debt!" His words stung more than they should have, and I began to cry. He rolled his eyes and walked away.
"The world shouldn't revolve around your job and your money! When was the last time you sat and played with Emily?" I shouted after him, then slouched back onto the couch and turned on bad reality TV. The argument hadn't been as bad as usual; we had made a promise not to swear anymore because of the baby, who would soon begin to understand.
Time fast forwarded again and this time we were in a court, and I was crying. I was holding a baby boy named Carter, and Emily, who was probably two, was standing next to me. We were filing for divorce. That was when I woke up.
Shaking, I gasped, and sat up in bed. The ring was still on my finger, but the previously nonexistent doubt was growing in my mind. What if we divorced like my parents? I couldn't stand another ruined relationship. I never saw my father anymore, and he was remarried, with a daughter two years younger than me named Lauren, who I had met only once. She seemed painfully spoiled. Now, she was nineteen and in college somewhere in California. It was somewhere horribly expensive, but Lauren got whatever she wanted. I, personally, was surprised that she wasn't at Harvard, but I assumed that she wasn't academically skilled enough to make it to a school of that caliber.
If I screwed up my relationship with Conor, I knew I would never love again. Therefore, I wasn't going to do anything that could possibly screw up a relationship. And if I did, I would definitely not handle it the way that my dream-self did.
