The Wish

I’m not a loser. I’m a forgetter.

Wayne disputed his wife, Meg’s, occasional nickname for him. He didn’t lose things. He forgot them. Usually little stuff. Essential stuff.

“And I’m not a hoarder. Too much junk. Who keeps all this crap?”

Wayne wrestled another box off the shelf at the back of the garage. He looked inside and shook his head.

“I guess I do. Make that ‘we.’”

The contents were a mélange of random items he should have trashed years ago – letters from people he no longer knew, art tiles, random cutlery, books (never read) and several belt buckles. They’d followed him through several moves. Most of it predated his marriage to Meg.

What am I looking for again…? My old adjustable razor.

He spotted his grandmother’s silver ladle.

Can use that…

He set the ladle aside. Looking about, he sighed at the prospect of reshelving all the boxes scattered about the garage floor.

Should label them... Maybe later.

“Yeah, he went to organize his garage and was never seen again…”

Shovel it all in a dumpster and haul it off. Better yet, ride the decluttering rage. Do an anti-hoarding class - ‘Don’t wait ‘til you die. You’ll never use it again. Toss it now.’

He yanked another container down. The adjacent box tipped, fell and burst on impact. Loose items scattered.

The oldest cardboard box ever seen just took a high dive. Anything break?

He separated loose items for donation from keepers.

How many picture frames does anyone need ‘Just in case…?’

He picked up a small, bright, leather-bound book. The locking clasp snapped in the fall.

Diary… Meg’s?

Several wallet-sized, school pictures slipped out. One was of Meg in junior high. Others were of her with friends. Same clothes, same hair… different faces.

A shiny penny was taped onto the top corner of one page. Written beneath, in Meg’s graceful hand, were the words, ‘For a wish…’

The legend said one should keep a penny for paying the one who grants a wish. Meg had drawn a delicate winged fairy next to the penny.

Jarred loose in the fall, the penny slid from beneath the brittle tape, down the page and out of sight.

Juggling the diary and photos, Wayne hopped back, scanning the floor to see where it landed. Grumbling, he crouched, retrieved it and slipped it into his pocket.

Curious, he flipped through pages filled with doodles of flowers, bees, butterflies and a cat. Her notes detailed observations and dreams of a girl on the cusp of womanhood.

Who was the real Meg, before I met her? Time to meet her. Maybe she’ll stick around.

He always thought he was happy with Meg. But it recently dawned on him that Meg was not so happy with him. Nothing dramatic… just a constant slow burn. Her nickname for him, more habitual than occasional, had begun to grate on him.

He once heard a quote about things going South gradually, and then all at once. It wasn’t about marriage. Could it have been?

Hope not. We used to have so much. What can I do?

He examined the diary for clues. One page had a list. Doodles of balloons with long, strings trailing about crowded the margins. Young Meg had waxed poetic envisioning her perfect birthday party. She noted the colors, number and placement of them. Just any balloons wouldn’t do.

She detailed her cake’s decoration with sketches of the sculpted icing. She wanted it to match her eye color, pale blue. The flavors of the cake and filling had all been specified.

Wayne nodded and shut the diary.

I may be forgetful, but I won’t forget this. Nor will she…

A few days later, on Meg’s birthday, Wayne greeted her at the door on her return from work. With her eyes closed, he led her to the living room. He took the day off to decorate it with clusters of purple, silver and gold balloons. Exactly what Meg planned long ago.

“Happy birthday, Meg... Wait ‘til you see the cake!”

She stopped and took it in. She stepped back and covered her mouth, suppressing her response.

Wayne watched her. Not what he’d expected.

After a pause, she said, “I don’t know what to say…”

She excused herself and left the room.

Wayne followed her into the bedroom. “What’s wrong? I thought you’d be happy.”

She turned. “I am happy…” She dabbed her eyes.

“You don’t look happy.”

“You work so hard with misplaced efforts. And you never learn.”

He let her talk.

“Can’t you ever do something for me that is for me?”

Wayne gaped.

She said, “Balloons? You think I’m ten?”

He handed her the diary.

“This is yours.”

She flipped through it and paused on the page describing her perfect party. She touched the tape where the penny had been and looked at Wayne.

“You read my diary?”

“I wasn’t prying, Meg. I was in the garage. Hit me in the head. Curiosity begged me to peek. I wanted to know you.” Her look almost stopped him. “We’ve become strangers.”

She moved around the room as if preparing to leave.

“You’re just like my brothers… Find anything incriminating?”

“What’re you talking about? I’m not them. You just got home. It’s your birthday. I got reservations. Let’s go to dinner.”

Confronting, she stopped. “Who…? What kind of creep reads someone’s private diary? They read my diary and shamed me in front of the whole school.”

“That’s not me. I thought you’d appreciate my rescuing it. Did you even know it was there?”

“That’s why I put it away.”

“It seemed important to you... I thought maybe still. That you’d enjoy remembering…”

She rummaged through drawers. Rearranged socks.

“You wrote about wishes, hopes… what you want from a man.”

“Nothing about invading my privacy?”

Wayne sighed. “Nope. Did that all on my own.”

He watched her fill the silence with furious, useless activity.

He said, “Meg, tell me…”

“What!”

“What happened to her?”

Meg looked up, exasperated. “Who?”

“That ten-year-old girl. The one with hopes and dreams?”

“Don’t do that, Wayne.”

“I’d like to know her… I used to…”

She tried to stare him down.

“Really, Meg. You know I’m not out to get you. Whatever your brothers did, is not my deal. Where’s that Meg? You know, the Meg I fell for? I’m afraid she’s gotten lost and I’d love to help you find her.”

“You’re crazy…”

“Is she hiding? Have I made her distrust me? I’d hate to lose her. How can I help?”

“Lose her? Or loser?”

“That used to be a joke, which humor now escapes me. I don’t lose things. I forget them, sometimes.”

She looked down. “True…”

Wayne said, “Or do you want to lose me?”

She spoke carefully. “Wayne, I wanted a man with a giving spirit. Not some paint by numbers guy tailoring his actions to a kid’s checklist.”

“Point taken… I had no idea about how hurt you were over your diary. I wanted to celebrate you.”

Meg gave him a steady look. “So, what would you change?”

“To make you feel seen. I doubt… I hope neither of us want what we’ve become.”

“Which is…?”

“Basically roommates. Occupying the same space but sharing nothing but space. I want to connect… or, reconnect with you. I love you. I’m afraid I’m losing you.”

Meg said, “Happens to everyone, Wayne. Puppy love can’t survive the day-to-day…”

“It was never puppy love. Not for me. I’ve always been in one-hundred percent. We used to share… everything. I want you to feel safe. Feel heard… Is it too late?”

She looked out the window.

Wayne said, “Tell me anything.”

Meg scoffed. “You’re kidding. Been there, done...”

“Try me.”

“Look, this is nice. I see, and respect what you say. But we’ve been down that road. The view kind of curdles when we veer ‘round the bend.”

He tried again. “Meg, we could laugh together again. Do silly stuff. You used to sing… I love your voice.”

“You do?”

“And I miss it.”

She began to sing random notes. “La-la-la-la-la-la-la…”

Feeling mocked, Wayne felt his blood pressure rise.

He turned to leave. “Cool. Happy birthday…”

Walking out, he reached into his pocket, but stopped when he pulled Meg’s shiny penny out. He turned back to her, holding it up.

“Oh, almost forgot. You know me… This is yours. Fell out of your book.”

Meg’s eyes brightened. She walked to Wayne and took the coin. She cradled it in her palm, reverently, as something precious.

Smiling she looked up. “My wish.”

He pulled away, “I’ll clean up.”

Meg reached for him. “Leave them. The balloons are perfect.”

Wayne was stunned.

She held out the penny and said, “This is yours. Payment. You granted my wish.”

Wayne laughed. He shook his head. “No, keep it. Put it on account for the next one. Enough of those, we’ll be rich.”

“A man with a plan…” Meg laughed and embraced him. “Sorry about the snit. You know how birthdays affect me…” She took his hand and winked. “Let’s have a nice dinner… save the cake for later.”

“Sounds good.”

Humming a lilting melody, she led him to the door. He sang along.