He thought it was their first date, she knew it was their anniversary. He looked at her over the table with a look of awe and apprehension. She returned his gaze, trying to gauge which Paul she would have tonight. A waiter appeared in his crisp white shirt and red apron, a fake smile on his face, two waters in his hands. “Good evening, what can I start you off with?”Paul was still reading the menu and was startled by his arrival. “Huh? Oh. Um…” he stammered. “What do you want, Gail? Drinks? Appetizers? Anything you want.” He smiled at her across the table, a goofy puppy love grin.Gail smiled back, unsure when he thought he was. Since the war, his mind wandered in time, and she never knew which version of her husband she would have. “Pinot Grigio for me, and we’ll start with the fried calamari. What do you think, Paul?”Paul grinned a boyish grin. “I’ll have a beer, that should go nicely with the calamari.”The waiter nodded and sprinted off. “I need to powder my nose,” Gail said, rising quickly. Paul moved to stand before falling back in his chair, his legs not as steady as they once were.She dashed after their waiter, finding him in the bar area. “You have to make sure his drinks are all non-alcoholic. His medications don’t mix well with alcohol. He’s…” She stopped for a moment; she had gotten into the habit of apologizing for him and often found herself overexplaining before she had to.The bartender and waiter looked at her in surprise before nodding. She returned to the table to see Paul scrolling through the table jukebox. That was one of the things she loved about Petie’s Place. The place had been renovated to look like something out of the 50s and had all the charm and whimsy of someone with too much money, no experience with the decade could make it. White Christmas began to play quietly at the table, and Paul began to hum along.He stood as she reached the table and managed to stay upright until she was seated. “All better?” he asked.She nodded and looked at the menu. The waiter returned with their drinks, ready to take their order. “Are you ready to order?” the waiter asked Gail.Paul’s head shot up, and his jovial grin turned dark. “Why are you talking to her?” he demanded.The waiter looked taken aback, and Gail reached for Paul’s hand. “It’s okay, Paulie, he’s just taking our order.”Paul turned from the waiter to Gail, his mouth set in an angry grimace, his jovial demeanor gone. “Don’t interrupt Gail, this is between me and this inconsiderate jackal.” He spat. Gail pulled her hands away; she had been afraid of this. The doctors had said he could have personality changes after the accident, but it was always shocking when it happened so fast. Paul began to stand, the unsteadiness replaced with fury and rage. The waiter took several confused steps backward, and Gail joined Paul on her feet, trying to get between them. “Why are you talking to my girl? You got something you want to say to me? She’s with me, you jerk! Back off!”“Paul, stop. Think. He’s just taking orders. See, your beer is right here. Sit down, honey, it’s okay. It’s okay.” She cooed soothingly.Paul continued to glare at the waiter, but his face was starting to go slack, the anger leaving him as fast as it had occurred. He began to say something, but the words were lost. He stood slumping slightly, his eyes unfocused. Gail put an arm around her husband, her heart breaking. She had hoped their anniversary would be different, but once again, his brain was not in a time or place that would let them enjoy the evening. “I’m sorry.” She started as she gently guided Paul to a seat.The waiter stood more erect, his patron now subdued. “I think we should go.” She pulled her phone case out of her pocket and handed the server a twenty-dollar bill. “This should cover the drinks. I’m sorry, he wasn’t like this… before…” tears started to well in her eyes as the server took the money.“Come on, Paul, let's go.” She said, coaxing the big man out of the seat and putting his jacket on him like a child. He looked around at the drinks, untouched, on the table, confused. “Where are we?” he asked softly, all the rage completely gone, leaving a small, broken man standing befuddled in the diner.“We were just leaving. Let’s go home, dear.” Gail coaxed.“But I’m hungry, let's have dinner.” He replied, pouting a little.The server stood by in amazement at the couple. They had looked about his parents' age when they had come in, forty-five, maybe fifty. But now the woman seemed so much older, a weight had settled on her face and shoulders, making her seem more like seventy. The man had changed so rapidly that he wasn’t sure what to think. He had started happy, waving to people and greeting the staff warmly, but just moments ago, he had been afraid Paul would hit him, and now he was a confused old man, like his Uncle Rupert, lost in his mind somewhere. The waiter’s face fell to one of pity. “Do you need help, ma’am?” he asked, unsure what he should do.Gail shook her head; she hated the look the waiter was giving them. A half-felt look of pity and fear. Grateful he didn’t have to take care of Paul. “No thanks, I’ve got him. Come on, Paul, we’ve got dinner at home.” She lied; she would have to come up with something, but by then, who knew what he would want?The server handed Gail back the money and held the door open for them as she guided her more subdued husband out the door. “Merry Christmas.” He said as the door chimed closed behind them.She bundled Paul into the car and got behind the wheel. He started protesting that, since he was taking her out, he should drive, but it was halfhearted and didn’t lead to anything else. She drove them home to their small bungalow, the starter home they had bought before his accident, and she pulled gingerly under the carport. Jaxsyn, the boy next door, hadn’t shoveled well, and she didn’t want Paul to slip on the ice. Back home, Paul had returned to his “normal” self. Quiet, reserved, lost in thought, unreachable. She had been so excited this morning when he had excitedly asked her out to dinner, hopeful that he might be coming back to her. But like her birthday three months before, he had disappeared behind the mask of his injury before she could enjoy the man he was.“Paul, do you want your slippers?” She asked helping him out of his coat. He nodded and wandered to his chair in the living room, sat in the old green recliner, the TV blaring a football game, the bright lights illuminating the dark space, bathing him in a soft multicolored glow.She went to the kitchen, opened a bottle of wine, and poured herself a glass of Chardonnay, exhaling deeply and forcing the tears down. She had promised, for better or worse, and prayed every day for more of the better and to be done with the worst. The sun set slowly, and the game continued with replays, or maybe it was another game she never followed sports, unless Paul dragged her into the conversation.Before seven, Paul wandered into the kitchen, his hair disheveled and a bit of drool at the corner of his mouth. “What’s for dinner tonight, Gail?” he asked in the darkened room.She was sitting in a chair at the old Formica table scrolling on her phone, watching TikToks of happy couples. “What do you want, Paul?” she asked heavily, all hopes for their anniversary gone.“Pizza?” he suggested, “I could call out to Donatello’s,” he added helpfully.She sighed, Donatello’s had burned two years ago, and no one had rebuilt it. “Why don’t we try Leo’s? They're new, and I’ve heard great things about them.” She lied; they had been ordering from them for over a year.He nodded, “Extra pepperoni and how about those little bread knot things?”“Sure.” She replied wearily. She had tried to go keto three years ago, but with Paul’s ever-changing attitude, that had failed miserably. She picked up the phone and called Leo, who answered. “Mrs. Baker, Merry Christmas, how are you?” he asked in his booming, jovial voice.“Hi Leo, can we get the usual and some extra wings, please?”“Sure, sure, but Charlie just left with your order. You want more?”Gail was confused. She hadn’t ordered anything. What order was he talking about? “Leo, what order?”“Your husband called; he ordered the food. He said it was a big date. He called this morning to have it delivered tonight at 7:30,” Leo replied, confused.Gail smiled to herself. “OH, thanks, no, tonight’s order is fine. Thanks, Leo.” She put the phone down, pleasantly surprised at Paul’s thoughtfulness. “Paul, food should be here shortly.” She called to the living room. She heard a grunt in response and went to wait by the door.Charlie arrived less than five minutes later with two pizzas, garlic knots, a dozen chicken wings, a bottle of champagne, and a dozen roses. “Good evening, Mrs. Baker. There’s a card here somewhere from your husband. I think.” She started to shuffle the order, nearly knocking over the champagne and dropping the flowers to the ground.She reached out and caught the bottle, before it joined the flowers. “Charlie, let me help you.” She grabbed the bottle and chicken wings, and Charlie followed her to the dining room to put the rest of the food down. She reached to give Charlie a tip, but he put his hands up in protest. “Already taken care of. Have a happy anniversary.” He said before retreating out the door.On top of the pizza was a pale blue card with her name in Paul’s giant bold print. “Food’s here, Paul.” She announced. The tv turned off and he stumbled into the dining room. “Looks good, thanks, honey.” He said, giving her a gentle peck on the cheek. “Nice flowers.” He added picking them up and giving them a deep sniff, before placing them next to the pizza. He returned from the kitchen with a vase, plates, and napkins. “Here, honey, hey, what’s today?”“December 20th.” She replied automatically.“Why didn’t you say anything? Happy Anniversary, sweetie.” He bent down and pulled her closer, a mischievous grin in his eyes. He bent down to kiss her, the way he used to, and she let herself melt into his soft lips and warm embrace. When he was like this, she could forget the accident, she could forget the bad days.He picked up a few slices of pizza and carried them to the living room while she opened the card.	My sweetest dearest wife, I’m so sorry for everything. I know we’ve been through a lot, more than I can say or remember. I know I’m not the man you married, no, don’t argue. I’m not. But I love you, I could never forget that. I love you more than anything. Even when I can’t remember who you are, I still love you. Thank you for 20 years. They haven’t always been wonderful, but you’ve always been there. I don’t know if I will be me by the time you get this, but Happy Anniversary, sweetheart, and I pray that next year is wonderful.Love alwaysYour PaulieTears welled in her eyes. He was still there, deep down, Paul was still there. She picked up a plate and filled it and followed him back into the living room. He joined her on the couch to watch Miracle on 34th Street as the snow piled up outside. Sometimes are worse but some are better.

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I will love you always

ElizabethBaizel

Elizabeth Baizel

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Elizabeth Baizel

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