My 10th wedding anniversary was supposed to be one of the best nights of my life. Instead, it became the night I realized my marriage was already over. My name is Billy, and Wanda had been my wife for 10 years. We weren't one of those couples who posted pictures every week pretending everything was perfect. We had a normal marriage.
We worked, paid bills, argued about stupid things, made up, traveled when we could, and built a life together. At least that's what I thought. For our 10th anniversary, I wanted to do something special. I made a reservation at a restaurant on the other side of the city. It was a quiet place overlooking the river with a private dining area and a reputation for being difficult to book.
I reserved the table almost 2 months in advance. I also bought Wanda a watch. She had seen it in a store several months earlier and told me she loved it. I remembered the exact model. On the afternoon of our anniversary, I picked it up, put the box in my jacket pocket, and left work early.
Wanda and I had agreed to meet at the restaurant at 7:00. I arrived at 6:45. The hostess led me to our table. I sat down and checked my phone. 6:50, then 6:55.
At exactly 7:00, I sent Wanda a message. I asked if she was already on her way. No response. I wasn't worried yet. Traffic could be bad.
At 7:10, I called her. No answer. I waited another 10 minutes and called again. Still nothing. At 7:20, I finally received a message.
She said she was running late. I looked at the time. How late? I asked. She didn't answer.
I leaned back in my chair. The waiter came over. Would you like to order something while you wait? Give her another 20 minutes. He nodded.
I tried to stay calm. At 7:30, I called Wanda again. This time, she answered, "Where are you? I'm on my way. You've been saying that for half an hour.
I know. I'm sorry. What happened?" There was a pause. Something came up.
What kind of something? I'll explain when I get there. Then she ended the call. I stared at my phone. Something about her voice bothered me.
She wasn't rushed. She wasn't stressed. She sounded nervous. I waited another 15 minutes. At 7:45, I called again.
No answer. I wasn't going to sit there all night. At 8, exactly 1 hour after our reservation time, I ordered dinner for myself. I wasn't doing it to punish her. I was hungry, and I wasn't going to let someone else's disrespect make me sit there starving.
The waiter brought my food. I started eating. 20 minutes later, Wanda finally walked through the restaurant doors. I immediately noticed something was wrong. Her hair wasn't the way she'd styled it earlier.
Her makeup looked slightly worn. She was wearing the same outfit she'd left home in, but her jacket was open and hanging loosely from her shoulders. She walked toward the table. Hi. I looked at my watch.
You're an hour late. I know. She sat down. I'm sorry. Where were you?
She picked up the menu. I told you something came up. You also said you'd explain. She avoided my eyes. Billy, can we not do this tonight?