Killing two birds with one stone

It was my birthday yesterday.  

     Tony and I were married on my birthday 18 years ago.

     We were in Cairns when we decided to marry and where else to buy wedding rings than Rusty’s Markets.  This was before the big reno, when it was dark and the ceiling was the aluminium of the roof and the floor was cement and dirt.  The rings were $22 each and the vendor, barefoot and wearing an open vest and billowing cheesecloth pants which complemented his long grey ponytail, was so chuffed we were buying wedding rings, he gave us both for $40.  A great deal for a couple who were broke.  Not only were we broke, but we had only two assets, a one-tonne Mazda truck and that had ‘broke’ and our seven metre, three-eighths, steel fishing vessel was as good as ‘broke’,

     Anyway, we decided to get married straight away and made the announcement to Mum and Dad at the farm (back'o'Cairns) as we showed off our supposedly sterling silver wedding bands that looked more like stainless steel parts from the tractor’s engine.

     “You’re mother and I are going to Darwin for a week,” said Dad.  “We’re back Thursday. Can you hold off?”

     “Sure,” I said and turned to my beloved, “we can tie the knot on Friday, honey, my birthday so you only need to remember one day for two special days.”

     So we wed at the Atherton Courthouse on my birthday and the roses bloomed for the special occasion (they are behind me and Tony).

     I didn't hear Tony say his vows because he started laughing and laughing. And so did all the guests … all seven of them which included two children.

     Nor did I hear him mutter something about shirking any responsibility to remember significant dates.

     BECAUSE YESTERDAY HE FORGOT MY BIRTHDAY AND OUR 18^TH WEDDING ANNIVERSARY!

     On the other 17 July 21sts, he has always remembered by dinner time.      

     He rang today to talk about his next fishing charter.

     “Happy anniversary, honey,” I said.

     Silence.  I hoped it was a chilling silence for him, the sort of silence one feels when they realise they have made a fatal error.

     “Oh, happy birthday,” he said, eventually and too cheerfully. "I was out fishing yesterday and the reception wasn't great.  And did I tell you I'm taking Chris and his wife fishing next Sunday?"