We sat in the hotel lounge listening to an angelic black man playing and singing the blues. His demeanor and tone were appropriate for a yuppified vacation spot that probably didn't want to feel the real thing, but he seemed satisfied and cool. Donna sipped her cognac and I looked at my empty glass, dragging on a cigarette-- a habit long forgotten, but remembered while on this honeymoon.

Donna glanced over, afraid to see my expression, "He's good."

"Yeah, he is," I said not removing my eyes from the empty glass. "I'm going to get another at the bar."

"The waitress will be back. I think you're supposed to order from her. For her tip."

"I'll be back in a minute." I said, ignoring my new wife as if what she said blew away in a puff of wind before it I could hear it. But I did hear it and felt her hurt upon my dismissal, which made me cringe and hate her even more.

At the bar I shot back a cognac, then brought another back to the table. "The bartender said it was cool to order from the bar." I said,attending her concern. She nodded, but was pissed.

"I'm going to bed, Greg."

"All right, I'll be up in a minute. Just got to finish my drink."

She stood and looked down at me while I pulled another cig out of the red pack. "Greg, I'm sorry this is such a difficult experience for you. It's not what I wanted." Her eyes started to water.

"Hey, it's not difficult. It's just that...I never thought...I just got to get used to it. Please don't cry."

"I can't help it."

"Just let me smoke this and I'll be up and we'll talk and..."

"Sure." She said hoping, but not expecting.

My heart sunk as she left. The waitress came by and I ordered another. One more would do it I thought, then I could get through it. I could touch her and love her and let her love me. Shit, why were things so impossible?

An hour had gone by before I entered our suite. I hoped she wasn't asleep yet, because that would just mean silence in the morning. Might as well talk it over now while we were tired. Maybe it won't get too deep.

I slipped my jacket off and threw it on the couch and opened the white slatted door leading to the bedroom where confrontation waited, but since my head tingled, I knew I was prepared and protected.

She was propped up on many pillows reading BREAKFAST AT TIFFANY'Sand I laughed at the irony.

"How many cigarettes did you smoke?"

"A few more. Sorry, I was just thinking."

"Yeah, about what?" She said as she lay the book on the night stand.

I sat on the edge of the bed next to her and caught her eyes. "Do you know you're eyes are not just green, but they have specks of blue around the edges? Did you ever notice that?"

"No. Greg, are you that miserable?"

"I'm not. I'm...just scared." This was a favorable answer for her. Now she could take care of me.

"Of me? You're scared of me?"

"No baby, not of you, but of the whole damn thing. I can only handle a little at a time."

She leaned in and kissed my forehead. "Can you handle that?"

"Yes."

She kissed my dry lips. "That?" She said seductively."Yes," I said as I wet my lips and kissed her back, hard. I pressed my body against hers sending her on her back and we made love.

I succeeded by climaxing and hoped that she took precautions. It was another thing to add to the list that we never talked about and I hoped we would never have to.