Date Night

A Story by Bkraky

It was 8 pm when he had picked her up for their first date 7 years ago and even now as he drove toward the theater, he could remember what she had worn, what she smelled like, and the little half grin that appeared after she had gotten into his paint-chipped old Ford.
Every year since they were married only 8 months after that night, they would relive their date as if it were happening all over again. The car would change, and so would the clothes, but never the routine, and never the feelings between the two of them. Their first stop had been a drive in theater that frankly, they were surprised still existed after so many years. But neither of them had ever complained. They had made friends with the owner of the drive-in early into their relationship and it had become a custom for him to show the same movie on this particular date just for the two of them. Godzilla. The really old, crappy version. It never was the movie that had made the night for them though, because it was never the whole film they were thinking about on their many dates, it was only the parts where little milestones in their relationship had been reached.
He had built up the strength enough during one scene to slowly inch his hand toward hers and grab hold of it. Whether she took it as fear of the movie, he never found out... But she didn't take her hand away for the rest of the movie, and neither had he.
The movie ended and he knew the drill: the next place they always went was the hill at the top of the town.
By then it was 10:30 and he had planned the date perfectly for the two of them. It had taken about 15 minutes to drive up the winding roads to the tip of the hill that overlooked the city and when they finally stopped, he opened his door and looked at his date attempting to read her expressions. She had a hint of confusion in her face, but smirked and gestured out the window saying, "Well, the view's not going to see itself, is it?"
He brought a blanket and food just as always: his mother's homemade casserole, a dish which at the time of their first date had, In fact, been made by his mother, but that he had perfected and now made himself.
They had eaten, or rather, she had eaten and he fought nervous feelings of nausea as they talked and enjoyed the lights of the city below. Every second of their date brought with it a new view of her he liked even more than the last. They talked about the future and where they both wanted to be in 5 years. He wanted to be a lawyer and she aspired to become a veterinarian. Never once did conversation become dull, nor did she miss a chance to pepper in one of her witty comments that he was quickly warming up to. By midnight, the food was gone and he knew the night was at an end. On the drive back, she had slowly inched her hand toward his and grabbed hold, and neither of them let go until they pulled up to her house.
In front of her door, he told her he hoped they could do it again sometime. She simply looked at him, smiled, said, "only if it's not Godzilla again", and leaned in to kiss him for the very first time.
7 years into the future, on the drive home, he remembered standing outside her door knowing that was just the first of many dates, but not the last of many surprises.
When he pulled up to their house he sat in the car for a moment and reflected on the date he had just relived alone, then walked inside quietly, hoping not to wake his 4 year old son who was asleep in his room. He saw the picture of their family on the wall in the hallway. Himself, his wife, and their son, taken two years before.
Then he remembered the hospital.
He remembered the walk to her room that night, and remembered waking up in the chair by her bed. She had been letting him sleep, not wanting to wake him. But how he'd wished she had. How he'd wished they could go on their first date one more time. And he knew she understood what he was thinking, because she simply looked at him, flashed a small grin, slowly inched her hand toward his and grabbed hold. Only after she drifted off to sleep, did she let go.