The first time I forget the anniversary of Giovanni’s Restaurant, it happens by accident.
No dread.
No internal countdown.
No bracing.
It’s just a Tuesday in late October.
I’m halfway through a faculty meeting when my phone buzzes.
Lily.
Lily:
Are you okay today?
I blink.
Me:
Yeah? Why?
Three dots.
Then:
Lily:
It’s the day.
The day.
It takes me a second.
Then it lands.
Three years ago today.
The contract.
The dinner.
The sale.
The moment everything broke open.
I sit back in my chair, pulse steady.
Not racing.
Not tightening.
Just steady.
Me:
I’m okay.
She calls immediately.
“You forgot,” she says.
“Yes.”
“That’s huge.”
“I think so.”
“You used to spiral for a week around this date.”
“I know.”
“You’re really okay?”
I pause.
“I’m not numb. I’m not suppre
