Patient [s.m]

5.

When Shawn said memory lane, he truly meant memory lane.

The neon red sign lights against my face as I look into the small pizzeria where we had our very first date many, many years ago. Filled with just three other guests inside eating, the place looked the same as it did. The booth we sat in was vacant, but I could see the ghosts of 19 year old Jasmine and 20 year old Shawn.

"I'm surprised it's still here." I say. "I thought it would have been closed down by now."

"Well it almost was." Shawn says. "It was right during those four years. I bought the place, let everyone keep their jobs and even gave them raises. But as long as our bloodline is around, this place is never gonna die."

"You bought it?" I ask.

"For you." He replies.

"Shawn, what did I ever do to deserve a husband as magnificent as you?"

"You manifested me." He replies. "Now lets get a slice."

We walk inside the little restaurant and the scent of garlic bread and olive oil tickled underneath my nose like old times. The bell rings as the door closes and Shawn and I take out place as our old booth.

"If you had told me years ago that I'd be sitting across my husband in this booth, I might have believed you." I say.

Shawn is without a doubt beautiful. His curls still swooped a little over his forehead and he reached into the pocket of his hooded Nike sweater, a piece of his workout collection, and pulled out a rubber headband. "No, don't." I protest. "I like the curls."

"And I like yours." Shawn tells me. He places the headband back in his pocket and looks at me. "God - you are so beautiful."

"I say the same about you." I reply. "Why have we never brought the kids here?"

"Cause this is our spot." Shawn shrugs.

"That seems kind of selfish of us."

"A brave fucking woman said you have to be selfish sometimes." He says, quoting me from many years back.

"I can't believe you gave up boxing." I say. "I didn't think you'd do it. Here we are, same spot, and all I could do was look at your hands and think, These are dangerous?"

"You've seen the damage they've done." Shawn says. He places his hands flat on the table and I trace his swallow tattoo with my finger.

"For a boxer, you've always kept your hands extremely soft."

"Duh. I'm not gonna touch my wife with elephant hands." Shawn says.

The manager of the restaurant brings us over two slices of pineapple pizza and a fruit punch for me and a water for Shawn.

I can't help but think about how wild and crazy life is. The way it just works in mysterious ways but somehow it works. The same man who broke my heart and left me distraught for nearly four years is the same man who mended his wrongdoings and made them better than they were. This is the same man who went to therapy to better himself and strip away his toxic traits to not rain on the garden that I was. Although I know I was no angel, he changed his ways to be a better him for a better me.

"What're you thinking about?" Shawn asks me.

"Us." I reply. "I'm thinking about us."

"Good. Keep thinking about us." He says.

"I always will."

We eat and reminisce about many, many things. Including when I painted on his back and told him I Love You.