Go here to read Part 1, and here to read Part 2
"NO!"
"No. No. No. No!!!"
Sold?
My perfect end table was sold?
It couldn't be. It just couldn't be!
Could it?
We had driven all this way, just to find out that the table was sold. It was sold! Miserable. This was beyond miserable. It was like throwing coarse salt into an open, oozing wound, then rubbing it hard. A deep ache agitated my stomach. My hands went from trembling by my face to clenched and thrust by my sides. I wanted to run, screaming from that little store and its abrasive reality, but my leaden feet refused to move from where I stood, just as much as my mind refused to believe the ugly sign that was slapped across the table top.
My table wasn't. It wasn't mine. Someone else had come to that little antique shop on a sunny fall day, had seen it around that corner, had immediately known its beauty, and had bought it. Like I should have done. I'd had the chance, and I'd passed it by.
My family stood by me on either side, silently looking from me, to the table, back to me, then to the table. Nobody knew what to do. What was supposed to be a little birthday celebration for me, was suddenly going all wrong. How were we going to salvage the rest of the day? How was I going to be able to pull it together, forget about the table and the thought of it in someone else's house, go out for ice cream or something, and be fine with it all?
Did I even want to pull it together and be fine with it all?
I couldn't believe this was happening.
Then, I began to wonder, "When did it sell? Did it sell the very same day that I'd found it? Was it earlier this very morning? Or sometime in between?"
I noticed that there was a pink hand-written receipt, folded and stapled to the back of the 'Sold' sign. I had to know: Just which day had I lost my table?
Feeling like I was trespassing onto someone else's property, I picked up the receipt and began to unfold the corner, just a bit, just enough to try to see...
An ugly reality reached out an throttled my neck.
No!
What?
No!
I couldn't take it! I could hardly comprehend it, but there, printed on the receipt, plain as plain, was the person's name who'd bought my table. It was his first name, and it was the same as my husband's, only spelled differently.
Ugh!
"The same name!"
"What are the odds? "
"Can you imagine?"
"Can you believe it?"
These blathering sentences coming from my mouth were punctuated by a grevious angst and pure disgust. The new, proud owner of my table had the same first name as my husband. It was the coarsest of salt in the deepest of wounds.
It was beyond belief.
Suffering from these two hard blows, I realized that I still hadn't seen a date yet, so I unfolded the receipt a little more...and it nearly fell from my hands...
The last name was ours.
Ours?
A sea of tables, sold signs, receipts, first names, last names, red ice cream chairs, fall leaves, old brick buildings, wood floors, clacking heels, and music went swirling, churning, and tumbling together in my mind, for a moment refusing to be sorted out.
Our last name.
I gasped. Like a sudden flash of cold water, a wall of realization hit me full in the face. Drenched in shock and complete confusion, I looked up at my husband. An unmistakable glint shone from his eyes.
"It was YOU? You bought it? You...bought...my...table?"
Nodding his head and laughing, he pulled me into his arms, saying in his deep, sexy voice, "Happy Birthday."
"But how...? You didn't know... I never even told you...," My voice was cracked and warbled, my mind's processes were running at half.
"It was Maureen," he said.
"She called me while I was driving that long way home and told me about a certain little table...she did it all; called the chamber of commerce to get the shop owner's number, called the store, talked them down in the price, gave them my debit card number and name, and purchased it for you, from me."
"Happy Birthday."
Tears. Oh, my. In his arms, embraced; lost in wonder, tears. Overspilling gratitude and joy unspeakable were written in a flowing script down my face. All the details floated down and fell neatly into place.
They did this for me?
But, but, it's just a table, and I am just...me.
Yes.
Simply, yes.
I was overwhelmed. I was blessed. I was loved.
So, so loved.
Once more, I turned and looked.
And there it was.
My table.
