TWENTY-ONE

Grab your roses that cost way too much money at the grocery store. Fiddle with the chocolates that she’s not supposed to have because it gives her anxiety from the caffeine. Take a mental note of the moment you’re both anticipating and dreading and don’t let your mind drift off to distant places like her co-workers or her family or her girlfriends.

Especially not her girlfriends.

Focus as you get to the counter and pretend to hide your smirk as the store clerk winks at you, with her soft lips, rosy cheeks, and radiant eyes...

Think: this ring feels way too heavy.

Ignore these thoughts; they’ll only slow you down.

Travel to the parking lot where you find your car has been vandalized by bird droppings. Sigh, and get into the car anyway.

Throw the roses on the passenger side that’s still got stains from her hair products, lipstick, and ice cream. Wipe the seat from the flower dirt, turn on your car, and go.

As you drive past the train tracks that are still cold from a winter snow, you see your apartment building. It’s rather large, with big open windows and an ugly gray color. You’ve driven to this place a hundred times before, but seeing it now gives you only the slightest bit of anxiety.

At the top of this complex, you see the light that looks on from the outside, and you see a slender figure walking around. You notice this person combing their hair and curling it, going once, twice, then three times. She’s meticulous, you think, she’s really trying to look her best. Can she, though, when compared to…?

Shudder as you realize what you just said.

Enter the hallway to the apartment and look down as you avoid eye contact with the slender, tall girl who walks her small little dog. Glance as she gives you a smile, pursing her lips as she departs. Don’t stop to look back at her; that’s improper. Realize that you’re behind schedule on your mission, so get up the elevator, to the door, and open it.

I’m home, you call out as you enter your home. It’s nothing much, you shrug, but it’s here. You notice the dirty dishes in the sink and strategize how you’re going to get them done. You observe the fat cat in the corner licking its paws as it glares at you. You shiver at how cold it is inside despite it being even colder outside.

And then, in the middle of the living room, is her.

The first thing you should notice is her hair, curled up and twirled around to hide a little of her eye with the rest kept in place by a barrette. You should notice her lipstick: red with a touch of brown and accentuating her lovely eyes. You should notice how she’s dressed in a gorgeous red dress with glittering sparkles that gleam in the light of the winter day.

But whatever you do, don’t say “what’s the occasion?” and chuckle.

You did, didn’t you?

She grimaces at you, and you are more than confused. So confused in fact that you didn't remember you left the roses and the chocolates in the car. You may have forgotten about it when you were daydreaming about the store clerk's wink.

Be oblivious. Ask her how her day was. She says it was fine. You at least know her well enough to say that you know it’s not fine. Give her a playful little nudge. She doesn’t budge. She stands there, still as a statue, arms crossed and ready.

You try to pry her arms open, gently at first. Don’t let this be like last night, or the night before that. Instead, look around to see a way to fix this. You see a guitar leaning against the wall in the corner. Grab it, brush off the dust and cobwebs, and strum a tune. Her arms ease a little.

Recall a tune from your early days when you both had longer hair and nicer cars and nicer living quarters. Hum a little. Get lost in it and forget what you were singing in the first place. Remember the song you used to sing to her that had the funny tune. The woman who was laughing then was not laughing now. Snap out of it, and see her staring back at you.

You forgot, she says. No, you say. Lay the guitar on the floor and get closer to her. She pulls away, and now you feel guilty.

What are you going to do?

Think: the number twenty-one. It was your lucky number. You could recite it and say it again and again. You’ve done it; you’ve found a way to fix this. Even if you forgot the flowers and chocolates and outfit, you’ve found a way to win.

Get out a notepad and pen. Write down this phrase:

TWENTY-ONE REASONS WHY I LOVE YOU

Fiddle with the pen in your mouth and glance over at her, now turned towards you, curious as the fat cat purring near her heels. Smirk a little as if you were playing cards and this was your ace in the hole.

Start from the bottom of the deck, and pick out the cards that they don’t expect.

For REASON #1, write: Your smile is illuminating.

Don’t forget to chuckle softly, like you’re getting away with murder.

REASON #2: Your eyes are radiant.

REASON #3: Your hair glistens in the daylight and moonlight.

REASON #4: You are great with our cat, however fat he is.

REASON #5: You can be yourself with no one holding you back.

REASON #6: You are so great with your family and love them very much.

REASON #7: You have a good heart.

REASON #8: You aren't wasteful and don't spend much.

REASON #9: You are studious and thoughtful.

Continue to write and sneak little glances at her as she looks at you, her eyes halfway closed, unconvinced of the charade you’re pulling off.

REASON #10: You have a great body. (Emphasize great)

Don't panic; you’ve run out of reasons, and now your mind is drifting to other great bodies.

Regain yourself and keep going.

REASON #11: You like to chill, and not do too much. (Oh, that's nice, she mumbles)

REASON #12: You are low-maintenance. (Wow, really? She says incredulously. You're losing the game!)

REASON #13: Your indecisiveness when picking a movie allows us to always watch something new.

REASON #14: You are brave; when I don’t want to kill bugs, you do it for me. (She chuckles)

REASON #15: You have as bad of a memory as me! (She laughs)

REASON #16: You are a terrible cook, which helps us explore new restaurants. (She grits her teeth to a smile.)

REASON #17: You don’t like to hang up photos of us because it’s too vain. (True, she says)

REASON #18: You like to read often, which makes you more intelligent than everyone else.

REASON #19: You never wake me up while I’m sleeping, and I appreciate it!

REASON #20: You're rooted in the now, but always thinking ahead.

She pauses and looks at you. That sounds like you, not me, she says.

And now, for the final reason. This one had to be good, the coup de grâce, the grand finale, the card to win the game. This one was your blackjack.

REASON #21: You didn’t look under the sofa when you sat down.

She blinks. Hurriedly, she checks under the sofa and sees a little black book. You placed that there much earlier in the day, while she was still sleeping before you left for the store. Inside this book was a picture of you two from your earlier days with the long hair, and a check for $20,000. On the check, it says her name: “Maria Jeanette Tolliver." Next to the check, in the book, it says, “For adventures and misadventures. Love, Ben”

Watch her lose breath as the book trembles in her hand. You’ve done it.

Between breaths, her curiosity strikes again: what is it? Where did it come from? How did you get it?

Explain that it's from a savings account you started for her, and that this year, you'd give it to her. That, you explain, was twenty-one years ago to the day. On the back of the check, it said, "Happy Anniversary." This was your final card: the moment you'd been dreading because of its importance and anticipating because of her reaction. Surprising your beautiful wife with a real, honest-to-goodness honeymoon to Hawaii - the very first thing she wished for when you married her.

Tears well up in her eyes, and you walk over to her. You hold her close as she shakes in your arms.

Remind yourself, and her, that you don’t need 20,000 reasons to love her. You don’t even need twenty-one. You just need one:

Out of all the people in the world who can make you laugh, share ice cream with you, be frugal and fun, be thoughtful and meticulous, and indecisive and infuriating, it’s her. And you: you would choose her every single time.

Now, kiss her rosy cheek and compliment her beautiful dress. Watch her smile as you wrap your fingers around hers, her head resting on your chest. Dance for a few minutes, or even an hour. At this point, it doesn't matter.