The Persian Rug
“Eric, that was a very good dinner,” said Linda placing her knife and fork neatly on her plate.
“Yes, I enjoyed it too,” replied Eric summoning their waitress.
“Have you bought the rug you promised me?”
“I did say you could have one on your birthday,” he told her. “Would you like more wine?”
Eric ordered another bottle of their favorite wine and looked up sharply as the waitress touched him lightly on the shoulder.
“Well it’s my birthday tomorrow,” said Linda and reached across the table and took hold of Eric’s hand showing the wedding band to the waitress who was fiddling with their plates. “You do remember, don’t you?”
“But your birthday is next Saturday, the twenty-eight,” said Eric loosening her hold on his hand.
“You forgot. You forgot!” Linda said and drank the last mouth-full in a single gulp.
“No, I just got the date wrong,” he said, “we can go through to the House of Persians in the morning.”
“You should have organized it sooner because they close on weekends,” she said and then to the waitress, “Go fetch the wine.”
“I’ll get it first thing on Monday,” he said looking over his shoulder. “Where is she with the wine.”
The waitress returned with the wine and with her a second waitress and two waiters who carried a large colorfully wrapped roll-shaped parcel. The four sang happy birthday in beautiful harmony and then handed the Persian Rug to Eric.
“Eric, you are such a boy,” exclaimed Linda embarrassed at the turn of events and her abruptness.
“Well it sure beats hankies, socks, and panties,” grinned Eric.