Consequences

to cry, she exhaled and took the bait. “Why do I have my hiking boots?”
    “As a surprise for your birthday, I made reservations for Sunday and Monday night in the presidential suite of a very exclusive hotel inside Yosemite. I thought you would enjoy the Sierra Nevada Mountains and National Park. After last year, I didn’t want to miss celebrating your birthday.” His tone became stern. “However, instead of surprising you like I hoped, our romantic birthday getaway now rests in your hands.”
    Claire tried to follow his words, her hands? What did he mean?
    “If your memory isn’t failing, if you can remember my concerns and rules, and if you can obey the few requests I have made, then we will be able to keep the plans for your birthday. If, however, you are unable to handle your responsibilities I will have no choice but to cancel the reservations and we will concentrate on ways to help facilitate your memory for the future.” He stared at his wife as she sank to the edge of the bed. “What is your choice? You want to be a partner. Tell me what you want to do, go to Yosemite or go home and review appropriate behavior?” This was another of those offers you can’t refuse type questions.
    God she hated the dance. A blow to the cheek one minute and discussing a romantic getaway the next. It was the one step forward, two steps back waltz, she wanted to scream. Sitting on the side of the bed, she allowed herself tears and swallowed. Her voice revealed her distress, yet she tried to sound composed. “I’ve never been to Yosemite. I’ve heard it is beautiful. That sounds like a wonderful birthday.”
    Unmoved by her tears he stood waiting for a response to his question. Seeing her husband’s stare, feeling a too-familiar twinge of panic, Claire realized she hadn’t answered his question. “I’d like to go to Yosemite. I’ll do as you say.”
    He moved closer, took her hands, and helped her stand. Their chests touched as she looked up at his still too-dark eyes. She didn’t look away. “Claire, I do not want to break my promise, but at the risk of sounding repetitive, public failure is not an option.”
    “I understand. I’m sorry for making you break your promise. I will do better.”
     
    That night while lying in bed next to his sleeping wife, Tony remembered a scene from his childhood. It was one of many that shaped so many of his decisions.
    His grandfather’s booming voice, “Boy, you will not be joining us at dinner this evening.” Surprised. he noticed the absence of his place setting. Tony asked why. His grandfather didn’t speak but removed a letter from the breast pocket of his jacket. Tony retrieved the letter and unfolded the page. It was his grades from the last semester of classes. He’d taken seventeen credit hours, a very full load for a freshman. There were five A’s and one B+, in Calculus. That seemed good to him. He remembered still not comprehending his grandfather’s tone. “You plan to succeed in this world, boy?”
    “Yes, sir, I do.”
    “Then don’t let this happen again, failure has consequences. Perhaps some time alone eating in your suite will help you remember that perfection is the minimum requirement for success.” His grandfather then turned his eyes away and took a drink of his wine.
    “Nathaniel, perhaps he did his—” His grandfather’s dark eyes stopped his grandmother’s plea. She looked down at her plate. The subject was closed. Tony looked at his parents, they too were looking down.
    He remembered walking out of that dining room vowing to make him proud, it wasn’t easy. But today he believed that he had seized the opportunities and created others. If his grandfather were alive, which he should be, Tony believed he would be proud.
     
    The following morning, Tony left the apartment early to golf with friends. During her morning shower Claire noticed tenderness on her right arm. While drying she noticed a large purple hand print. Claire’s concern wasn’t that she endured her husband’s wrath, it was that the physical evidence was visible. She felt relieved to find that Catherine packed blouses with sleeves. She rationalized that if the purple bruise was seen it would break multiple rules: appearances and private information. Most importantly, Tony wouldn’t be happy. Thinking ahead, Claire checked her party dress, sleeveless.
    Once the ladies were all together, Claire summoned her brightest smile and asked, “So is anyone up for a