They would go out to the same restaurant at the same time and order the same red wine. They would talk about his boring week at the accounting office and spend a fortune eating art on their plates and then go back to her flat and have sex. Yes sex. It wasn’t making love anymore. Antonia realized that now as she looked back on the last year of their relationship.
She sighed as the orange taxi came to a stop in front of her front steps. She got out and swayed a little on her feet. Good, she thought, the wine has settled in. She had purposely drank more wine than usual to get her through the next two hours.
It would be the same as always, she would unlock the door and he would settle himself on the couch while she went and got another bottle of wine that really would only be opened to breathe because it was forgotten in his haste to have her then and there on the couch.
She followed this routine until she opened the bottle of Merlot. She poured herself a full glass and drank it down letting its heat warm her and engulf her senses. She poured another in her own and in his too, straightened her shoulders and walked from her tiny kitchen out into the living room.
Just as she had known when she set the wine flutes down he had pulled her into his arms and began kissing and caressing her. She sighed again out of the monotony. Greg miss took it as a sigh of pleasure and squeezed her plump breast unusually hard making her wince.
When he brought his lips again to hers he whispered sweet nothings before savagely covering her own. To Antonia it was all ‘nothing’ now, no romance, no joy, no excitement. As it was he was going to want her completely in a moment and she was dry as a bone. It was time to put a stop to this now.
“Greg,” she moaned through his crushing lips, “Greg, stop. Stop!” He pulled away from her slightly and looked at her confused.
“What is it darling?” he asked eyeing her worriedly.
He should be worried she thought. “Greg, I can’t do this any more. It’s not right.”
“You’re right, love. I should have asked this long ago.” He stuck his hand in his pocket and pulled out a little blue velvet box. Antonia knew what that was and stiffened at the coming proposal.
“What are you doing?” she asked.
“What do you think I’m doing? Will you, Antonia Josephine Birkoff, marry me?” he asked with a broad smile spread across his face.
“No.” It was all she had to say. She pulled away from his grasp and walked to the bay window and looked out over Sydney Bay. She didn’t want to marry him or anyone else for that matter. If she married him it would interfere with her job at the university. He would want to have children right away and that would mean less and less hours at work as the children grew up needing more and more of her time. She didn’t want children, she didn’t want to get married, and she didn’t want him.
“What do you mean no. I thought we had talked about this Antonia.” Greg had gotten up of the couch and come to stand behind her.
“No, Greg, you talked about it. You were the one wanting to get married, not me. I’ve never wanted to get married.”
“What, at all, or just not to me?”
She could see his reflection in the window and felt a little sorry for him. They had been dating since high school and hadn’t ever dated anyone else. “Ever Greg. Marriage isn’t suited for everyone and I’m in that category.”
“Well I, I guess I should be going then.” She could see him picking up his suit jacket and his over coat and as he walked further from the window his reflection became less and less defined. Just how she wanted it.
When the door click softly shut she turned around to see the ring box still sitting on the coffee table. Oh well she thought, if he wanted to leave a two thousand dollar ring for her that was just fine.
She picked up her wine flute and brought in its heady fragrance and sipped it gently savoring her freedom at long last.