Jon was excited, sitting on the seat next to him was his copy of Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows. Jon had read every Potter book, he had even memorized the last line of The Half Blood Prince, the sixth book.
His hand closed automatically around the fake Horcrux, but in spite of everything, in spite of the dark and twisting path he saw stretching ahead for himself, in spite of the final meeting with Voldemort he knew must come, whether in a month, in a year, or in ten, he felt his heart lift at the thought that there was still one last golden day of peace left to enjoy with Ron and Hermione.
He took his book, went inside, and sat down in his favorite chair. He was ready to begin reading when Mary, his wife said, “Dinner’s on the table.” He’d waited two years for this moment, and a few minutes more or less was fine with him.
Dinner was a pizza his wife had picked up on her way home from work. Mushrooms, pineapple, Canadian bacon, and double the cheese were waiting for him when he sat down. He was hungry, and was on his second piece when his wife finished, walked over and picked up his book and started reading.
“Hey,” he said, “don’t get interested in that I’m reading it first.” Frankly, he was a little surprised she’d picked it up. She’d watched the movies and had even read the first book, but she was not what you’d call a reader.
“Don’t worry,” she said, “this won’t take long and she flipped to the last chapter and started reading.”
Jon choked on his pizza, “what the hell,” he sputtered. She didn’t answer and continued to read. “You’re reading the ending,” he said. She ignored him.
A minute later she said “huh” and set the book down. “Don’t worry,” she said, “I won’t tell you how it ends.”
“You’ve spoiled it,” he said. “You won’t enjoy it now when you read it,” he said.
“I’m not going to read it,” she said, “I just wanted to know how it ended.”
Sometimes Jon wondered how it had gone so wrong, when they were dating she said she liked to read, it was only later that he learned she meant magazines, and not the New Yorker, or the Atlantic, well you know. “Fiction is boring,” she’d said. It was a major disappointment that he couldn’t share such an important part of his life.
I’ll see you later she said, I’m going to the gym to exercise and then Susie and I are stopping by the mall I’ll be home about 10:00 will you please TiVo CSI Miami she said, I’d like to watch it when I get home. Jon promised he would, but the more he thought about it the angrier he became. The last fucking page, how could she read just the last page of a book, any book. Didn’t she know the journey is the reward?
He sat in his chair and began to read. If the wind hadn’t picked up and he’d not heard the wind chimes he probably would have failed to notice that it was time for her program.
She arrived home just after ten, and said, “I hope you remembered to record my program.” He said he had. She grabbed an iced tea, turned on the TV, and settled into her favorite chair. She found the program in the list of recorded programs, and it started to play. “What the hell, did you watch this,” she said. “It’s near the end.” She hit rewind, but it went back only a few seconds, it was then she noticed the program length was only two minutes. “You screwed this up,” she said. “I can’t even count on you to record a program for me, and I really wanted to watch it,” she said.
“It’s there,” he said. “Right, the last two minutes,” she said. “That should suit you just fine,” he said. “I figured you’d just want to know how it ended and if you watch it you will. You know what they say, “all’s well that ends well.”