My husband, at 45, has somehow managed to forget my birthdayFebruary 27th, of all daysand on that very morning, hes out the door, heading off on a fishing trip with his mates. While hes away, I come up with a surprise that guarantees hell never forget this date again.
Approaching fifty, my husband has developed a peculiar skill: he can tell you the exact day his friends are heading to the lake, when the car needs its oil changed, and precisely when the best bites are. Family occasions, on the other hand, seem to vanish from his mind completely.
Usually, I would step in to prevent such blunderssubtle hints, sticky notes on the fridge, sometimes even asking outright. But for my 45th, I hoped for a changeno reminders, no hints, just a small nod of recognition from the man Ive shared a quarter of a century with.
That Friday morning, David was darting around the house, packing gear and his backpack.
“Anna, have you seen my flask? The lads are waiting. Were off to the Thames, should be a brilliant catch. Ill be back on Sundaydont expect much phone signal!”
He kissed my cheek, barely looking at me.
Dont mope. Treat yourself to something nice.
With those words, he was gone. I glanced at the calendar. The day was circled in red. My birthday. He hadnt simply forgottenhed actually chosen today to disappear on his fishing trip.
At first, I was hurt. But after a while, I just felt cold, almost serene. A plan began to form in my minda way to remind him that his fishing trips shouldnt come before his wife. While he was away, I decided exactly how to ensure he would never again forget my birthday.
David had a secret stash. Hed been meticulously saving, every spare pound tucked away in a safe, for the outboard motor he dreamed of buying. Lucky for me, I knew the codehis perfect memory wasnt infallible, after all.
There was almost £7,000 in there. I opened the safe and made my decision.
The weekend turned into a celebration unlike any Id had before. I ordered catering, invited my friends over, filled the house with fresh flowers, music, laughter, Champagne. The next evening, we dined at a rooftop restaurant overlooking London. On Sundayspa day.
And then, at last, I bought the brooch Id long admired, but always set aside for shared goals.
Sunday evening, the front door swung open. David came in, all smiles, a bucket of fish in his hand.
Well then, look at this haul! Had a cracking weekend.
He stepped into the lounge and stopped dead. Empty bottles lined the table, baskets of flowers were stacked in the corner, and shopping bags from the priciest shops rested on the sofa.
What happened here? Did we have a party?
We did, I replied calmly. It was my birthday. Forty-five. Remember?
He froze, then let out a sharp breath.
For goodness sake, Anna, I genuinely forgot. Things were so hectic, you know how it is
I do, I said, cutting him short. So I chose not to be upset. I sorted everything out myself. Even picked my own present, since you forgot.
His gaze darted to his study. The safe door was ajar. He paled and rushed inside. A moment later he returned, hollow-eyed.
Wheres the money? Its all gone. Where are my savings?
Theyre right here, I gestured around the room.
You spent it? That was for the motor! Ive been saving for years!
And Ive waited through twenty-five years of being second-best, I said quietly, but firmly. You forgot my milestone birthday. So I made sure you would remember it for a long, long time.
David slumped onto the sofa, staring from the bucket of fish, to the empty safe, to me. Making a scene wouldnt help; after all, the money was ours.
He gutted his fish in silence.
Its been six months now. Hes started saving for his outboard motor all over again. But now, his phone is packed with reminders: a month before, a week before, a day beforeevery important date gets three alerts.
Sometimes, the hard lessons are the ones that stay with us forever. This one certainly did.
