Unbroken

A story about not giving up on the one you love by J.E. Dyer

Lisa sat across the table from her husband, frustrated by his blank stare. He has to remember me. I’m at my wit’s end. Patrons packed pub, downing pints of green brew. A pair of inebriated gents tossed darts in one corner, while two couples shot nine-ball on the elevated platform in the back.

She sipped her green beer and looked at Nate. “Remember when this used to be just another hole-in-the-wall joint?” Lisa chuckled. “It was us and maybe three other people in the entire bar on any given date.”

Nate’s helpless blue eyes peered into her, through her. “It’s a nice place.” He scratched his thinning mop of gray hair and studied their surroundings. “Could use a few more lights.”

Lisa picked a chip from the basket at the center of their table and scooped up a dollop of nacho dip. “Anything here spark a memory?” She ate her chip. “Jar any emotions?”

Nate squinted at the pool table behind her and smiled. “Something about this place makes me feel warm inside.”

She washed her bite down with another swig of cold beer. “Right! It should.”

His sags of unkempt skin condensed. His brows furrowed. “Can’t put my finger on it.”

She slumped onto the tabletop. I hope you can. I can’t lose you again.

A server in a green bowler hat stopped at Lisa’s side. A shamrock blinked on the young woman’s shirt. “Decided?”

“I think so,” Lisa said.

Their server jotted down their orders and tapped her pad with the end of her pen. “I’ll have those out in a jiff.”

Lisa thanked her and pivoted back on her soulmate. “Fifty years ago.” She set a hand on his. Nate’s tremors shook them both.

“I was in school then,” he said. “Fillmore High.”

She hummed an affirmation through her tears.

Nate stared at the ceiling, lost in thought. “Barracuda. Four-barrel. V-eight.”

Lisa blotted her eyes with her napkin. “That was the car, all right.” She curled her fingers around his and squeezed. “The Starlight Drive-In? Our second date? Remember that?”

His gaze moistened as he searched. “Cherry Coke. You spilled your soda.”

“I couldn’t help it.” She leaned closer to him. “That damn movie, The Exorcist, I think it was? Scared the buhjeezus outa me.” Lisa rubbed his forearm. “That’s it. Keep going.” She glanced around the pub. “I had a feeling this place might help.”

Nate blinked slowly and eased into his seat. “What use is it all now?” He grabbed his beer and went for a drink, but dribbled some of it onto his jeans. “Damn it.” He dabbed his lap with a napkin. “Best to put me in that home and lead me out to pasture.”

“Stop.” She fought the urge to help him and stayed put.

“I’m damaged beyond repair.” He tossed the spent napkin onto the table. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Nate opened a straw and stabbed it into his mug of beer. “Am I?” He motioned to his pint. “I can’t even take a drink without screwing it up.”

“You’re not as bad as you think.” She plucked another chip from the basket.

He bent forward and drew a sip up his straw. “Might as well get out while the getting’s good.”

“I haven’t left your side in half a century, have I?”

He grumbled and took a chip in an unsteady hand. “Guess not.”

“No, I guess not,” she said. “I brought you to Mac’s Pub for a reason, dear.”

“I’m sure you did,” he said. “Something about this place…”

Lisa picked up her pint and hid behind its brim. I don’t want to tell him. Shouldn’t have to. The emptiness behind his eyes told her the puzzle pieces hadn’t come together yet. Nate lowered his defeated gaze to the dented table. “I’m sorry, I---”

Lisa thumped the butt of her fist next to the chip basket. “Think.” She quickly retracted her hand. “Sorry. Please, I need you to remember.” The penned up anguish found its release. Her chest hitched. “I need you to remember me.”

His mouth hung agape. “Of course. You’re my wife.”

She recovered and took a drink. “What’s my name?”

Her husband looked like a puppy scorned. “Well, it’s…”

Lisa’s resolve crumbled. “You brought me here on our first date.” She took both his hands in hers. “You got down on one knee in this very spot.” More warm tears streamed from her eyes. “For me, please. Tell me.”

Nate rose from his seat and knelt on the dusty planks at her side. He took a cleansing breath and look into her eyes. “Lisa Anne Wilkins, will you marry me?”

Her vision blurred in tears of hope. “Yes.”