{"id":6149,"date":"2019-08-19T11:37:26","date_gmt":"2019-08-19T15:37:26","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/?p=6149"},"modified":"2019-08-19T11:37:27","modified_gmt":"2019-08-19T15:37:27","slug":"chapter-9","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/?p=6149","title":{"rendered":"Chapter 9"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/p>\n

By the end of the summer, Neil had a job as Transport Manager for the peacekeeping operation at Zagreb headquarters. Each morning he proudly dressed in the khaki colored military style uniform UNPROFOR civilian staff members were now expected to wear. The night before, he\u2019d iron the shirt and slacks and shine his shoes as he\u2019d been taught during his days in the British Army. Neil arrived early to his job, reveling in the responsibility and visibility of managing a staff of drivers for the fleet of UN cars in Zagreb. His desk was neat and organized and decorated with UN paraphernalia and plaques from countries in the mission \u2013 from Jordan to Nepal. He swaggered around the base like he managed the entire mission, teasing everyone from high-ranking UN personnel to the local cleaning staff, as he made one of his many trips to get coffee from the cafeteria or grab a cigarette in the courtyard. The vibrant man I\u2019d fallen for in Sarajevo was back.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

Unlike Neil, I was glad I was able to dodge the new UNPROFOR uniform requirement. I had landed a new job at the UNICEF, a humanitarian program supporting women and children. After months of paper pushing in the press office, I hoped as a field officer in the Serb held parts of Croatia, I\u2019d finally feel like I was making a difference. My new office was on the opposite side of the city from UNPROFOR. I loved the 30-minute walk from our apartment each morning choosing different side streets, crossing cobblestone avenues and dodging speeding trams as I breathed deeply, smiling at strangers and myself about how perfect my life felt.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

We\u2019d also moved into a gorgeous apartment in a small house at the top of 100 steep steps that left us huffing and puffing by the time we crossed the threshold. We were rewarded by an airy apartment furnished with gorgeously shabby antiques with a view of rooftops and sky. It was also walking distance to the main square where a year earlier, Neil and I met for our first date. Depending on the evening, Neil cooked up a simple meal or we\u2019d visit a local restaurant to share plates of local meats and a bottle of wine. Our more fulfilling jobs also allowed us to have most weekends off to enjoy each other, lingering in our sunny little bedroom on a Saturday morning felt like being in a tree house above the city.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

In early in July we made the hour flight to Dubrovnik for a romantic weekend. Although badly shelled at the beginning of the war, Dubrovnik remained a gorgeous stone fortress of cobbled streets. Waves of the Adriatic lapped against the ancient walls surrounding the old town filled with cafes and seafood restaurants. After swimming in the crystalline waters for hours, we wandered the polished limestone streets.<\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

The moon was full and the air beginning to cool after a sweltering day. Walking the short distance from our hotel just on the outskirts of the walls of the old city, Neil led me past the sculpture of Saint Blaise standing guard at the gates to a small harbor. Taking my hand, we stepped across the rough stones. Moonlight glimmered on the pulsing sea and buoys clanged gently.<\/p>\n

I felt giddy but also weirdly detached, almost uncomfortable with the perfection of Neil\u2019s barely hidden plan to take the once-promised knee. At the end of the pier less than 10 feet away from where we stood I noticed another couple that seemed to be fighting. The woman was yelling in Croatian at the man who was looking away from her, out to sea, his body language clearly indicating he wished he were anywhere else. Did Neil see them? I wanted to move away from what seemed to be the dissolution of this unknown couple\u2019s relationship, but it was too late: Neil crouched before me.<\/p>\n

\u201cWill you be my wife? Will you live with me for the rest of my life?\u201d Neil glanced around as he spoke, as if hoping someone else beside me were witnessing his beautifully choreographed scene or did he hear the woman\u2019s angry voice growing louder? He opened the ring box and removed the simple little diamond set in a gold circle and slipped it on my finger.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes, yes! I will!\u201d I said quickly, distracted by the fighting and now anxious for him to get up. I kissed him and he pulled me to his chest, apparently still unaware of the drama taking place just feet away from us. Even with Neil\u2019s warm lips on mine, I watched the woman\u2019s gesticulations grew more dramatic and now the man held his head in his hands. This did not look like just a squabble – she looked like she was finishing it. I pulled Neil away from the harbor annoyed with myself for not ignoring those strangers and embracing the romance of my own experience. Why couldn\u2019t I do that? Why did I feel like we were actors on this picturesque stage? Was it my ambivalence about marriage? Or because we had already agreed to marry and this dramatized proposal felt contrived? It was as if I\u2019d just auditioned for a part, and although a terrible actress, was still given the role. The ring on my finger proved it. Neil on the other hand seemed to thoroughly enjoy himself: he <\/em>knew he was the leading man. When I told him about the drama few feet away from our romantic vignette, he laughed and said he hadn\u2019t noticed.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

By the end of the summer, Neil had a job as Transport Manager for the peacekeeping operation at Zagreb headquarters. Each morning he proudly dressed in the khaki colored military style uniform UNPROFOR civilian staff members were now expected to wear. The night before, he\u2019d iron the shirt and slacks and shine his shoes as … Continue reading Chapter 9<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_access":"","_jetpack_dont_email_post_to_subs":false,"_jetpack_newsletter_tier_id":0,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paywalled_content":false,"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":"","jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":{"image_generator_settings":{"template":"highway","default_image_id":0,"font":"","enabled":false},"version":2}},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-6149","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-uncategorized"],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","jetpack_shortlink":"https:\/\/wp.me\/pPzTS-1Bb","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_likes_enabled":true,"jetpack-related-posts":[],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=6149"}],"version-history":[{"count":2,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":6159,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6149\/revisions\/6159"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=6149"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=6149"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/triciatierneyblog.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=6149"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}