A few hours later, Joshua’s hopefulness for the evening was beaten down bit by bit, the way the waves wear down the rock, as he watched the woman he loved fall deeper into herself every time she sensed him hold back.
The sat at The Wharf, a dingy seafood restaurant at the edge of the water and watched the sun fold into the horizon. As they sat holding hands, illuminated by the heartbreaking twilight, the truth hung between them like a wet buoy.
Isabelle needed more than he could give.
That had first became evident early in their relationship as he kissed her behind the dunes on a salty humid evening. She’d teased him into the dunes, drawing him in with her eyes, forceful and promising. And when they’d kissed, when the heat of her lips touched his, he felt himself succumb to her, sensed their souls connect. Her red curls whipped in the wind as their bodies moved in rhythm with the surf. She was primitive, his Isabelle, and he understood that she expected things from him, trusted him to give them to her.
“Isabelle,” he’d said under his breath as she pulled away.
“I’m sorry, Joshua. I don’t mean to tease you.”
He shook his head. “No, it’s not that. I understand your values. It’s just that…” He sighed in frustration, annoyed with himself because he couldn’t figure out how to share his feelings with her.
“I just can’t believe we’re here,” he finally said.
“What?” she asked, cocking her head in mock amazement. “Don’t tell me you’ve never kissed a girl on the beach.”
“No. I mean yes.” He shook his head. “But that’s not what I meant.” He took her face in his hands and longed to tell her how he felt. He watched the moonlight create sparks in her eyes, felt her begin to sway once again with the ocean. Drawing her in close, he whispered. “What I meant to say was…”
“Yes?” she said, the passion evident in her low, husky voice.
After struggling for a moment, he finally said, “I’m just glad you’re here.”
She pulled away again, searched his eyes for more and then nodded. “That’ll do for now.”
That had been the beginning of his hesitations, and over the past year he’d disappointed her more and more every day. He noticed too, that Isabelle, who had once been so open and full of hope, was pulling farther away from him and he knew it wouldn’t be long before the distance growing between them would simply overshadow their love for one another.
In the beginning of their relationship, Isabelle told Joshua she’d grown up in the church and those teachings shaped the way she lived her life. Joshua admitted that although God had never been a part of his life, he understood her convictions and would always support her. He even attended church with her most Sundays.
But no matter how much he wanted the life Isabelle imagined, he couldn’t find a way to commit—to Isabelle or to God. His past had a strangle hold on him and it prevented him from giving her what she needed. How am I supposed to give in to love after everything that’s happened? Or believe in a God who would destroy a little boy’s world in one afternoon?
But if he didn’t figure it out soon, he feared he would lose Isabelle. She believed in commitment and marriage and children, but Joshua had never imaged himself with that kind of life, never even wanted it until Isabelle had come floating into his life. He hated this fear that kept him from giving her what she needed, fought to keep it at bay, but the memories of his past, of loving and then losing so completely, were too powerful for him to defeat.
At the restaurant, Isabelle reached for his rough, waterlogged hands and cupped them in her own smooth ones. She rubbed her fingers over his slowly, thoughtfully, as if she were memorizing them, touching them for the last time. “I want to be with you, Joshua. I want to share your life and have a future together.”
She looked directly into his eyes, silently begging him to hear what she was trying to say. “But you’re making it difficult,” she said squeezed his hands tighter. “This past year with you has been wonderful, but I don’t understand why we’re not progressing, beginning to plan our future.”
“Isabelle, please be patient with me. I’m trying, I really am.”
She nodded. “I know you are. And I love you, but I can’t keep hoping for something that might never happen.” She waited for him to respond. When he didn’t, she continued. “I need to understand your intentions toward me so I can decide what to do with my life.” She sat back, hoping he would finally give himself to her, set things right.
Joshua was momentarily blinded by the expectation in her eyes. Blue-green eyes that blended with the ocean on a sunlit day. He wanted to tell her that each passing moment of everyday he thought of her, felt her smooth hands in his own, listened to her voice rise and fall in the wind. But he didn’t. Couldn’t. Instead he pulled back his hands and picked up the plastic menu.
“I know we need to talk,” he said, handing her a menu of her own. “Why don’t we wait until after we eat?”
Her face fell then, and he watched her try to pretend it was okay. She began to do what they always did when he couldn’t open up to her emotionally: talk about the small, insignificant things that had gone on that day while ignoring the pressing matters of the heart. And as they spoke, as they talked around what truly needed to be said, Joshua listened to the buzz of regret sounding in his ears.