“Why Friday?”
“You said you’re coming home.”
“I am.”
The Husband said:
“Then we’ll talk Friday.”
The Wife became irritated.
“Why are you being cryptic?”
“I’m working.”
“That’s it?”
“Yes.”
She scoffed.
“You know, this emotional shutdown is part of the problem.”
The Husband almost defended himself.
Then decided he no longer needed to win the argument.
“Maybe.”
“I’ll see you Friday.”
“Yes.”
The call ended.
Tuesday night, the Husband reached the storage room.
There he found the anniversary gift.
Still hidden beneath an old blanket.
He had purchased it six weeks earlier.
A luxury watch his Wife had stopped to admire in Manhattan.
She had never asked for it.
Just stared through the boutique glass.
“This is irresponsible.”
she had joked.
The Husband remembered the model.
Returned alone two weeks later.
Bought it.
Their anniversary was next month.
He had planned dinner.
A weekend in Boston.
The watch.
He opened the box.
Polished metal reflected basement light.
Beautiful.
Expensive.
Meaningless now.
His first impulse was to return it.
He found the receipt.
Then stopped.
An idea entered.
Not revenge.
A final sentence.
The Husband carried the watch upstairs.
He placed it on the kitchen island.
Looked at it for a long time.
Then called his Attorney.
“This might be petty.”
“That is a strong beginning.”
“I bought her an anniversary present before Friday.”
“Okay.”
“I want to give it to her anyway.”
Silence.
“Why?”
“Because I bought it when I still believed we had an anniversary.”
His friend waited.
“And?”
“I want to put a card inside.”
“What card?”
The Husband told him.
The Attorney laughed despite himself.
“That is petty.”
“I know.”
“It is also not illegal.”
“High praise.”
“Do not use the gift as leverage.”
“I won’t.”
“Do not attach threats.”
“I won’t.”
“Then your terrible emotional symbolism is between you and your therapist.”
“I don’t have one.”
“You will.”
The call ended.
The Husband found heavy cream stationery.
He wrote one sentence.
Read it.
Crossed it out.
Tried again.
Too angry.
Third version.
Too dramatic.
Finally he wrote:
I bought this for our anniversary; the divorce petition was filed Monday.
One sentence.
Fact.
No insult.
No plea.
He placed the card beneath the watch.
Closed the box.
Wrapped it in silver paper because that was the paper he had bought before everything collapsed.
Black ribbon.
Perfect corners.
The Wife would recognize his wrapping style.
He had always been annoyingly precise.
Wednesday, the Wife’s mother called.
The Husband almost did not answer.
Then did.
“Hello.”
The Mother-in-Law sounded cautious.
“I heard you two are having problems.”
“Did she tell you what happened?”
“She said you’re taking some space.”
The Husband closed his eyes.