He Got Every Question Wrong on Our 10th Anniversary

For our tenth wedding anniversary, my husband took me on a couples'-compatibility challenge show.

The producers said that if we got all ten questions right, they'd throw us a second wedding ceremony, live on the spot.

First question: what was my favorite color.

He answered, Blue.

I held up my answer board. It read White.

Down in the audience, his first love, Bertha Jenner, sat in a blue dress, smiling as she waved her blue phone in the air.

Second question: what was I allergic to.

He answered, "Mango."

Another answer that fit Bertha perfectly.

Third question: what was I most afraid of.

He answered, "Thunder."

But what I was truly afraid of was fire.

Ten years ago, I pulled him out of a burning car, and ever since, fire was the thing I feared most.

Of the ten questions about me, he didn't get a single one right.

Yet every answer belonged to Bertha.

The host asked, half-joking, "Mr. Weiss, did you bring the wrong wife?"

He glanced at Bertha and gave an easy laugh.

"Ten years married. Who keeps track of little things like that?"

The final segment was writing a letter to ourselves, ten years from now.

Ned Weiss bent his head and wrote with great care.

I slid off the wedding ring I'd worn for ten years and wrote two words on the page.

Divorce.

The host smiled, smoothing it over for us. "Mr. Weiss works too hard, that's all. Looks like he really does need to spend more time with his wife."

Ned picked up the microphone, his tone gentle. "Honestly, getting the questions right doesn't matter. I brought her on this show because she's a huge fan of yours."

A wave of envious gasps rose from the audience.

I looked at him and said nothing.

Two weeks earlier, Ned had come home holding the taping notice.

He said he'd poured a lot of money into the show to win me this spot, then lowered his head and asked, "Happy now? After we finish taping, we'll go to the restaurant for our anniversary."

"And while we're riding the buzz, we'll set up a foundation. Isn't this exactly the kind of thing you love doing?"

I'd held that notice in my hand and laughed for a long time.

Then Bertha's call came through out of nowhere.

She said the moving company had bailed on her last minute and she couldn't get everything packed alone.

Ned soothed her with a few words, then looked up at me. "I'll go help her after taping. We'll make up the dinner another day. We already did the show together for you, so it's fine, right?"

He asked it gently, but his finger was already tapping open the restaurant's reservation page.

By the time the cancellation-confirmed message popped up, I hadn't even answered yet.

When the taping wrapped, I walked out alone.

The host came toward me, and seeing me by myself, he paused. "Mrs. Weiss? Mr. Weiss didn't walk out with you?"

I forced out a smile. "Something urgent came up at his company. He left ahead of me."

The words had barely left my mouth when Ned came back.

The host immediately teased, smiling, "Mr. Weiss, running back this fast? Can't bear to part with your wife, so you came back for her?"

Ned's gaze landed on my bag. "Give me back that blue box I just handed you."

I froze for a second. "Wasn't that my tenth-anniversary gift?"

Ned looked at me as if the question were pointless. "The host suddenly brought up a gift back there. I couldn't very well say I didn't have one."

"That's the housewarming present I'm giving Bertha."

I gripped the strap of my bag and said nothing.

Ned lowered his voice. "Don't make a scene at a time like this. Your gift, I'll get you one later when I have time."

Later.

When I have time.

Those two words, he'd said them too many times over the years.

What year was it that he'd stopped preparing an anniversary gift ahead of time?

In the beginning, he used to hide the gift away too. When I tore the wrapping open, he'd ask, as if it were nothing:

"Do you like it?"

The fifth year, or was it the sixth?

After that it became, "I'll get to it when I have time."

Later still, even those few words disappeared.

I unzipped my bag, pulled the box out, and set it in his hands.

Ned Weiss patted my head, his voice softening.

"Kathleen, when I have some time later"

I cut him off.

"Go on, then. Don't keep her waiting."

It was two in the morning before Ned came home.

He saw me sitting on the sofa, and his brows drew together.

"Why aren't you in bed?"

I didn't even look at him. I just sat there, blank.

Ned walked over to stand in front of me.

"You're angry? I only went to help Bertha move. Do you really have to act like this?"

I lifted my head and looked at him.

"After the move, you took her to Maple Court, didn't you?"

Ned went still.

"You followed me?"

I turned my phone toward him.

It was a post Bertha had put up half an hour ago.

In the photo, the whole table was covered with Maple Court's signature dishes, and across the frame was a hand wearing a wristwatch. Ned's hand.

"That's the restaurant we went to on our first date. And you had to take her there, today of all days?"

Ned finished reading, and his face darkened.

"She hadn't eaten all day. After moving she was pale as a sheet. What's wrong with me buying her a meal?"

"We just happened to pass by and there was an open table, so we ate there. Do you have to twist every single thing into something ugly?"

A sudden exhaustion washed over me. I lowered my head and said nothing.

Ned faltered, then gentled his tone.

"All right, I was harsh just now too."

"Did seeing that host at the show today make you happy?"

The truth was, I'd stopped watching that show three years ago.

Three years ago, the show had just started when Bertha's call came in.

She said the power was out at her place, and she was scared.

Ned took his phone out to the balcony.

Before he left, he told me to turn the volume down.

After that, every time I heard that host's opening lines, I'd picture him standing on the balcony with his back to me.

I didn't answer his question. I turned to go back to my room.

"I'm tired. I'm going to sleep."

Ned shrugged off his coat and tossed it over the back of the sofa.

"Don't go out tomorrow morning. The crew is coming to the house to film a follow-up segment."

I stopped where I stood.

"Film what?"

He paused.

"Today's footage didn't turn out well. The director wants to add a live stream, to bring the tenth-anniversary mood back around."

Just then, my phone chimed.

It was the reshoot rundown from one of the crew.

It said: Ned apologizes to me, I reminisce about ten years of marriage, the host guides the couple into an embrace.

In the guest segment, Bertha's name was listed too.

The note read: Miss Jenner explains the misunderstanding about the blue-dress restaurant gift.

After that came my instruction: the wife responds cooperatively, shows understanding.

I asked,

"Understand what?"

Ned looked away.

"People online are already cutting clips. Someone just got a photo of me having dinner with Bertha tonight, with her carrying the tenth-anniversary gift I gave you, and people are saying some nasty things."

"Saying what?"

He frowned.

"Saying I brought the wrong wife. Saying Bertha's the one who looks like my wife."

"And?"

"And tomorrow you say a few words, following the host's lead."

"Just say I was only helping a friend move, the restaurant was a coincidence, and the gift was a last-minute fix. That you never gave it a second thought."

I let out a small laugh.

"I didn't take it to heart?"

Ned's voice dropped.

"This isn't the time for you to pull that jealous-wife act."

"A scene like this getting out doesn't do the company's image any good either."

"Bertha's just a girl, and people are tearing her apart online. Doesn't that bother you?"

The next day, the production crew arrived right on schedule with their equipment.

I sat down in front of the makeup mirror anyway.

Ten years of marriage had brought us here, and I didn't want it to end as some ugly spectacle.

I thought the reshoot was just a few extra takes, a way to wrap the show up with some dignity.

The assistant director's voice carried in from the living room.

"Everyone online last night was saying Mr. Weiss and Miss Jenner are too close, so we have to add this segment."

"Once we lay out the whole story of how she saved his life back then, the audience will understand that Mr. Weiss treats Miss Jenner differently out of gratitude, not anything romantic."

I walked up behind Ned. He was bent over the interview outline.

The question circled in red pen read:

Ten years ago, in the highway crash, Miss Jenner ran into the flames to pull you out. What was going through your mind in that moment?

The key points for the answer below it read:

She's the person I'll spend the rest of my life repaying.

In that crash ten years ago, Bertha was still Ned's girlfriend, and she abandoned him and ran the second the car caught fire.

In the end, I was the one who dragged Ned out of the flames. And he and Bertha were finished for good after that day.

It wasn't until half a year later, when we ran into each other again, that he started pursuing me.

Ned saw me and flipped the outline shut.

"Don't read into it. It's just for the show."

I asked, "So you're going to say she was the one who saved you back then?"

His brow furrowed.

"I talked it over with the director this morning. It's best if we put the gratitude out there, so people don't get the wrong idea about her and me."

"And what about me?"

Ned was silent for a moment, then softened his tone.

"Kathleen, isn't it enough that the two of us know the truth? Do we really have to spell it all out on camera?"

Bertha walked in just then.

"Ned, let's just drop it. I don't want this causing a fight between you two."

Ned turned to her at once.

"It's fine, don't worry about it."

When he turned back to me, his voice had gone cold.

"You're my wife. What's so hard about backing me up on one line? Do you actually want to watch everyone drag us through the mud?"

Before I could say anything, the assistant director came over.

"Mr. Weiss, the live stream's about to start. Could you all come this way?"

Ned shot me a look and lowered his voice. "Don't embarrass me out there."

With that, he turned and walked toward the cameras.

When I followed, the host was going over the rundown with Bertha, cue cards in hand.

"Miss Jenner, you don't need to say much later. Just walk us through how you pulled Mr. Weiss out of the car back then. After that, we'll move into the charity foundation announcement."

My steps stalled.

"What charity foundation?"

Ned frowned.

"I told you half a month ago I wanted to use this show to launch a foundation."

The host added with a smile, "Mr. Weiss wants to start a fire rescue foundation in Miss Jenner's name, to commemorate that life-or-death rescue all those years ago."

"It's a really moving angle. The audience will eat it up."

I looked at Ned.

He sighed. "It was supposed to be in your name, honestly. But Bertha said she'd been through this kind of trauma too, that she wanted to help more people."

"So I gave the name to her. Kathleen, it's only a name."

The live stream lights came up.

The host smiled at the camera.:

There were a lot of guesses online last night, so today we've invited the three people involved to tell everyone the real story.

Bertha Jenner sat beside Ned Weiss, her eyes faintly red.

I really didn't want to bring this up.

But I don't want everyone to misunderstand Ned. The reason he treats me differently is only because I saved him back then.

The comments scrolled by in a flood.

The host turned to me.:

Mrs. Weiss, you must know all about what happened back then too, don't you?

A crew member held a cue card up in front of my eyes.

It read::

Thank Miss Jenner for saving my husband, and express understanding for his years of looking after her.

I looked at that line, and suddenly I smiled.

Ned's expression shifted slightly.

I took the microphone and didn't read off the card.

Of course I know.

The camera pushed in close.

I raised my arm and slowly rolled up my sleeve, baring the vicious burn scar across my forearm.

So I'd like to ask Miss Jenner something too.

The day you charged into the fire, which hand got burned?

The live stream went silent for a beat.

Bertha's face went white, and she instinctively pulled both hands back into her sleeves.

Ned reacted first.

He seized my wrist and yanked the rolled-up sleeve back down.

Kathleen, we're live. Stop making a scene.

I shook his hand off and rolled the sleeve back up.

Aren't we here to tell the real story?

This is what that day left behind.

The camera visibly wobbled, and backstage fell into chaos at once.

The assistant director was signaling frantically, and the smile froze on the host's face.

All at once Bertha clutched her chest, her breathing turning ragged.

I'm sorryI really don't want to talk about that accidentI'm so scared

Ned let go of me at once and turned to steady her.

Bertha!

A crew member brought water, the makeup artist patted her back, and everyone crowded around her.

Soon the hushed murmurs were burrowing into my ears from every direction.

Mrs. Weiss is so cruel, cornering her like that on a live stream.

Miss Jenner already has trauma from the fire. Isn't she provoking her on purpose, doing that?

Even if there's some misunderstanding, couldn't they sort it out in private? She just had to make everyone uncomfortable.

I stood where I was, watching them shelter Bertha so carefully.

The stream was finally cut, the reason given as equipment failure.

Ned dragged me into the bedroom.

He looked at me, his face dark.

Satisfied now?

I set the microphone down on the table.

No.

I'd angered him, and his voice went cold.:

Kathleen, what exactly are you trying to do? I don't get it anymore. Was it so hard to just play along for one stream?

I lifted my eyes to him.

Yes. It was.

Ned was quiet for a moment, then took a jewelry box from his pocket and set it down in front of me.

Your tenth-anniversary gift. I'm making it up to you.

Is this enough? Can you stop making trouble now?

I lowered my eyes and flipped the lid open.

Inside lay a platinum bracelet.

The little diamonds glittered, but the clasp was thin as a blade, and it would press right against my right wrist.

Where there was a burn scar.

I put it back.

He frowned at my wrist, as if he'd finally remembered something.

Out in the living room, Bertha still sat on the couch, shedding tears.

The assistant director urged him in a low voice.:

Mr. Weiss, everything's ready out here.

Ned didn't look at me again. He turned to go comfort her.

Don't cry. It'll be over soon.

I closed the lid of the box and followed Ned out.

"Ned."

The living room went quiet.

Every pair of eyes settled on the two of us.

"Let's get divorced."

His face darkened in an instant.

"What did you say?"

I didn't answer.

I turned, walked to the entryway, changed my shoes, and opened the door.

Behind me came a crew member's flustered voice:

"Mr. Weiss, aren't you going after her?"

Just before the door shut, I heard his voice turn cold.

"Leave her be."

The elevator doors slid closed.

I looked down at my bare right wrist, and suddenly remembered how, years ago, he had once pressed a very light kiss there.