She thinks you forgot. You were never great at remembering dates but you’ve been planning this night for awhile. It’s your one year anniversary. You remembered everything. Dinner at her favorite restaurant, the one with the name like ‘Taste’ or ‘Fork’. The kind of place where they dont have prices on the menus, and usually your hands are sweating, busy under the table wringing each other so hard you think they’ll break, or worse, she’ll notice. “Relaaax. Why do you get so worked up over this shit. You’ve been dating her a year. If she laughs at you, she laughs at you. You laugh at each other all the time.” More wringing.
A sizable tip. You leave the restaurant thinking “I should leave a good review on Yelp, or something. That was decent.” But you never do. “People who do that are kind of weird. Leaving reviews on everything. Have I ever gone somewhere because I read about someone else having a great time there? I think I only check those things to read bad reviews. Is that weird? I’m the shittiest breed of vulture. I grew hands instead of wings.”
“Try to resist the urge to check your phone, you idiot. You know she hates that. Especially when you’re driving.”
Door open, keys on the hanger, wallet on the table, shoes off. “I think this is a ritual for me. I think I’ve done the same thing every day since we moved in here. Maybe I should switch which back pocket my wallet goes in. Would that fuck everything up? Would I enter some weird Twilight Zone because of some butterfly effect shit I did?”
“You want to see something cool?” “I guess.” “Check it out.” You open the box and remove the velvet cloth from inside. “What the fuck is that? It looks like a little shitty flute.” “Yeah, it’s the flute from Zelda. But did you know it can also play Pop, Classical, Rock and Flamenco?”
You spin toward the entertainment center, a little curbside special, but hey- it’s held up pretty well. You tap play on the cd player mid-spin. Smooth, like the shiny finish of your ocarina, which you bring to your lips as you turn back to face her. “Nice spin. Are you going to play that or-” “Yeah, I’m going to play it.” You inhale and hope you’ve timed this correctly.
Zelda’s Theme starts coming out of your stereo. It’s good as hell, it’s from a video game. She is fairly fucking impressed that you know it. She moves to the kitchenette, her hips bouncing off of every note. “This shit is so good. I love it. I love video games, also. They’re great.” She pours a glass of Merlot, a gift from her boss as a thank-you for completion of a big project. Working in television is stressful, but it has its perks. “Grab yourself a sugar cookie in the shape of an ocarina-er a flute. Grab one of those flute cookies.”
She’s back on the couch with a mouthful of wine. You’re just about to start the second track, Zelda 2: Zelda’s Revenge, when there’s a knock at the door..
To Be Continued..