The Tube – Part Seven
Part seven of The Tube takes a short detour back in time, but is no less important to the story for it. Enjoy!
THE TUBE
Concept by Michael Winters and Shane W Smith
Written by Shane W Smith
For their first anniversary, he took her down to the river. Before she’d moved to the city for him, she had lived just near here, and it was her favourite spot in the whole world. He’d blindfolded her for the drive out, but she’d guessed their destination before he’d even gone a mile.
They knew each other so well, and his heart was glad of it.
The momentum of their journey was broken when he realised, almost too late, that he needed to recharge the car. But it didn’t matter; they were young and in love and reveling in whatever time they spent together, and it didn’t matter if it was at a romantic restaurant, or under the sheets, or at a fueling station; every moment elicited a wonderful bliss that carried them unafflicted through time and trouble.
They held hands all the way there, not even letting go to change gears.
Their friends had remarked, on numerous occasions, that they still looked like newlyweds, that even as lovey-dovey couples went, they were special. No one entertained the thought of a split for even a moment; it just seemed a ludicrous concept to apply to them. Indeed, even when separated for a short while, they felt insubstantial, incomplete, ethereal; and their hearts ached to be reunited.
Their love was perhaps not so remarkable to people who didn’t know them, but to Shane and Katherine, it was the stuff that epics are made from. Everything Shakespeare had drummed it up to be, and more besides. At times, it seemed they each drew breath only in order to watch the other do the same.
He had loaded the car while she was in the shower; it was likely she knew his plans, because she had spent an unusually long time getting ready, ostensibly to allow him the time to prepare whatever surprise he had planned. When they arrived at the river, he popped open the boot and withdrew a bunch of flowers he had bought the night before, and a picnic basket that he had packed that morning.
They spread out a rug at a secluded spot by the rippling water and ate their food, toasting their anniversary with some chilled champagne that he had brought along. He had never much cared for the taste of champagne, but when shared with his love, it tasted like heaven. Afterwards, they had thrown their scraps to the ducks, and made love under the cover of some nearby foliage. The day was perfect.
Later, he gave her the gift he had picked out. Of course, because he knew her so well, it was perfect, and she said so, and embraced him enthusiastically.
In return, she wordlessly proffered a present the approximate dimensions of a gift pen.
He took a moment to note the barely-concealed excitement on her face, and peeled away the wrapping paper. He withdrew a beautiful box of polished wood and paused to thank her. She gestured that he should open it; he obeyed, and stopped short when he realised there was no pen inside.
He pulled out a small plastic device. Its window had a big, blue plus sign on it.
He wept with joy.
Having spent a day in solitude and returned to bed none the wiser, this wonderful memory is what Shane was dreaming of, with a broad and wistful smile on his face, when the pain began again.
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Dude…
So great.