My husband, at forty-five, had developed a most unusual habit. He could recall with absolute clarity when the car needed an oil change, the exact dates his angling friends gathered at the lake, and just when the fish were in a biting mood. Yet, family occasions seemed to dissolve from his memory as though theyd never existed at all.
Ordinarily, I would come to the rescue with subtle hints, notes left on the fridge, or the occasional direct question. This year, however, as my forty-fifth birthday approached, I wished for something different. No reminders, no requestsjust a hope that twenty-five years together might have taught him something.
That Friday morning, Edward dashed about the house, gathering rods and stuffing his backpack.
Jane, have you seen my flask anywhere? The lads are already waiting. Its the perfect time for fishing on the Thames. Ill be back Sunday, probably out of signal.
He pecked me on the cheek, barely glancing my way. Dont mope. Treat yourself to something nice.
The door slammed behind him. I wandered over to the calendar, where the date was circled thickly in red. My birthday. Not only had he forgotten, but hed chosen precisely that day to disappear on his little adventure.
At first, hurt settled in my chest. But as the house hushed, a calm replaced iticy and resolute. A plan began to take shape: to teach my husband a lesson, to show him that memories worth keeping shouldnt be cast aside for fishing and old friends. By the time he returned, the surprise awaiting him ensured he would never forget the date again.
Let me tell you what I did.
Edward kept a private stashhis untouchable savings, which he diligently set aside for a new engine for his beloved boat. He thought it was hidden away in the safe, the code a closely guarded secret. But I knew it well enough; his faultless memory did have its cracks.
It was a tidy sum. Nearly thirty thousand pounds. I opened the safe, took a deep breath, and made my decision.
The weekend unfolded in a way Id never let myself enjoy before. I hired a caterer, invited my closest friends, decked the house with fresh flowers. There was music, laughter, and champagne. The next day, dinner overlooking London from a splendid restaurant, followed by a luxurious spa day.
And, at last, I bought the brooch Id admired for years, always postponing it for joint plans.
On Sunday evening, the front door creaked open. Edward strode in, triumphant, a pail of carp in his hand.
Well, look what Ive brought! Grand catch this time.
He took a step into the lounge and froze. Empty bottles lined the table, bouquets crowded the corner, and high-end shopping bags lay stacked on the sofa.
Whats happened here? Did we have guests?
We did, I replied calmly. It was my birthday. Forty-five years, Edward. Remember?
He stopped, then let out a stunned breath. Jane I truly forgot. I got caught up. You must understand
I do, I interrupted. So I decided not to be upset. I organised everything myself. And I chose my own present, without your help.
His gaze darted to the study. The safe door was ajar. He paled, rushing across the room. A minute later he returned, hollow-eyed.
The moneys gone. All of it. Where are my savings?
Theyre here, I gestured around the room.
You spent everything? That was for the new engineIve been saving for two years!
And Ive been patient for twenty-five, I answered quietly but resolutely. You forgot my birthday, Edward. I made sure youd remember it for years to come.
He slumped onto the sofa, staring first at his pail of fish, then at the empty safe, and finally at me. It didnt look as though thered be a rowthe money was, after all, ours.
He cleaned his fish in silence that night.
Half a year has since passed. Edward is once more squirreling away money for his engine. But now his telephone chimes with reminders a month, a week, and a day before every important date. Sometimes, lessons are expensive. But this one, he remembers nowalways.
