An Anniversary Argument

By Katie Fitzgerald

Grace Porter awoke on the morning of her first wedding anniversary desperately wanting a do-over. Nothing about this past year had gone as expected, and after last night's ugly argument, she was sure her husband, Ted, had about had it with her. She’d certainly had it with herself.

With a groan and a hand to her baby bump, Grace maneuvered out of bed and down the hall to the bathroom. The mirror reflected the blotchy cheeks and matted hair of a woman who had violated her dad’s cardinal rule and gone to bed angry. It was hormones, everyone kept telling her. “But it’s not just that, is it?” she asked her unborn daughter. Hormones hadn’t made her lose her job, or caused her to struggle to find another. And she’d always had the stubborn, petulant streak that made her say things to Ted she didn’t mean. Hormones had intensified her emotions, but that sharp tongue was all hers.

“If you cared about the baby,” she had scolded her husband, “you’d build the crib tonight!” Last evening, this seemed like the most urgent need. By morning light, she could hear how ridiculous she had sounded. The baby wasn’t due until summer, when Ted would be off from teaching. There was plenty of time. Her issue wasn’t the crib at all, she realized, but Ted’s sunshiney attitude about everything.

Grace and her dad, who had lost Grace’s mom when she was a toddler, were confirmed pessimists. If the glass was half full, they dumped it out. They were most comfortable with worst-case scenarios. Grace needed to talk about her worries - about not having a career, about the pain of labor, about losing the baby, birth defects, SIDS, and all the other things the Internet told her to be concerned about. When Ted said, “Everything’s going to be fine, don’t worry,” Grace felt blind rage overtake her. If everything was fine, she knew what would happen. She needed a roadmap for how they would handle it if everything went sideways. She couldn’t look on the bright side until she made a plan for navigating the darkness.

With a sigh, Grace splashed water on her face, then continued down the hall toward the kitchen. She stopped when she reached the doorway of the second bedroom, which would belong to her little girl in a few months. She gasped as she glimpsed its interior, and tears sprang immediately to her eyes. “Babykins,” she said, using the nickname Ted had bestowed on their little one when they first learned of her existence. “I owe your dad an apology.” She had to apologize because there in the center of the room, fully put together, stood the crib. Grace had screamed at him, questioned his love for her, accused him of not loving their child, and then gone to bed. Ted had taken all of it, and then clearly stayed up half the night trying to make her happy.

In the kitchen, there was further evidence of Ted’s all-nighter. On the table lay his school ID lanyard, obviously forgotten in a rush to get out the door. When Grace went to the fridge for water, she found the lunch he had made for himself still sitting between the milk and last night’s leftovers. “Well,” she addressed her daughter again. “There’s only one thing to do. We’re going to school.”

Thirty minutes later, Grace stood in the lobby of Gilmore Street Elementary School, Ted’s lunch bag and ID in hand. En route to the office to check in, she was stopped in her tracks by the tall, slim frame of Ted in a short-sleeved dress shirt, tie, jeans, and sneakers, trailed by a single-file line of students. The last time she’d looked at this man, she’d wanted to slap him. Now all the warmth and comfort she always felt when she was near her husband came rushing in at once. She was ashamed of herself, and thought she would just duck into the office and let the little note she’d slipped into his lunch bag speak for itself.

At that moment, Ted spoke, “Oh, hey, hold up, fifth grade. That’s Mrs. Porter.” He grinned at Grace as two dozen pairs of ten-year-old eyes fixed on her. “Can you say hi, gang?”

“Hi, Mrs. Porter,” chorused the fifth grade, and Grace knew she was blushing as she gave them all a sheepish wave.

“Everything okay?” Ted asked, lowering his voice to a serious tone as he approached.

Grace nodded, fighting tears. “Mm-hm. You forgot your lunch, that’s all.” She held up his lanyard. “And your ID.”

“I can’t believe they let me in here without that,” Ted joked. “And I didn’t even realize about the lunch. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I’m not,” Grace said in a small voice. “Life wrecker is more like it.”

“Definitely not,” Ted said firmly. “One second.” Addressing his class again, he gave them instructions to walk quietly down the rest of the hallway to the classroom. Then he turned his full attention back to Grace. She realized he never gave her less than that.

“I was mean to you,” Grace said softly. “And then you built the crib.”

Ted shrugged. “It was important to you.”

“I’m a jerk.”

“You’re scared,” Ted said, and Grace’s eyes widened in surprise. He did understand. “If building the crib makes you feel better, then I build the crib.”

“Does that mean we can celebrate our anniversary?”

“Did you think we wouldn’t?” Ted reached out and stroked her cheek.

“It’s been a tough year.” Grace shrugged.

“Sure,” Ted conceded. “But we made it. Together. And we’re having a baby. Why would we not celebrate?”

Grace opened her mouth to argue, but she couldn’t conjure a single reason. “I need to have a plan for what happens when things go wrong,” she blurted instead. “I’m not like you. I can’t just pretend everything will always be sunshine and rainbows.”

“The thing is, though,” Ted said. “I’m not pretending. Because the plan, in every situation, is for us to be together. And as long as I’m with you…” He kissed her nose, and she smiled. “The world could burn down around us, Grace, and I would still be the happiest man alive.”

Grace inhaled sharply, then let out a slow shuddering breath. “I love you,” she said.

“And I love you.” Ted pressed a gentle hand to Grace’s belly. “And you.” He kissed her forehead. “But speaking of things burning down, there are twenty-four unattended fifth graders in my classroom.”

Grace laughed. “You’d better go.”

“Go home,” Ted said. “Relax. Make a list of stuff you need me to do. And then tonight I’m taking you out. Okay? You haven’t wrecked a single thing, and one year later, you are still everything I’ve ever wanted.”

“Okay.” There were no do-overs, and Grace would never be able to change the challenges they’d faced this year, but she knew tonight would be better than last night, and tomorrow better than yesterday, and if they kept that going, they could live a whole happy lifetime that way. “See you at home,” she said. “I can’t wait.”

🩷🩷🩷

Katie Fitzgerald is the author of Library Lovebirds, an ebook collection of bookish romances, and a novel in flash, The Bennetts Bloom. Her short stories and flash fiction appear online at Spark Flash Fiction and Micromance Magazine, as well as in various anthologies. She is a 2024 Sparkie Award recipient for Best Romantic Suspense and a nominee for the Pushcart Prize and the Cupid Prize. A graduate of Vassar College and a trained librarian, Katie resides in Maryland with her husband and five kids.