What happens after a 35,000-foot high romance? Though I’d like to cut straight to the terrific part and toast Alex on his birthday, all things terror is on my mind lately (chemo starts Wednesday).

It got me to wonder, though, how could terror and terrific be such opposites? Turns out terrific used to have a bad connotation, but since we’re not living in the 1800a anymore, I’ll make up a word which means both: terrorific.

It best describes marrying Alex. As terrific as he was, I was terrified. I’d have to pinch myself, was he for real?

But then there was the boat captain who went with us to the American Virgin Islands, Alex wasn’t allowed on the British side as he was in the process of getting his papers, who put it all in perspective.

We were staring up at the gorgeous night sky and he said to me, “You’re so lucky to have a guy like Alex.”

My retort was, “You’ve got to be kidding me. You mean, Alex is so lucky to have a girl like me.”

I was American, after all. I created a story that Alex married me for a green card. And that was two years before Green Card the movie came out. I had a romantic comedy of my own going on in my head; I didn’t need any help from Hollywood.

Plus, it was all the fad in NYC. It was common to know a friend of a friend who married someone for a green card. But Alex and I were in love. Our story was different. It just so happened that he could use a green card and I had an overactive imagination.

You’d have thought walking down the aisle would have alleviated my fears, but I let my fears get the best of me. Alex would wait five years, get a green card, and sit next to someone else on an airplane, who would steal him away.

It explained why Alex seemed too good to be true, more like Alexander the Great. He saved the last piece for me. He was always on time, true to his word, so honorable, heck, he drove the speed limit even if he was in a rush!

We’d exchanged vows “for better or for worse” on September 19th and flew to Greece to soak up the first of those better times. Our Honeymoon began in Zakynthos. A respite on a secluded, unknown island on the Ionian Sea.

We were only to be there for a few days before island hopping and ended up sleeping for 18 hours straight. No joke. We’d wake up to the trickling sound of a water fountain outside our window and would get lulled back to sleep again.

We slept most of our time on that island away, which gave us only one day to sightsee. But it was a small island, and finally, we felt refreshed, so we hopped in a rental car and explored the perimeter alongside the sea.

As it was getting dark, we cut through the middle of the island to head back over the mountainous terrain. We found ourselves in deep and profound darkness, with the only lights coming from our car and the night sky.

It made a starry night in Aspen look lame. We’d been holding hands the way we always do when he drives. For no reason at all, it seemed, he pulled over and parked. He slipped his hand out of mine, turned off the car, and said, “Get out.”

Forgetting all sense of timing (we’d have to be married at least five years before he could get a green card and get rid of me), I had concocted a new story. He’d dice me up right then and there.

He wouldn’t want any blood in the rental car (they’d ask questions), but what a perfect place to commit a crime and dispose of a body.

Honest to God, that was the story I made up on the spot.

So he came over to my side of the car and opened the door. (Even more suspicious, right?) Again, he said, “Get out of the car.”

I stayed in the car with my seatbelt on. (Way to outsmart him, eh?)

When he saw that I wasn’t leaving, he said, “You’ve got to come out and see this sky. I’ve never seen anything like it.” (The words of a killer).

So I thanked him and said I’d stay in the car. (Good way to avert that disaster).

And to my surprise, he stood there and admired the sky.

He had no intention of getting rid of me on that mountaintop, though it would have made a great plot. At least give me that.

So hopefully, I learned my lesson. The thing I fear is never as bad as what I make it out to be. Yeah, maybe next time.

But I do know better in one regard: the next time a captain tells me, “You’re so lucky to have a guy like Alex.” I’ll agree. (And I won’t even make my snide remark that he’s so lucky to have a girl like me, though he is, wink).

But through our twenty-two years together, I still have a terrific husband, who happens to be a terrible mystery writer I’ll have you know. He could have gotten rid of me when the going was easy!

Just goes to show, if I could survive a terrorific Honeymoon with good humor–really, I could have been toast. I’d better stop this muse while the going is good and toast my partner in crime already.

Dear Alex, know how special you are and how wrong that captain was–I’m way beyond lucky. I’m blessed. For better or for worse and with or without a green card, you’ve been by my side. Somehow your love can even make a terrorific day terrific.