“Tina…? Maybe we can still take that trip to Providence in two years if you’re up to it.  Perhaps we’ll finally make it to Cape Cod then.” 

I knew immediately what she meant. 

We’d taken a trip to New England about a year into our relationship.  We had a chance to visit Connecticut, as she’d been a proud graduate of Yale.  The real intention of the trip’s itinerary was to visit with a close friend of hers, from college and graduate school.  She lived in Rhode Island and was recently having some health problems. 

We’d meant to drive to Cape Cod after seeing her but consequently become pressed for time given they had enjoyed reminiscing about past adventures. 

I too was reluctant to depart as it provided a window to her life and I wanted to breathe in everything about her history.  Their planned excursions southward to New York or northward to Boston.  Visiting galleries, exhibits of interest or simply for amusement. 

Before we knew it, we didn’t have time left to spend anywhere else.  Our busy schedules at work all too soon demanding our return.

So instead of forcing an abrupt stay elsewhere, we took the remaining time to enjoy local sights and the appeal in the renaissance of the waterside walkways along the river.  

Even enjoying a romantic gondola ride relishing in our time together.  It was then an earlier and happier agreement was made.

“T?  In ten years, wherever we are, lovers” then leaning in to my ear jokingly whispered, “or just friends, if we haven’t yet completed our trip to Cape Cod, we should come back.  If anything, just to remember we were once here and completely in love” she’d suggested.

She obviously wanted confirmation of my outlook regarding our commitment to each other. 

Not rising to the bait rendered by the idea of us not being a couple at the milestone awaiting us, fueled by my solemn belief in the promise of still being together I responded, “It’s a date.”

I’d added quickly in the sexiest voice I could muster, “Definitely as lovers, we’ll be back.  Then again in twenty.”  

I’d been thoroughly kissed in response to my declaration.

Since then, it has served as a warm memory of expectations inspired by the stalwart attraction and undeniably striking affection toward each other, seemingly impregnable even by time.  Seemingly. 

Friends or lovers we’d agreed. Well we weren’t the latter anymore. Could we be just friends?

Indeed, our past deserved acknowledgment and recognition somehow. Despite everything unresolved between us, if she was willing, so was I.  

“Yeah, maybe we will.”  With that, we went our separate ways.