What a Bad Hotel Room Taught Me About My Marriage

It’s funny what counts as hardship before you’ve seen any. Before anything real goes wrong.

When our kids were young, we went on spring break in Florida, and a driver smashed us into a garage pylon. Trish’s seatbelt split her colon in half. I held her hand in the ICU in disbelief. “But we’re on vacation,” I said, unable to comprehend the situation.

Years later, I told Trish that I needed to get open-heart surgery. Telling her was harder than hearing the news myself. “All right, let’s do it,” she said, like it was just one of those things we do together. We got through that, too.

After 30 years, you learn what matters and what doesn’t. We aren’t glued to each other’s sides, but we’re happiest when we are.

On our last night in New York, Trish came back from work around six, and we met at the dark hotel bar — a bright spot of the property — and compared our days. She loves her job. I’m happy for her. Proud too. She had to write a few last-minute work emails before dinner. I sipped a gin cocktail named Last Word and felt an essay coming on.

We walked through Manhattan, sometimes holding hands, sometimes not. She wanted to go to a cocktail bar called the Rum House, and I put the directions into my phone. She looked at me suspiciously when we arrived. I had accidentally put in the King Cole Bar at the St. Regis hotel, where I wanted to go before we agreed on the Rum House. It was a complete accident, and she believed me. I told her we could take a taxi over, but she said it was fine.

The bar was packed, but a bellman found us a table. I looked at the couples around us, knowing they’d go upstairs to their luxury beds later, while I’d be on a lumpy mattress a few miles away. I reminded Trish how I’d complained in Colorado about sleeping on the ground while everyone else slept in a bed. We laughed over our martinis.

On the way home, we talked about the kids, and we stopped for a couple of slices at Upside Pizza. A cute couple sat at a nearby table. They were flirty, but also a little performative, like they were playing “most fun person to date.” It looked like a lot of work. The young woman laughed at everything the young man said.

Trish laughs at all of my jokes, too. But at least I know when her chuckles are real and when she just wants me to feel good. Both work.

We walked back to the hotel, discussing our upcoming trip to Madrid. She assured me the accommodation was nicer. No wall spoons.

We turned off the light and kissed goodnight. We sank into the mattress. Within a minute, I heard deep breathing next to me.

I put my Kindle down and listened to her breathe.

I’d have preferred the Four Seasons.

But this was fine.

More than fine.

 AARP essays share a point of view in the author’s voice, drawn from expertise or experience, and do not necessarily reflect the views of AARP.