What if Azmir and I walk into this thing knowing every secret we’ve guarded, every demon that’s haunted us, every bone of the skeleton that makes up our pasts? There are so many things that I haven’t shared with him. So many details that remains in my nightmares, but I dare not speak of them in the light of day. As hypercritical as it may be, I need to counterpoise those secrets with a cleansing process that can only strengthen us in this monumental commitment we we’ve been embarking on.
I can’t lie and say I don’t feel a twinge of self-disappointment in that Azmir had to push my hand at this decision. It’s just that I could never ask him to make such a sacrifice when we aren’t even of the same belief system. I couldn’t have pushed his hand in this because this is personal. The renewing of my heart and mind has been my personal decision.
How lucky am I that I have a man who agrees to entertain my faith. Azmir said that if it would make me feel any better, instead of putting it out there officially, we can just use short-term goals to lead us up until the day. Secretly, I don’t know if we’ll make it a day, but I’ll roll with his idea and give it a try. We’ve gone extended periods before, but much of that was before living together.
Ironically, work assists with our commitment. Azmir’s travel picks up again. He’s barely home, and sometimes I wonder if it’s by design. We speak every day, most times several times a day. It’s become weird, but enjoyable to experience him over the phone. It’s like dating someone virtually. Because we have limited face-to-face time, the telephone and texting thing breathes new life into our communication. I’m learning more of what a day in the life of A.D. Jacobs is like far beyond what those weekly itinerary emails Brett sends over. Azmir’s truly a engineer. I also learn odd intimate facts such as when Azmir experienced his first orgasm with a girl and how he learned to find a woman’s G-spot. Yes, that type of conversation leaves me feverish.
The first two weeks of this commitment, Azmir stayed home about three nights and traveled the remainder. My workload changed in pace as well. In our monthly full staff meeting, Dan Smith announced his latest endeavor, which is working with scientists in creating state of the art prosthetics.
Dan believes it’s time to revolutionize the world of prosthetic medicine. And he proposes going all out with his new devices, starting with looking for funders, licensing, finalizing the patent, researching more limitations in prosthetic rehabilitation, product placement, profession buy-in, and all those things that one needs to bring a product to consumers. In doing this, Dan explained, he’ll be pulling back from attending and his typical academic obligations such as speaking engagements. The kicker was when he assigned extended roles to the room, mine being research for this venture and most of his presenting at conferences. This sucks considering I have to pull back from attending to accommodate his request. It reminds me of that scheduling nightmare I’d undergone after taking so much time off after losing Michelle.
Dance class always relieves stress for me. Jimmie cracks the whip during rehearsals for our next dance exhibit. We’ve been doing a dance interpretation for the Vagina Monologues with a group of readers from UCLA in February. It’s a different take on the historical production. My dance troop will do an interpretive dance to the reading that a student will recite. I’m assigned the Angry Vagina. It’s fun and I learn a lot about the many plights of women and the feminine experience.
Bible study continues with my subgroup. The girls are still obnoxious and outspoken, but everyone agrees about the messages. One thing that hasn’t change with this group of women is the stares and silent questions I get whenever we’re dismissed and John, my muscle, is waiting on me. I hate this guard dog thing like I do maxi pads. However, Azmir isn’t relenting on his decree back in the fall of me having security with me at all times. For the most part, John has faded into the back like wallpaper, like when I’m out shopping or in church where there’s lots of people around anyway. But at times like this, when his massive presence can’t be ignored, it’s an embarrassing annoyance.
When February arrives, I still haven’t decided on my wedding gown. I wake up at nearly four in the morning on a Wednesday with the revelation. I shoot right out of my bed, out of breath with “My wedding gown!” echoing in my brain. What woman remembers her wedding gown just three weeks before the day?
RAYNA! That’s who!
I immediately grab the cordless to call Azmir, who’s in Boston. It’s just before seven there, but I need a sounding board. I’m halfway sure that he’s awake and about his day.
“Yeah, baby?” he pants, obviously out of breath.
“What are you doing?” I nearly scream into the receiver. All types of frightening images running through my head.