Free cannoli and cheesecake

We were eating at Stephanie's favorite Italian restaurant — window table, best seat in the house. Steph was seated facing outside, so other than my face, her view must've been picture-perfect.

My view was terrific, too — the sunshine was hitting Steph's face, and she was beautiful. I loved looking in her eyes and loved seeing her smile, loved seeing her love. 

The pasta was dreamy, which was appropriate, this being a dream and all. We reminisced about places we'd been, and how lucky we'd been to find the perfect apartment here in Madison, and of course, how lucky we'd been to have found each other. 

We could always talk about happy memories together, because we had so many, so it must've been a long conversation, and a long dream. We had a long marriage, too, just not long enough. 

The waiter came to ask if our meals were satisfactory, and he was Bill Murray. Yeah, the movie star, who's also famous for his chipper and quirky off-screen interactions with strangers. He was wearing the restaurant's silly red silk uniform, and Steph said, "Are you Bill Murray?" but it was obvious that he was, and he said, "Do you need to see ID?" 

Of course, he was witty and sarcastic, and instantly we were all old friends. Bill sat down at our table and suddenly he had a plate of pasta, and all three of us were chatting comfortably. 

When we'd almost finished the last few bites of our pasta, he stood up and resumed his role as the waiter, asked if we'd like dessert. He smiled and added, "I'm buying."

Steph ordered cannoli and I had cheesecake, and we never saw Bill again. The waiter became a waitress who simply dropped off our desserts and the tab, then said thanks and walked away.

Bill had said he'd pay, but he stiffed us. Dinner and dessert was on my debit card.

Stephanie had been sparkly all through dinner. That was her default mode, but in the dream she seemed especially sparkly even for Steph. She was in her wheelchair so this was latter-Steph, but she was healthy, happy, and with me — everything I ever wanted. 

We paid and tipped and walked home, and it was a long walk and it was cold, but we were happy and talking and laughing and we said, "I love you" to each other, like we always did. 

She asked me to tell her parents that she loves them, too, and I guess that's when I knew it was a dream, because if this was real she'd call them herself. She mentioned that she was cold, and she shivered, and I was about to offer my jacket when instead I woke up.

The dream is over, again, and I'm without her, here in the woke-up world. Alone.

Before Steph saved my life, I had very few friends, and spent almost all my time alone. That's what life looks like now, again, and it sucks. But I can make it alone, so long as I remember her every day — and boy, do I. 

Now I should call the in-laws and relay Steph's message that she loved them, but I'm not good at talking to anyone on the phone. Fom talking to me on the phone, they know that, so I sent them an email instead:

"Had dinner with Steph in a dream, and she asked me to tell you that she loves you."

11/16/2020   
Republished 4/24/2024   

itsdougholland.com
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