Gratitude

Morning saw us packing, eating a final breakfast of room service, and promptly at 1 P.M. meeting Lawrence in the lobby. He was cheery as he loaded our luggage into the limo.

"Did you have a good time, Master Michael?"

"Lots of fun, Lawrence. Mr. Landau was overly generous."

"Was Miss Cynthia good company?"

"Absolutely. I suspect we'll be seeing a lot of each other in the future."

"Mr. Landau has instructed me to request that you and your family join them for a barbecue this Sunday. I am to telephone him with a response, which he hopes will be positive."

The Yiddish expression for in-laws is machatonim, which is what my parents and Cyndi's were acting like by the middle of the barbecue. I said to Cyndi, "I wonder if they've already got the wedding date picked out?"

She laughed. She was wearing a pink sun dress, a marked contrast from the eff-me outfits she had been wearing all the previous week. As she leaned over to kiss me, she breathily said, "I wouldn't be upset if they did."

Mr. Landau's continued generosity knew no bounds. He insisted on paying my college tuition. He bought me a new car. One day in the fall, several large packages arrived at my front door. I suddenly found myself staring at two Status all-graphite bass guitars – one four-string, red, and a five-string, gold. The larger boxes contained a Hartke amplifier and two sizable cabinets. The enclosed note read, "If you're a musician, you should have the best equipment available to you. A friend who plays bass tells me that this amplifier rig is an exact duplicate of the system Jack Bruce used at the Cream reunion last year. The basses are supposed to be the best on the market. I didn't know if you played four or five strings. So I just got you both. Enjoy, Donald"

I shook my head in wonder.

I KNOW that Cyndi's father pulled some strings to get me assigned to a good city high school right out of college. He paid for my Master's degree as well. Of course, Cyndi's and my relationship blossomed and matured as we continued going out and getting to know each other better. There was never even a thought about another girl. Why should there be? I already had the whole package – beautiful, smart, funny, considerate, kind to the important people in my life, devoted to her friends and family.

And an absolute animal in bed. That didn't diminish even slightly after our amazing, whirlwind week.

I know that Cyndi was slightly disappointed that I didn't propose to her on her 21st birthday, but that was deliberate. I had told her father that I wanted to complete my Master's program and finish my probation at work before taking on the responsibility of a wife. He agreed that it made perfect sense.

When I did finally propose – at a party thrown by Cyndi's parents to celebrate my Master's degree and with all of our family and friends in attendance – it was with a ring using a diamond that had once been in Cyndi's great-grandmother's engagement ring.

The wedding was a high-society affair. Much of New York's elite turned out for it. I can't begin to describe how it felt to have the reception in the same hotel where Cyndi and I had once romped naked in the swimming pool and on the balcony. She absolutely melted when I joined the band on bass, strapped on a headset mike, and sang the Eagles' "Love Will Keep Us Alive" on one knee in front of her.

Our two-weeks-long honeymoon to Hawaii was, seemingly, one long fucking session. I think the only reason we sat in the sun the last three days was to get enough of a tan to convince everyone that we'd actually been someplace. The highlights were our visit to Pearl Harbor, the helicopter ride over Kilauea – and the night we spent pounding each other into the sand on our own private beach, with the Pacific waves providing a soundtrack.

Her father had our three-bedroom ranch-style home all ready for us by the time we got back from the honeymoon. It had a large basement that I could use as an office and a music room (eventually we stocked the room up with instruments and a PA system and hosted a weekly jam session), plus a side apartment that Cyndi could use for the nanny we would hire for our children, as she was planning to continue her career and eventually take over her father's company. She showed herself to have a wise head for business, and we soon found that our combined salary was more than enough to sustain us comfortably, without ever having to touch the $5 million she'd inherited.

As I type this, Cyndi is leaning over my shoulder and peering at the words on the laptop. She licked my ear and asked, "Are you writing about us? Make sure you include all the good parts!" It's hard for her to lean too much nowadays, as she is extremely gravid, our son due any day. I look at her, and she positively glows with the joy of expectant motherhood.

Her secondary concern, after the health of our impending newborn, seems to be when we can get down to the business of trying to make the second one.