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.
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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.”
“Some
day…”
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.
