Three weeks with my brother - Nicholas Sparks [43]
“I know. But if you could pick one thing, what would it be?”
I hesitated. Above me, the sky was charcoal; clouds were rolling and shifting, changing shape by the minute.
“Commitment,” I finally said. “Both people have to be committed. I think if two people are committed to the marriage, if they really want to make it work, then they’ll find a way to do it. No matter what happens in life. If you marry someone who isn’t committed—or if you’re not committed—and something goes wrong, the marriage won’t make it. Marriage is hard.”
“Hmm,” is all Micah said.
“How about you? What do you think the secret is?”
“I have no idea. I’ve only been married four years. But for me and Christine, I think it’s communication. When we talk about issues and really open up to each other, things are great between us. When we keep things to ourselves, grudges and resentments build up and we end up arguing.”
I said nothing.
“What? You don’t think communication is important?”
I shrugged. “What good is talking if neither of you are really committed? If one of you had an affair or got addicted to drugs or was abusive, simply talking about it wouldn’t take the hurt away. Or fix the trust that’s been lost. In the end, marriage comes down to actions. I think people talk too much about the things that bother them, instead of actually doing the little things that keep a marriage strong. You have to know what your spouse needs from you, and then you do it. And you avoid doing the things that harm the relationship. If your spouse acts the same way, your marriage can make it through anything.”
He smiled. “Like you and Cat?”
“Yeah,” I said quietly. “Like me and Cat.”
After the fortress of Sacsayhuaman, we headed back to tour the main cathedral of Cuzco, where the wealth was enough to stagger the imagination. Larger than St. Patrick’s Cathedral in New York, the cathedral was home to hundreds of frescoes and oil paintings of religious figures, while gold and silver glittered everywhere. Not only were the massive altars plated in precious metals, but entire walls as well. When one considers that the Spanish sent the vast majority of the wealth back to Spain, it was easy to understand why Pizarro had been so intent on conquering the Incas.
As fascinating as the church was, Micah seemed fixated on a particular item. With effort, he got the guide’s attention.
“Um, where’s the painting of Jesus eating the guinea pig?” Micah asked.
Guinea pigs, we learned, aren’t regarded as pets in Peru. Instead, they’re regarded as a delicacy, and are roasted for celebratory occasions. When the early Spanish missionaries were working to convert the Incas to Catholicism, they’d had to blend the religion with local culture as a way to make it more palatable to the natives. Thus when the missionaries commissioned a painting of the Last Supper, one has to wonder whether they were surprised by what the artist assumed Jesus had eaten.
We soon found ourselves staring up at the painting of Jesus surrounded by his disciples. In addition to the bread and the wine, there on the platter in front of him was a roasted guinea pig.
As we were staring at it, Micah leaned over to me.
“Did you know Alli’s classroom has a guinea pig for a pet?”
“She does?”
“Oh yeah. She’s going to love this.”
Micah surreptitiously snapped a photograph.
Museums.
Everywhere we went, we were taken to museums, so we could see the artifacts representing the history of the native peoples. In all honesty, many were quite boring. We learned, for instance, that nearly every culture in the past had—surprise!—pottery; consequently we spent a lot of time looking at jars and bowls. No matter how you sliced it, after a while this was about as exciting as looking at jars and bowls in your own kitchen cupboard. Yet our guides loved jars and bowls. It seemed like they could talk about jars and bowls for hours. They spoke with reverence about jars and bowls.
“And this . . . this is the jar they used to store water!” they’d say. “And now, over here—notice how different