That was the first night.

A month later we were engaged.

For the most part, people were supportive. We were both adults, and since neither of us had living family, we didn’t have to explain anything to anyone. In the end, it was just the two of us.

We were married by a judge on a Wednesday afternoon.

It was beautiful.

It still is.

I walk to the campus then turn around and head back. No one else is on the streets, and by the time I get home things don’t seem so bad. When I open the door and go inside, I feel better than I have in days. Diane is sitting on the couch with a book open on her lap.

She looks up at me and smiles. “Feel better?”

I walk over and kiss her.

“What’s that for?” she asks.

“For being here.”

Diane rolls her eyes, then turns back to her book and says, “Think about what you want to do for dinner.”

I go into the kitchen and pour myself a glass of water. I finish it, then take a beer from the refrigerator and drink half of it.

For a while, I stand at the sink and stare out the window at a pair of squirrels chasing each other through the backyard. I stay there until the beer is gone, then I drop the bottle in the trash and open two more, one for me and one for Diane.

On my way back to the living room, I pass the package on the counter. The scissors are still on top, right where I left them. I set the bottles down and go to work.

Whoever taped the box did a thorough job, and cutting into it one-handed turns out to be a challenge. After struggling for a few minutes, I manage to cut through one corner. I peel away tape in long strips until I’m able to open the top and look inside.

The box is filled with bubble wrap, and as I pull it away, I begin to see the outline of a clear glass jar inside. It’s heavy, and there’s a piece of stationery taped to the lid, blank except for the words “ From the desk of Thomas Wentworth ” printed along the top.