After we got married it took a long time for Char to get used to the idea that whatever was in the checking account was hers to spend. When she finally did, she went big. The first expensive thing she bought without my input was a gift for me, a beautiful slick black baby grand piano. I'd wanted one for over twenty years but could never justify the expense; I had a perfectly good upright piano and when in tune it carried a crystal clear sound, so there was no reason to replace it other than simply wanting to.

She was nervious as hell about it; it didn't matter how many times I'd said to spend whatever the hell you want, as long as the bills get paid I don't care. I waited for it to click with her and assumed that one day I'd come home and she would have finally hit the mall with Becks and melted a credit card. I never expected that I'd come home one day and find her pacing the porch with Alex on her hip and worry painted on her face, and never expected to hear don't get mad and then have her open the door to show me what she hoped I wouldn't be upset over.

That piano was more than an impulse buy, more than a way to challenge me over my insistence that I didn't care if she chewed into the checking account; she simply wanted to give me something she knew I had always wanted, something I would have never gotten myself. Every time I sat down and played it, I could feel exactly what she wanted for me. When Alex and then Rachel learned to play (on the old upright) I looked forward to the day when they would sit at that piano and find the music hidden between the notes.

Today I watched four movers lift it to set it on rollers, and today I watched them drop it down the porch steps. There's no fixing it, and to say I'm pissed would be an understatement.