The Right Words

She asked me what the one thing was that I would save in a fire. I thought for a moment, not sure if I should answer truthfully or tell her something that would make her happy. What would make her happy, what does she want to hear? I was thinking about it for too long, so I just picked. Wedding photo that I keep on the desk in my office. A nice compromise of a selection I thought.

She got upset. Upset that it had taken me so long to answer, and that when I answered I didn't say her. She wanted me to say, Why, of course I would save you, sweetheart. What kind of question is that? But of course I assumed she was in the other room, saving something of her own, that's how these hypotheticals work. Had I answered the way she wanted would it still have been what she wanted to hear? Is it one way in your head and another way in my mouth? Would you want me to describe you as a thing? I'll never be sure.

When we were young, and dating, I remember sitting in front of her on the over-sized cushiony chair in her living room. She asked me if she thought we'd get married. We were seventeen. I told her this was entrapment. She said no, it wasn't. I said yes, it was. We never brought it up again, until I popped the question four years later.

It's a beautiful picture of us. We both look so happy, so incredibly fulfilled. We look the way you'd want young newlyweds to look. I thought it was sweet. I thought it was a good answer. I thought it was a damn good answer.

I sit in my office now and I turn the picture away. I turn it back when I leave of course, and when I hear her coming down the hall. Funny how quickly my ears fine-tuned themselves to that noise. Funny's not really the right word. But it's the word I'll use.