"Do things ever turn out the way you think they will?" he murmured, trying to reclaim his comfortable position on the mattress, wondering at the road to this place in his life and the choices he'd made. Jill murmured a sleepy 'Hmm?' from her pillow on the far side of the vast comforter-laded brass posted bed.

Angry. He'd been angry the first time he saw the bed. The width had filled the tiny one-room apartment and overpowered the rest of the furniture in its ostentatious grandeur.

Jill, oblivious to his mood, had slipped by as he stood, completely dismayed by the addition and its message of permanence. "Isn't it fantastic?" she said, bouncing on the edge. She rolled to the far edge and, resting her chin on her hands, gazed out the window. "I love lying in bed and being able to see out."

Yeah, he thought, just what I would look for in a bed. The brass shone in the garish brilliance of the single overhead light through the cheap plastic lampshade. He couldn't speak, his tongue tied with so many biting words and his mind tied with the implications of her buying such a thing.

They could barely meet the rent. Her job, at the campus bookstore, paid for her books and food. Night shift at the Kwik-Stop and his mom's frequent donations of a couple twenties took care of his needs and the car.

Why would she spend so much — God knew how much — on this white elephant? All they'd needed was a frame, something to see them through a couple years. How could she justify this now?

"My grandma sent me some money. She said to buy something that would last."

Last? Hell, who knew if the relationship would last? He hadn't mentioned marriage and neither had she. But she bought a bed to 'last'. A king-sized brass four-poster bed inferred commitment and a certain kind of life-style choice. A commitment he wasn't ready to pursue, a lifestyle choice he wasn't prepared to make. Hadn't even lived much yet, how could a choice be made?

She snuggled down into the too-small blankets. Her rump attracted his eyes, distracting him in the way she wiggled. Jill turned over and stretched her arms as far as she could reach. His imagination painted in four bright scarves, tethering her to the posts.

"Don't you love it?" Jill's eyes held a calmly measuring look, part invitation and part question.

"A bed is a bed," he said, carefully. The firm mattress felt welcoming when he joined her on the monstrosity for a test-drive.

The bed became a joke among their friends — a blatantly out-of-place luxury item in their rummage sale world — and the centerpiece of the sly comments about his prowess in the 'Arena of Love'. Jill would smile and return the banter with quips about TKO in the second round or something similar. The scarves were laughed at in a nasty way, but Jill never seemed worried or angry about the opinions or remarks.

The bed was the one piece of furniture that always got moved — from studio to apartment, from condo to rental, from starter to family-home. Through rougher times of lay-offs and downsizing, to the fat days of 401K's and Keoghs, the bed served as a place to hide or as a setting for the finest sort of celebration.

A bed is a bed, and some things are built to last, he thought. The bed was still the center of their life together and he hoped that fact would never change.

Jill blew a good-morning kiss over the tousled heads of the kids and the baby, and then slipped out of bed, heading for the bathroom and the kitchen The dog groaned and adjusted as Rick slid his sidewalk-chilled feet back under the comforter and flannel sheets. The cat stretched and jumped up to the windowsill to watch the birds at the back-yard feeder.

"What did you say? Before?" Jill asked, handing him a mug of chai-tea.

Rick pulled out the financial section and handed the sports to his wife. "Hmmm? Oh. I was thinking about when you bought this brass monster. Remember the scarves?" He laughed. "I had no idea I'd still be lying in it so many years later. I wondered if things ever work out the way you think they will."

Pausing with her hands ready to open the Sunday Paper, Jill looked at him in that calmly measuring way. She smiled, the light in her eyes shining for him as warmly as it ever had, and said,

"Yes."