Free A Cup of Comfort for Couples by Colleen Sell

about each other, and I can’t always tell what he’s thinking. I am in love and thrilled that our relationship is so easy.
    We’ve both arranged for the same vacation time and have planned our first trip together. Our itinerary is to drive through New York State to Niagara Falls, then up to Toronto, south through the Thousand Islands area, and back to New Jersey through the Finger Lakes. I’m thinking of it as a romantic adventure with Sam; Sam is looking at it as a pre-honeymoon, and I miss all the signals.
    I have not yet developed the intuition of a wife or mother. That comes with time and stretch marks. I know nothing about signs, hunches, or gut feelings. Things don’t gnaw at me yet. Things don’t play themselves over and over in my mind until I have to wake Sam in the middle of the night because something pissed me off six hours earlier. That will come later. Now, Sam has a plan, and I’m lost in dense fog as we head north to our winter wonderland.
    When we leave for our trip, snow is piled on the side of roads and salt stains are on cars. Our heavy jackets are thrown onto the back seat, and the heater is roaring inside the car. Yet, I am so oblivious to Sam’s plan that traveling north in the winter to Canada where it is cold doesn’t even make me raise an eyebrow. We are headed in the general direction of Niagara Falls. Our plan is to drive through the New York side and then to Niagara Falls, Ontario. Sam is driving; I’m navigating.
    For the record, Niagara Falls are blow-your-eardrums-out loud. As you approach Niagara Falls, you can hear the thunder of water pushing off a mountain and crashing onto the rocks below. They are raging loud. Imagine trying to talk while a subway screams past you in your living room. I have read that people who are deaf can feel Niagra’s vibrations.
    When Sam pulls over and says I picked the wrong turn-off, I tell him I didn’t.
    He sits there with Niagara Falls booming behind him and screams, “You missed the turn! You are not always right, you know!”
    I look up from the map, amazed. “Don’t you hear anything?” I scream calmly.
    â€œGive me the map,” he says.
    â€œYou are ridiculous,” I reply, cupping my hands over my ears.
    â€œYou know, I was going to propose to you this week, but I don’t think I can live with such a know-it-all,” he mumbles, loud enough for me to hear.
    Five minutes later, we are driving past Niagara Falls and Sam is saying, “I knew we were almost here.”
    In the winter, Niagara Falls has a different appearance than it does on postcards and in travel brochures. The water freezes, forming beautiful ice creations on many precipices. There are also no tourists — except us.
    Something else is very different, too. Now I know Sam’s ulterior motive for the trip. Sam has, in his moment of moronic rage, spilled the beans. I’m not sure if Sam remembers what he said in his side-of-the-road temper tantrum, but I certainly do. Suddenly, to me, this trip is different. Before, I was traveling with my boyfriend, my roommate, my best friend. Now I’m with someone who wants to live with me for better or for worse, forever after, until death us do part. Before I was relaxed; now I’m wheezing.
    We check into our motel. On the surface, everything looks acceptable. It looks clean and things match. I am afraid to look under the bed. I will not stretch out on the carpet to do my sit-ups, but walking across it doesn’t seem to be too disgusting as long as I have on shoes.
    As I get farther into the room, I notice the picture over the bed, a print of a hill and a field, and in the distance Niagara Falls. It makes sense that they put a picture of Niagara Falls in a room near Niagara Falls. I’m imagining the exact same picture hangs in every room in this motel when I notice something strange about our picture — dirt or something is in the field below