The One Word I Never Said

Two college students - kids, really -  laid on the floor, hashing over their future once again.  It involved two continents, the end of a Bachelor's Degree and the beginning of a Masters, and a lot of anxiety about soulmates. 

I have to know.  I just have to KNOW, you know.  What are we trying to do here?

I love you, Kirsten.  I'll do whatever you want to do. I just know that I want to marry you.
 
Well that's all well and good, but how can you SAY that without KNOWING what we're going to DO  next year?  (What can I say? I'm a girl who likes to know The Plan.)  I just have to KNOW what it is we're planning on.  I mean, how can you say you KNOW you want to marry me but you don't KNOW when?  How?  Where?

and so on.  Around and around and around we went that night - a quiet December night in suburbia - two kids laying on the floor in my childhood bedroom.   We were either headed far apart, or headed for together from here on out.

What I remember was my voice, growing in stridency as I demanded to KNOW what was going to happen.  I wanted to KNOW how he was so sure of himself.  I remember, actually, feeling increasingly irritated with his implacability.

And finally, there was this:  Well Kirsten, then let's just get married.  Let's just get married.

This stopped me short.  I was mid-sentence - in full stride with theoreticals, full of planning, full of options.  I hadn't expected that phrase - not at all.

And just like a sail going limp on a calm sea, my words stopped.  I turned over on my elbow and demanded to know if he was serious.  Demanded.

Of course, he said simply.  Of course I'm serious.

There was no ring.  There was no elaborately crafted proposal speech.  There were no harps on the mountain at dawn, there was not even a down-on-one-knee.   We were barely adults, barely launched in the world, and all we knew was that we were going to head out into the void together.

We stared at each other - astounded that such a momentous decision had been made in the Laura Ashley chintz-covered bedroom of my teen years - and were absolutely certain that no other decision could have been made that night.

We went to the movies then, saw the Harrison Ford version of Sabrina, and came home giggling about the fact that he'd have to ask my dad for his blessing.

It wasn't until I was falling asleep that night that I realized:  the one word I never said was Yes.

Yes, Nilsen - for every night since then, I say Yes.

*****

This post is linked as part of the final prompt - YES - in Momalom's Five for Ten series.