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“Yes. Your memory is infallible, as always.”

She tilted her head and gave me a long look. “So, you want to have an island honeymoon? Beaches, sand, and sun? Again?”

“Hear me out,” I said, lifting a hand. “The Cook Islands are an ideal location for our honeymoon for multiple reasons. The most important being they are exceptionally remote. There are fifteen islands with only fifteen thousand people total living on them. They are two thousand miles from any significant land mass and have great weather this time of year. There are only a handful of resorts on Rarotonga, and I’m willing to bet no resident there has ever read theWashington Post. In fact, the United States only just established diplomatic relations with them.”

“I’m following, and I see the attractive logic in that approach,” she said. “How big is Rarotonga?”

“Twenty-six square miles, with highlands and a couple of peaks in the middle, and a ring road around the island.”

“What’s there to do?”

“Not much,” I admitted. “There are beaches, snorkeling, and boating, but the best part is the island has a reputation for being off-the-grid andveryquiet. No major landmarks or museums, and few tourists flock there because there are no big cultural or scenic draws. It’s basically a remote, little-known island in the middle of the ocean where no one will know or care who we are. We can do whatever we want, whenever we want, and only if we want to.”

She sighed happily. “I wish I’d thought of that. It sounds perfect for us. Just the two of us with nothing to do but relax, engage in some romance, and simply be with each other. It’sexactlywhat we need. You hit it out of the park, Slash. It’s perfect.”

“I think no matter what we choose, we’re going to be happy. In fact, the more I think about it, the more I’m leaning toward Chile. Two weeks of doing nothing may be too much of a stretch for us.”

“So, how do we decide which option is the best?” She lifted her hands. “We have Chile and the Cook Islands. Remote beaches versus the wilds of Patagonia. Multiple sights to see or no sights at all. Celebrity-level pampering or wine from a bottle on a beach.”

“You choose. I’d be happy with either option,cara.”

“Oh, no, you don’t.” She shook her head vigorously. “You’re not putting this decision on me. We’re married now, and the marriage code says we must share in all big decisions.”

“Marriage code?” I repeated. I hadn’t seen that one coming. “Hold on. What code are we talking about? Is there really such a thing as a marriage code?”

She looked surprised I wasn’t aware of this. “Well, not exactly a code, but more like rules. There are thousands of guidelines and rules that, if you follow them, will supposedly lead you to a successful marriage.”

I opened my mouth to say something and then shut it. After another few beats, I opened it again to ask a more specific question. “So, we’re following marriage rules now?”

“Not rules. A code.” The candle in the center of the table flickered, casting a slight shadow on her face. “I’ve been doing a lot of research on marriages around the world, determining how people from different backgrounds and cultures create successful and thriving marriages. It’s fascinating, really. From Africa to Asia to South and North America to Europe—and honestly everywhere—I’ve discovered that marriage is basically a set of rules devised by couples and reinforced by society. Those rules are different depending on your cultural, religious, and personal preferences. But after researching all these different rules, I felt they weren’t the right foundation for determining the success of a marriage, at least for us. After all, rules can be bent or broken—for good or bad, depending on the situation—so rules didn’t seem an accurate way to determine, or even encourage, the stability and progress of a marriage. So, I’ve been writing a marriage code for us, instead. Consider it a blueprint of sorts, unique to us, with a specific set of directions and design to lead us to the optimum output which is, of course, marital bliss.”

Her mind was truly a wondrous thing. I was riveted by this unexpected turn in the conversation. “A marriage code,” I repeated slowly, leaning forward on the table. “I see. So, if we follow this marriage code that you’re creating just for us, it will give us a perfect marriage?”

“No, not exactly, but it will help.” She leaned back in the chair. “I’m picturing it like this—marriage is similar to a programming language. Everyone starts with the basics: functions, data types, variables, operators, control structures, and syntax. But that doesn’t tell youhowto write good code. Good programmers learn both from studying and experiencing their mistakes. Since we are distinctive in our values, personalities, and cultural and religious backgrounds, I’m factoring that in as I create a specific outcome unique to us, with as few mistakes as possible.”

I stroked my chin, thinking. “Not a bad concept. So, you’re programming our marriage?”

She picked up the napkin off her lap and began to wind it around her finger. “In a way, I suppose, but as we both know, we’ll have to adapt to numerous unforeseen variables and inconsistencies in the code as we go along. Primarily, the code is supposed to be a general guide for us—a collection of keywords, actions, insights, and attitudes that determine how a couple’s relationship works. From this, we can anticipate certain outcomes, expected results, and degrees of success, thereby adjusting our actions and behaviors accordingly.”

God, I loved this woman with the very core of my being. “Have you started a spreadsheet yet?”

She gave me a look which meant I should already know the answer. And I did. I just wanted to hear her say it.

“Of course I have. And one of the most important elements of my code so far is shared decisions. So, we’re making the important decision—the location of our honeymoon—jointly. A mutual decision, as supported by the marriage code, designed to strengthen our bond. So, keeping that in mind, what’s your vote for our honeymoon location?”

I pretended to think for a moment, even though I’d already made up my mind. “I vote for your plan. Patagonia.”

“And I choose your plan,” she countered. “The Cook Islands. Which leaves us with no agreement.”

I observed her for a moment. I knew she sincerely wanted us to make the right choice, even though both options were excellent. I abruptly leaned across the table and kissed her.

“What’s that for?” she said, wrinkling her nose in puzzlement.

“I adore you. Absolutely, utterly adore you.”

She looked at me suspiciously. “Are you trying to distract or sway me from my decision?”

I chuckled. “No, not at all. Just stating a fact. Now, since we both agree we have two outstanding options and cannot agree on which one is better, I propose we leave our honeymoon destination to chance, unless that’s against the code.”