Ghostwriting
On the eve of my anniversary, I am not frantically making back-up plans for August 26 or watching our wedding video on loop through wine goggles.
Tonight is all about the midnight deadline for an essay about me and Laurie commissioned by Red magazine in the UK. Lotsa last-minute swapping of “realized” for “realised” and “truck” for “lorry” because audience. It requires my AP Style Book, which for no good reason is hidden deep in a desk drawer atop a nondescript black notebook. And hey, I could actually use that notebook for a client meeting later this week.
Except the black notebook ain’t empty.
The handwriting alone would give me pause, but the three lines of cursive words I encounter are so uncannily timed that I quickly carry the notebook out of the office.
If I read any further, time will become fluid and irrelevant.
If I read any further, I won’t file the essay on time.
Essay officially filed, I can now indulge in circular questioning, right?
As in, how do I not remember receiving this anniversary book from Alberto?
Also, how did it hide for eight years?
And, more importantly, what does the next page say?
Fuck yeah! More please.
Suspense. Is. Killing. Eating. Me. Here’s a little book of..what?
Oh, fuck the fence: is this…for real?
(Why did you shove this in a drawer, Tré? How could you shove this in a drawer?)
Feeling like a textbook widow right about now—seriously, you took romantic gestures like THIS for granted?!—so yeah, moving along.
To…?
His collection. Of reasons.
I married you because you are, by far, my favorite.
I married you because you became my favorite all too easily.
I married you because I knew you were full of shit!
I married you because I also knew you weren’t entirely full of shit!
I love you ‘cause you’re cute, even without putting your “face” on.
I love you because you fell for me as I fell for you.
I love you because you looked back.
I married you because you were able to make me fond of places I once hated.
I love you because you took as big a chance on me as I was taking on you…
And No. 10…
Apparently, it IS possible to fall in love all over again on your anniversary.
Even with your dead husband.
‘Scuse me while I swill some wine and watch my wedding video.
