He kissed me and pulled me close, hopeful as always. In the morning light after our first night as a married couple, our bodies became visible-a tangled mess of arms and legs, heavy with sleep, not yet ready to face the world. It looked like it belonged in a hotel from a movie scene where two characters check in to spend the night having illicit and passionate sex. The bed in the house in Wellfleet, Massachusetts, where we spent our honeymoon was piled high with a white duvet that was puffy like a cumulus cloud. My husband and I did not have sex on our wedding night.
