My husband’s anniversary prank had our neighbors laughing at my expense. I wasn’t going to let him get away with it. But my little revenge would lead to something I never saw coming.
My husband Walter remembered the score of the 1974 Super Bowl, the names of both quarterbacks, and what he’d eaten while watching it.
But apparently, our wedding anniversary was too much information for his eighty-two-year-old brain.
“Your eggs are getting cold,” I told him.
OUR WEDDING ANNIVERSARY WAS TOO MUCH INFORMATION.
“Then stop talking to them, Trouble.”
“I’m talking to you.”
“That explains why they’re ignoring you.”
I lowered my glasses.
After thirty-five years as a schoolteacher, I could recognize a student heading for disaster. Unfortunately, I’d married this particular student fifty-eight years earlier.
STOP TALKING TO THEM.
“Do you know what today is, Walter?”
“Thursday.”
“Anything else?”
“Trash collection?”
“Try again.”
I COULD RECOGNIZE A STUDENT HEADING FOR DISASTER.
He considered this while chewing his toast. “Is your sister visiting?”
“My sister moved to Arizona twelve years ago.”
“Then we’re safe.”
I set down my coffee. “Happy anniversary, Walter.”
He blinked. “Is it?”
TRY AGAIN.
Then he put down his fork.
“Of course! I was just about to say that.”
“Really? Before or after you finished discussing the Steelers?”
“Before dessert?”
I stared at him. “Fifty-eight anniversaries, Walter. I’ve remembered every one.”
HAPPY ANNIVERSARY, WALTER.
“Even the year I gave you that retirement card?”
“Especially that one. You’d crossed out Happy Retirement and written Happy Birthday!”
Walter used to leave little notes in my lunch bag when I was teaching.
Nothing fancy. Just silly jokes and reminders that he loved me.
I couldn’t remember the last time he’d done something like that.
I’VE REMEMBERED EVERY ONE.
Instead, I got a man who remembered football statistics better than his wedding vows.
“You’re upset,” he said.
“Wonderful observation. Five out of ten.”
“What’s the missing point?”
“You forgot our anniversary.”
JUST SILLY JOKES AND REMINDERS THAT HE LOVED ME.
“Right. That.”
“And don’t forget, we have twenty guests coming for our anniversary dinner on Saturday.”
“Twenty? Are we celebrating or opening a restaurant?”
“Just try to remember what we’re celebrating, Walter.”
He chuckled and reached for his coffee, as if forgetting our anniversary were nothing serious.
YOU FORGOT OUR ANNIVERSARY.
But to me, it was.
I could’ve cried. Instead, I smiled.
“Walter, you have one day. If tomorrow I don’t get something that goes from zero to one hundred and eighty in five seconds, I’m divorcing you.”
He raised an eyebrow. “That’s a very specific request.”
JUST TRY TO REMEMBER WHAT WE’RE CELEBRATING.
“I’m a very specific woman.”
“Does it need wheels?”
“Surprise me.”
He pulled a napkin toward him and wrote down my instructions.
“Are you taking notes?”
THAT’S A VERY SPECIFIC REQUEST.
“After fifty-eight years, I’ve learned to document threats.”
I should’ve recognized that expression. Walter looked far too pleased with himself.
The following morning, a delivery truck stopped outside our house.
Then another.
Then every neighbor on our street suddenly developed an urgent interest in watering their lawns.
HE WROTE DOWN MY INSTRUCTIONS.
“Trouble!” Walter called. “Your present’s here!”
I opened the door.
A gigantic cardboard box stood in our yard, decorated with a red bow.
Our neighbor, Mrs. Henderson, was watching from across the street.
“Is that a car, Birdie?”
I SHOULD’VE RECOGNIZED THAT EXPRESSION.
“Don’t encourage her,” Walter said.
“Walter, is that a sports car?”
“Would you drive one at eighty?”
“With sunglasses on. I’d terrify every pedestrian in town.”
“Well, then you’d better open it.”
YOUR PRESENT’S HERE!
“You wonderful old fool!”
“Remember that sentence.”
I tore open the cardboard.
Inside was another box.
Then another.
I’D TERRIFY EVERY PEDESTRIAN IN TOWN.
“Walter, did you buy me a present or an entire cardboard factory?”
“Patience, sweetheart.”
Finally, I reached the smallest package.
Inside sat a bathroom scale.
I stared.
INSIDE WAS ANOTHER BOX.
Walter beamed. “Zero to one hundred and eighty in under five seconds!”
Mrs. Henderson snorted.
“Provided someone weighing a hundred and eighty pounds steps on it,” Walter added.
The neighbors erupted.
I slowly turned toward him. “You’re telling me you rented two delivery trucks for a bathroom scale?”
INSIDE SAT A BATHROOM SCALE.
“One delivered the box. The other belonged to my friend. He wanted to watch.”
“How economical.”
Walter produced yesterday’s napkin.
“Requirements met, sweetheart.”
I lowered my glasses. “Two out of ten. See me after class.”
ZERO TO ONE HUNDRED AND EIGHTY IN UNDER FIVE SECONDS!
“That’s harsh.”
“You’re lucky I’m not assigning detention.”
He kissed my cheek. “Happy anniversary, Trouble.”
“Walter, I can’t decide whether to laugh or bury you beneath that cardboard.”
“Could you decide after lunch?”
TWO OUT OF TEN.
By lunchtime, Walter had told the story to three neighbors, our mail carrier, and our new friend Gary.
At dinner, he was still enjoying himself.
“Gary says I’m a genius.”
“He once locked himself inside his own garage.”
“Still counts.”
YOU’RE LUCKY I’M NOT ASSIGNING DETENTION.
“Keep laughing, Walter.”
“Should I be worried?”
“Not yet.”
That was technically true.
I hadn’t found the appropriate punishment.
KEEP LAUGHING, WALTER.
But the following afternoon, I stopped by our senior center and saw a poster.
CHARITY AUCTION – SATURDAY!
All proceeds would help repair the community room’s leaking roof.
People were donating:
I HADN’T FOUND THE APPROPRIATE PUNISHMENT.
I studied the poster.
Then I smiled.
“Oh, that’s interesting,” said Marge, my longtime friend and one of the auction organizers.
“What?”
“That expression.”
CHARITY AUCTION – SATURDAY!
“What expression?”
“The one you wore before convincing the entire school board to replace the cafeteria coffee.”
“That coffee could’ve stripped paint.”
“What are you planning?”
I leaned closer. Marge listened.
THAT EXPRESSION.
Then she burst out laughing.
“Birdie, you cannot be serious!”
“Have you ever known me to joke about education?”
“This isn’t education!”
“Every mistake is a learning opportunity.”
SHE BURST OUT LAUGHING.
“All right, Birdie, I’ll go along with your plan. But you’re going to owe me.”
“I’ll bring lemon bars.”
“Two trays.”
“Extortion.”
“Three, then.”
EVERY MISTAKE IS A LEARNING OPPORTUNITY.
“Fine. But one condition, Marge. Nobody gets genuinely inconvenienced.”
“And Walter?”
“He gets a lesson.”
“Does he suspect anything?”
“Not a thing. Keep our little surprise quiet.”
I’LL GO ALONG WITH YOUR PLAN.
That evening, I found him watching television.
“There’s a charity auction Saturday.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“Free cookies.”
“What time?”
KEEP OUR LITTLE SURPRISE QUIET.
“Seven.”
“I’ll wear my good cardigan.”
“Wonderful.”
He glanced at me. “You’re being suspiciously pleasant.”
“Marriage has softened me.”
THERE’S A CHARITY AUCTION SATURDAY.
“Not in any area I’ve noticed.”
I kissed his forehead.
He looked genuinely alarmed.
Good.
Saturday arrived.
YOU’RE BEING SUSPICIOUSLY PLEASANT.
Walter wore his favorite brown cardigan and the hideous striped tie he’d owned since approximately the invention of electricity.
“That tie looks like a confused traffic signal,” I said.
“You bought it.”
“I was young and impressionable.”
“You were seventy-three.”
HE LOOKED GENUINELY ALARMED.
“Exactly.”
At the senior center, Walter immediately located the refreshments.
He waved to a few familiar faces, including a silver-haired woman in a bright blue jacket.
“Making friends again?” I asked.
“Just being charming, Trouble.”
I WAS YOUNG AND IMPRESSIONABLE.
A few minutes later, the auction began.
Marge sold a homemade pie and a gardening consultation.
“Good prices,” Walter whispered. “Maybe I should donate my lawn-mowing services next year.”
“Excellent idea,” I said.
“Why are you smiling?”
JUST BEING CHARMING, TROUBLE.
“No reason.”
Marge stepped up to the microphone.
“Our next item is rather unusual.”
My plan was finally in motion. I couldn’t wait to see Walter’s face.
If only I’d known how badly it was about to backfire.
WHY ARE YOU SMILING?
“A vintage gentleman,” Marge announced. “Eighty-two years old. Fifty-eight years of previous ownership.”
Walter chuckled. “Poor fellow.”
“Selective memory. Excellent breakfast skills. Minor snoring defects. Warranty expired decades ago.”
The audience laughed.
Walter nodded approvingly. “Sounds familiar.”
IT WAS ABOUT TO BACKFIRE.
“Returns not accepted,” Marge continued. “Please welcome Walter!”
His cookie stopped halfway to his mouth.
“What?”
I stood. “Surprise, sweetheart!”
My husband stared at me. “Birdie.”
EIGHTY-TWO YEARS OLD. FIFTY-EIGHT YEARS OF PREVIOUS OWNERSHIP.
“Yes, darling?”
“What have you done?”
“Since you couldn’t give me the car I requested, I’ve decided to sell the old model.”
The room exploded with laughter.
Walter looked at Marge. “Is she allowed to do that?”
PLEASE WELCOME WALTER!
“Apparently,” Marge replied.
I took the microphone.
“Don’t worry, folks. The winner gets a certificate declaring them Walter’s new owner.”
“And what else?” someone called.
“His help with chores once a week for a month!”
I’VE DECIDED TO SELL THE OLD MODEL.
“Do I get to keep him?” a woman asked.
“Absolutely not. He’s still my problem!”
“Thank heaven,” Walter muttered.
“He’s house-trained,” I continued. “Mostly.”
“Birdie!”
A CERTIFICATE DECLARING THEM WALTER’S NEW OWNER.
“Although he occasionally leaves socks beneath furniture like a squirrel hiding nuts.”
Walter stood. “I object to this description.”
“Would you like to correct anything?”
“Yes. I make excellent pancakes.”
“Noted. The merchandise has spoken.”
HE’S STILL MY PROBLEM!
The audience applauded.
Walter crossed his arms. “You didn’t ask permission.”
“Neither did you before displaying my bathroom scale to half the neighborhood.”
“That was different.”
“Absolutely. My joke benefits charity.”
I OBJECT TO THIS DESCRIPTION.
Marge raised her paddle. “Fifty dollars!”
I smiled.
Everything was proceeding beautifully.
Then a woman’s voice rang out.
“One hundred!”
MY JOKE BENEFITS CHARITY.
I turned.
An elegant silver-haired woman sat near the back, wearing pearls and a bright blue jacket.
I’d noticed Walter greeting her earlier, but I had no idea who she was.
Walter looked toward her.
For a moment, his expression changed.
EVERYTHING WAS PROCEEDING BEAUTIFULLY.
Then he smiled.
Interesting.
I knew it was only a joke. But I hadn’t seen Walter smile at another woman quite like that in years.
And I didn’t particularly enjoy it.
Marge raised her paddle. “One hundred and twenty-five!”
I HAD NO IDEA WHO SHE WAS.
“Two hundred,” the woman replied.
I leaned toward Marge. “Keep going.”
“Birdie, we agreed on fifty!”
“Plans evolve.”
“My wallet doesn’t.”
I DIDN’T PARTICULARLY ENJOY IT.
Walter straightened his tie.
“Enjoying yourself?” I asked.
“Immensely, Trouble. Ladies, I should mention that I’m an excellent cook.”
“Walter!”
“And I can still change a tire.”
WE AGREED ON FIFTY!
“With three breaks and a heating pad!”
“Details, Trouble.”
Marge announced a brief pause while someone replaced the microphone batteries.
Walter wandered toward the refreshments.
I was busy arguing with Marge.
I SHOULD MENTION THAT I’M AN EXCELLENT COOK.
“You started this,” my friend reminded me.
“That woman is ruining everything.”
“Then stop bidding.”
“I haven’t started!”
“That’s what worries me.”
I WAS BUSY ARGUING WITH MARGE.
Walter returned looking suspiciously cheerful. The woman in blue hid a smile.
“What are you grinning about?” I asked.
“Can’t a man enjoy his own auction?”
“Not that much, Walter.”
Marge shook her head. “I’m finished, Birdie.”
THAT’S WHAT WORRIES ME.
The woman lifted her paddle again.
“Two hundred!”
I stood. “Two hundred and fifty!”
Walter turned. “Trouble, are you bidding on me?”
“Consider it quality control.”
CAN’T A MAN ENJOY HIS OWN AUCTION?
“Three hundred,” the woman said.
I stared at her. “Excuse me, but why do you want an eighty-two-year-old man?”
She smiled. “He seems charming.”
“That’s how they get you.”
“He cooks breakfast,” the woman said.
CONSIDER IT QUALITY CONTROL.
“Only when he wants something.”
Walter raised his hand. “I also give excellent shoulder massages.”
“Since when?”
“Since you complained about your shoulders yesterday.”
“That was you looking for the television remote!”
HE SEEMS CHARMING.
The audience roared.
“Four hundred,” the woman in blue announced.
“Four hundred and fifty!”
“Five hundred!” someone called from the back.
A man near the refreshments had joined the bidding, apparently hoping to win Walter for his poker group.
I ALSO GIVE EXCELLENT SHOULDER MASSAGES.
“Five hundred and fifty!” I snapped.
Walter straightened his tie. “Good heavens. I’m popular.”
“You’re becoming expensive.”
“Six hundred,” Elaine said.
“Six hundred and fifty!”
FIVE HUNDRED AND FIFTY!
“Seven hundred.”
Walter’s smile faded. “Birdie, perhaps that’s enough.”
I looked at him. Then at Elaine.
I knew perfectly well she wasn’t taking my husband anywhere.
But watching Walter enjoy another woman’s attention quite so much?
Absolutely not.
GOOD HEAVENS. I’M POPULAR.
“Eight hundred dollars!”
Marge nearly dropped her microphone.
Walter closed his eyes.
The woman lowered her paddle.
“Sold!” Marge announced. “To Birdie!”
SHE WASN’T TAKING MY HUSBAND ANYWHERE.
The room erupted in applause.
I marched forward. “Where’s my certificate, Marge?”
“Congratulations, Birdie. He’s all yours.”
“Thank you. I’ve just purchased the same husband twice. The first time cost me a wedding dress. This time, apparently, my retirement savings.”
EIGHT HUNDRED DOLLARS!
Walter embraced me. “Eight hundred dollars, Trouble. You must really love me.”
“Don’t confuse affection with poor financial judgment.”
He kissed my forehead. “I always knew you couldn’t resist me.”
“Keep talking and I’ll request a refund.”
Then the silver-haired woman approached.
I’VE JUST PURCHASED THE SAME HUSBAND TWICE.
She shook Walter’s hand. “Well, your plan worked better than we expected.”
I froze. “Holy dentures! Your WHAT?!”
Walter’s expression resembled that of a schoolboy caught putting a frog in the principal’s desk.
“Birdie, sweetheart…”
I lowered my glasses. “Start explaining.”
I ALWAYS KNEW YOU COULDN’T RESIST ME.
The woman extended her hand.
“I’m Elaine. Walter and I know each other from the center.”
“How lovely. And why exactly were you trying to purchase my husband?”
Walter cleared his throat. “When Marge announced the lot, I realized you’d set me up.”
“Excellent deduction.”
HOLY DENTURES!
“Then I recognized Elaine.”
She nodded. “He approached me during the microphone break.”
My eyes narrowed.
“What did he say?”
“He asked whether I’d help him turn the joke around.”
I REALIZED YOU’D SET ME UP.
Walter lifted one finger.
“I asked her to keep bidding just long enough to make you nervous.”
“Then why did we reach eight hundred?”
Elaine shrugged.
“Well, you seemed awfully determined. And I’ve been raising money for that roof for months. I figured either way, the center would win.”
I’D HELP HIM TURN THE JOKE AROUND.
“Because you kept bidding!”
“And you kept answering!”
Walter rubbed his forehead. “I tried to tell you to stop.”
“You also advertised your shoulder massages!”
“I panicked!”
YOU SEEMED AWFULLY DETERMINED.
Elaine laughed.
Marge joined us. “Which desperately needs repairing. Thanks to Birdie, we’re eight hundred dollars closer.”
I stared at Walter.
“You forgot our anniversary, gave me bathroom scales, and tricked me into paying eight hundred dollars for my own husband?”
I TRIED TO TELL YOU TO STOP.
“Well, when you put it like that…”
I burst out laughing.
Walter blinked. “Trouble?”
“Oh, Walter.”
“Are you all right?”
WHEN YOU PUT IT LIKE THAT…
“Ten out of ten.”
He straightened.
“Really?”
“Excellent creativity. Impressive improvisation. Two points deducted for costing me eight hundred dollars.”
Walter grinned. “That’s the highest grade you’ve ever given me.”
“Don’t expect extra credit.”
TEN OUT OF TEN.
***
On the drive home, Walter squeezed my hand.
“Still glad you bought me?”
“Ask me after you’ve done the dishes.”
At home, he spotted the bathroom scale.
“You’re keeping that?”
THAT’S THE HIGHEST GRADE YOU’VE EVER GIVEN ME.
“Of course. The scale cost twenty-five dollars. The husband attached to it cost eight hundred.”
He chuckled, then grew serious. “Birdie, were you really that upset?”
“I didn’t care about the gift, Walter. I just wanted you to remember our anniversary without being reminded.”
“I’m sorry, Trouble. I should have.”
THE HUSBAND ATTACHED TO IT COST EIGHT HUNDRED.
“And I should’ve told you how I felt instead of teaching you a lesson.”
He kissed my cheek. “Dinner next Friday? I’ve already booked your favorite restaurant.”
“Without me reminding you?”
“Miracles happen, sweetheart.”
I smiled. I’d finally learned to say what mattered instead of turning everything into a battle.
I JUST WANTED YOU TO REMEMBER OUR ANNIVERSARY.
“Would you buy me again?” he asked.
“Of course. But next time I’ll wait for a seasonal sale.”
I handed him his ownership certificate.
“Now start earning your keep.”
