She’s the perfect woman. Beautiful, bright, with a smile
that lights a room and a wit that guarantees I laugh out loud every single day
of our life together.
And what’s better, I managed at some point along the line to
trick her into thinking she can’t do any better than me.
Nobody tell her she can, okay?
I love her.
I want us to grow old together.
Fortunately, we both have a theater background, and know
enough people who know enough about stage makeup that we don’t have to wait for
that to happen naturally.
Instead, we’re walking down the street, me with a cane, her
with a walker, enjoying the looks on our neighbor’s faces as they struggle to
figure out where they’ve seen us before.
We look to be about eighty. White hair, deep lines across
our faces, a stoop to our slow, shuffling walks.
I’ve got a bit of a hunch, under my shirt. Padding, to
simulate the real hunch I’ll have after fifty years of leaning in to kiss her.
She’s got a boil on the side of her neck. No reason, she just thought a boil
would be hilarious.
We were in the makeup chairs for close to three hours.
Totally worth it.
I was going to scream at the passing kids to get off my
lawn, but she rightly pointed out that this is us after fifty years of
happiness, and I might not have that sort of anger in me.
So instead, we’re taking a slow walk around the block. Her
hands on her walker, one of mine on my cane, the other on the small of her
back, enjoying a warm, summer day and the prospect of a lifetime together.
Happy, and temporarily old, and still very much in love. Enjoying each other’s
company and the pained expressions we get as our neighbours pass and try to fit
what they see into their worldview.
“Hello, sonny,” she says to one of them as his eyes go wide
and he suddenly realizes who we are, “would you like a Werther’s?”
She holds out the caramel to him and he has no idea what to
do. He just stares as we walk by, laughing.
I hadn’t known she’d brought some along. She’s not eating
sugar and I never much liked them. She must have bought them for this bit, and
this bit alone.
Such careful attention to detail.
Christ, I love her.
