My husband, Mark, is a good man; he's a strong man. When I needed him to step up with our kids as I finished dental school, he became our little family's rock without ever complaining or being bitter. He owned late-night feedings and diaper changes...
I walk into the hospital with a takeout bag filled with two BLTs, Hattie's fries, and soda from Hattie's Hat, a local historical dive bar and grill in the Seattle area. Mark called this morning begging for food other than hospital food. Due to not eating right for the past few months, the nurses have made sure he's eaten everything he's been ordered to eat by the doctor, which tasted like "licking the bathroom floor of a dive bar".
Mark's words, not mine.
As soon as he said "dive bar", I knew exactly where I'd go for food.
Hattie's Hat was the first place we ate at when we moved to Seattle. We entered the city late at night, and this place was only a few blocks from my apartment. We picked up two BLTs, fries, and sodas, and went to my vacant apartment. Mark set up a small blanket and pillows for us, where we ate, laughed, and talked about our future, a future we had no idea at the time would grow into something so beautifully chaotic.
It's one memory I can never seem to forget because we were so carefree then. It was a time before I started dental school, Mark hadn't started his new job yet, and we had no children. We were living on a whim with practically no responsibilities.
A few short weeks after that night, everything changed. He started work, I started school, and Charlie grew like a weed in my tummy while I fought morning sickness in class. Mark and I struggled to find time for each other, but we always seemed to make it work somehow. Or, should I say, he always seemed to make it work. I'm ashamed to say, it took me a long time to be fully on board with Mark. Not because I didn't love him, but because a part of me always held onto the fact that we were never supposed to be anything more than a fling, a part of me always thought he'd walk away. If it wasn't for Mark's persistence, determination, and consistency, we never would have made it.
And now it's my turn to show that same persistence, determination, and consistency.
So here I am. The savior to his day with a greasy paper bag filled with equally greasy, yet delicious, food in hand.
I'm feeling good today--better than I've felt in months. After our not-so-subtle display of affection last night, Doris escorted me out of the room declaring that visiting hours were promptly over and that my being there was a detriment to her patient because, and I quote, "his body has better uses for his blood at the moment than supplying his menial flagstaff". I could hear Mark's laughter and the other hospital staff's snickers as I made my walk of shame out of the emergency room.
It wasn't until I got into my car that I saw just how guilty I looked. My hair was ruffled rat's nest, my cheeks were red, and my lips were equally as kiss-plumped as Mark's. Even without Doris declaring our activities to the entire nursing staff, they'd know without question what Mark and I had been up to in that room.
What were we thinking?
Mark and I haven't been that daring for, well, ever. Not since before Millie was born. Sure, up until a few months ago, we still had a strong intimate life, but it was always planned and in the safety of a private room.
