No Hamlet, no cry
Rob and I left the apartment at the same time today, which is a rare occurrence. I kissed him goodbye, got on the train and he headed off to ride his motorcycle.
When I got off the train, my phone rang. Rob.
He rarely calls me, so I had a sinking sensation. “Hi. What’s wrong?”
“Someone hit my motorcycle.”
I had a moment of no breath.
“It was tipped over when I got to it. [Some technical term] is broken and the [other term] is bent.”
And just like that, I could breathe again. He hadn’t been on the bike. I don’t worry when he’s outside town, but in the city is another matter. I made some sound that meant, “Holy crap, that’s awful but I’m glad you were nowhere near it when it happened.”
Rob continued, “So, I’ll have to deal with insurance today and probably won’t be able to stand in line for tickets to Hamlet. I just wanted to let you know. I’m sorry. If I finish up, I’ll try but–”
“Don’t worry about it. No Shakespeare tonight.”
Do you see the kind of man I married? His very expensive toy is broken and his first thought is to apologize to me that we can’t go see a play.
Meanwhile, I’m sure he’s furious about someone hitting and leaving his bike. Our insurance company is pretty good, but this is a hassle that the poor boy does not need.