Welcome! This week's word prompt is "boredom." I'm continuing with Maggie's Story. Thanks for coming. Click on the link below to return to the great Tuesday Tales writers.
Maggie stared out the window facing Park Avenue. It was Wednesday night before Thanksgiving and the traffic was bumper to bumper. A slight drizzle fell, coating the window. The temperature was forty and a winterish wind slipped through the cracks in the old windows, making her shiver. She put the kettle on for another cup of tea.
Her thoughts turned to her husband, John, who was navigating his way through the dense clutch of cars, bringing Mr. Roberts home from a meeting downtown. She checked her watch. Won’t be home for another half hour, most likely.
She perused her list one more time. Everything for tomorrow’s celebration that could be prepared ahead was ready. Anne had ordered Chinese food for tonight’s dinner to give Maggie a break.
The whistling of the kettle drew the cook’s attention. She perched on a stool and sipped. It’s five years now. Five years married. No baby. She sighed and finished her tea.
John entered the kitchen and stopped to kiss his wife.
“Beastly out there. This damned American holiday. Messes up every avenue and street,” he muttered.
While she loved John even more than when they had first married, boredom with her life had set in. The only bright spot came running into the kitchen.
“I’m hungry, Maggie,” said little Penn.
The six year old trained his beautiful, expectant blue eyes on her and she melted. Reaching into the fridge, she plucked out a stick of string cheese.
“Now you’ve got to promise to eat your supper, my boy,” she said, waving the cheese wand in front of him.
He nodded and she let him grab the stick. He shot a brilliant grin at her. “Thank you,” the little boy said.
She ruffled his hair before he raced out as fast as he’d come.
“Little bloke knows just how to get what he wants from you,” John observed, sipping the cup of Earl Grey Maggie had made for him.
“Damn right. He’s not stupid, that one. Smart as a whip. Gonna do big things one day, like his father.” She smiled with pride.
“He’s not yours, you know.”
“Yes, he is. He’s ours as much as he’s theirs.”
John put his arm around his wife. “I hope you know that isn’t true.”
“Maybe not legally, but in here,” she said, pounding in her chest, “in here, he is.”
But Maggie pushed away from him. “Stop it!”
“Some day we’ll have our own.”
Maggie put her hand over his mouth. “Stop sayin’ that. Ain’t gonna happen. There ain’t gonna be a some day. We’ve been tryin’ for three years, John. Ain’t happened yet and ain’t gonna.”
She slipped into his embrace. They stood in silence, clinging to each other.
“Still, we’ve much to be thankful for, Maggie.”
“That we do.”
“I hope you don’t mind if I keep on trying?”
“You’d better! As long as you’re doin’ it for the fun of tryin’ and stop askin’ me if it took.”
“Agreed, lassie,” he whispered.