In the beginning, he used to hide the gift away too. When I tore the wrapping open, he'd ask, as if it were nothing:
"Do you like it?"
The fifth year, or was it the sixth?
After that it became, "I'll get to it when I have time."
Later still, even those few words disappeared.
I unzipped my bag, pulled the box out, and set it in his hands.
Ned Weiss patted my head, his voice softening.
"Kathleen, when I have some time later…"
I cut him off.
"Go on, then. Don't keep her waiting."
It was two in the morning before Ned came home.
He saw me sitting on the sofa, and his brows drew together.
"Why aren't you in bed?"
I didn't even look at him. I just sat there, blank.
Ned walked over to stand in front of me.
"You're angry? I only went to help Bertha move. Do you really have to act like this?"
I lifted my head and looked at him.
"After the move, you took her to Maple Court, didn't you?"
Ned went still.
"You followed me?"
I turned my phone toward him.
It was a post Bertha had put up half an hour ago.
In the photo, the whole table was covered with Maple Court's signature dishes, and across the frame was a hand wearing a wristwatch. Ned's hand.
"That's the restaurant we went to on our first date. And you had to take her there, today of all days?"
Ned finished reading, and his face darkened.
"She hadn't eaten all day. After moving she was pale as a sheet. What's wrong with me buying her a meal?"
"We just happened to pass by and there was an open table, so we ate there. Do you have to twist every single thing into something ugly?"
A sudden exhaustion washed over me. I lowered my head and said nothing.
Ned faltered, then gentled his tone.
"All right, I was harsh just now too."
"Did seeing that host at the show today make you happy?"
The truth was, I'd stopped watching that show three years ago.
Three years ago, the show had just started when Bertha's call came in.
She said the power was out at her place, and she was scared.
Ned took his phone out to the balcony.
Before he left, he told me to turn the volume down.
After that, every time I heard that host's opening lines, I'd picture him standing on the balcony with his back to me.
I didn't answer his question. I turned to go back to my room.
"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."
Ned shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the back of the sofa.
"Don't go out tomorrow morning. The crew is coming to the house to film a follow-up segment."
I stopped where I stood.
"Film what?"
He paused.
"Today's footage didn't turn out well. The director wants to add a live stream, to bring the tenth-anniversary mood back around."
Just then, my phone chimed.
It was the reshoot rundown from one of the crew.
It said: Ned apologizes to me, I reminisce about ten years of marriage, the host guides the couple into an embrace.
In the guest segment, Bertha's name was listed too.
The note read: Miss Jenner explains the misunderstanding about the blue-dress restaurant gift.
After that came my instruction: the wife responds cooperatively, shows understanding.
I asked,
"Understand what?"
Ned looked away.
"People online are already cutting clips. Someone just got a photo of me having dinner with Bertha tonight, with her carrying the tenth-anniversary gift I gave you, and people are saying some nasty things."
"Saying what?"
He frowned.
"Saying I brought the wrong wife. Saying Bertha's the one who looks like my wife."
"And?"
"And tomorrow you say a few words, following the host's lead."
"Just say I was only helping a friend move, the restaurant was a coincidence, and the gift was a last-minute fix. That you never gave it a second thought."
