wheel of fiction - Paper
Title: Paper
Challenge: #57 Wheel of Fiction, Into The Ocean - Blue October
Media: Original fiction
Rating: PG-13
Note: Bridget and Arttu’s first wedding anniversary doesn’t go the way Arttu would have wanted. Paper is the traditional gift for the first wedding anniversary.
Mayday had always been my favorite holiday. I married Bridget on Mayday so she would love it as much as I do. For our first anniversary we went to visit my mother. Our vacation wasn’t going as well as it could of. She had gotten sick on the flight over and she hadn’t really bounced back.
The morning before our anniversary she had leaped out of bed and scrambled to the bathroom. I had followed her slowly and held her while she was sick. Then I carried her back to bed and tucked her in next to me. I curled around her and held her close for hours, rubbing her back and watching her sleep. And worrying over her.
That day I had lunch with my ex girlfriend and my ex best friend and listened to them brag about the kids they had about three or four seconds after I left town. Bridget was supposed to be with me but I had left her curled up in my bed. I wouldn’t have gone to the lunch but Bridget thought if I canceled I would look like I was hiding from the happy couple.
She was probably right but that didn’t make me any less angry about it.
I had banked the fire of my anger towards the exes but it still smoldered in me. Sitting across from them and eating turned my stomach. I wanted a drink but it was noon and Bridget would be disappointed if I couldn’t get through this without getting drunk. I hated to disappoint my wife.
That took punching one or the other of them off the table as well.
I sat and ate and looked at the pictures of the exes little brats and got told over and over again how she had to leave me because I didn’t want children. I pointed out that she didn’t have to run off, we could have talked like adults. They both looked at me as if I had grown a second head.
In the angry silence my cell phone rang. I excused myself and stepped away from the table.
“I don’t want to cut your lunch short, but can you come home?” Bridget said, “We need to talk.”
I don’t care who you are and where you grew up or what language you speak, every man’s heart goes cold at the words ‘we need to talk’.
“Your wish is my command, My Lady,” I said in a joking tone, trying to hide the fear I felt. When she hung up I went back to our table.
“Your wife keeps you on a short leash,” he said.
“She is ill,” I said with a smile and a shrug, “You know how it is.”
“You get over it,” he told me looking sideways at his wife.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said taking out my wallet and dropping enough Euros on the table to pay for our meal four times. I was being cruel flaunting my wealth, “Call you, see you,” I said in a tone that let them know I had no intention of doing either.
“Arttu,” she called after me, “If she isn’t feeling well you should take her flowers - Oh I forgot, you can’t because of your allergies.”
“I take her flowers all the time,” I replied, “you just weren’t worth the sniffles.”
I stopped on the way back and bought her flowers. I was being honest to my ex, Bridget was worth the sniffles. Plus her favorites were roses and iris, basically hypoallergenic. At least to me. And even if she loved flowers that made me sneeze, it wasn’t like I was playing and needed to be able to breathe perfectly this very second. And it wasn’t like I was traveling without antihistamines and I liked bringing her flowers, it felt right.
I unwrapped the roses in the kitchen and found a vase for them, my mom watching me the whole time with an odd expression on her face. When I was done she reached up and touched my face, “You are nothing like your father.”
It would have been an odd thing for her to say to me if I hadn’t had a letter from the man sitting on my desk at home. My mother knew things like that. I could never hide anything from her. My mother the Witch used her magic to watch over me.
“I know,” I said. I didn’t know, of course, I had never met him and I hadn’t opened the letter on my desk. It would be my first contact with him ever.
“Your wife is waiting for you upstairs,” she told me and kissed my cheek.
I bounded up the stairs with my flowers and stopped at the door. Bridget was sitting in my window looking out to ocean the way I did when I was young. She turned to look at me. Her eyes bright blue and excited, her sharp cheekbones and chin under her milky skin topped by spiky black hair made her look like a wild fairy that I had caught and trapped in my room.
She was the most beautiful woman in the world. I knew that in my heart.
“You brought me flowers,” she said coming to me and standing on his tip toes to kiss me. She looked better than she had when I left.
“What was I to do? My wife is ill and our anniversary is tomorrow,” I said.
“I feel better,” she said then she looked away nervously, “we have to talk.”
“You said.”
She didn’t say anything, she just handed me a sheet of paper. “I can’t read it, of course. Your mother took me to the doctor today.”
I read the paper. I read it again. I looked at Bridget and had the sudden urge to run as far as I could. Maybe even run into the ocean and drown myself.
My wife was pregnant. And despite my mom saying I wasn’t anything like my father my first thought was to run.
“How did that happen?”
“Sometimes it happens,” she said gently.
“We talked about this.”
“We did,” she said touching my face, “but for what it is worth I think that you will be an awesome dad.”
“I don’t think I will be,” I straightened as her hand moved from my face to my chest.
“I have faith in you. I have faith enough in you for both of us.”
I felt the desire to run into the ocean ease a little. She believed in me.
“Happy anniversary,” I said to her.
“Happy Mayday,” she said back to me.
Challenge: #57 Wheel of Fiction, Into The Ocean - Blue October
Media: Original fiction
Rating: PG-13
Note: Bridget and Arttu’s first wedding anniversary doesn’t go the way Arttu would have wanted. Paper is the traditional gift for the first wedding anniversary.
Mayday had always been my favorite holiday. I married Bridget on Mayday so she would love it as much as I do. For our first anniversary we went to visit my mother. Our vacation wasn’t going as well as it could of. She had gotten sick on the flight over and she hadn’t really bounced back.
The morning before our anniversary she had leaped out of bed and scrambled to the bathroom. I had followed her slowly and held her while she was sick. Then I carried her back to bed and tucked her in next to me. I curled around her and held her close for hours, rubbing her back and watching her sleep. And worrying over her.
That day I had lunch with my ex girlfriend and my ex best friend and listened to them brag about the kids they had about three or four seconds after I left town. Bridget was supposed to be with me but I had left her curled up in my bed. I wouldn’t have gone to the lunch but Bridget thought if I canceled I would look like I was hiding from the happy couple.
She was probably right but that didn’t make me any less angry about it.
I had banked the fire of my anger towards the exes but it still smoldered in me. Sitting across from them and eating turned my stomach. I wanted a drink but it was noon and Bridget would be disappointed if I couldn’t get through this without getting drunk. I hated to disappoint my wife.
That took punching one or the other of them off the table as well.
I sat and ate and looked at the pictures of the exes little brats and got told over and over again how she had to leave me because I didn’t want children. I pointed out that she didn’t have to run off, we could have talked like adults. They both looked at me as if I had grown a second head.
In the angry silence my cell phone rang. I excused myself and stepped away from the table.
“I don’t want to cut your lunch short, but can you come home?” Bridget said, “We need to talk.”
I don’t care who you are and where you grew up or what language you speak, every man’s heart goes cold at the words ‘we need to talk’.
“Your wish is my command, My Lady,” I said in a joking tone, trying to hide the fear I felt. When she hung up I went back to our table.
“Your wife keeps you on a short leash,” he said.
“She is ill,” I said with a smile and a shrug, “You know how it is.”
“You get over it,” he told me looking sideways at his wife.
“No, I don’t think so,” I said taking out my wallet and dropping enough Euros on the table to pay for our meal four times. I was being cruel flaunting my wealth, “Call you, see you,” I said in a tone that let them know I had no intention of doing either.
“Arttu,” she called after me, “If she isn’t feeling well you should take her flowers - Oh I forgot, you can’t because of your allergies.”
“I take her flowers all the time,” I replied, “you just weren’t worth the sniffles.”
I stopped on the way back and bought her flowers. I was being honest to my ex, Bridget was worth the sniffles. Plus her favorites were roses and iris, basically hypoallergenic. At least to me. And even if she loved flowers that made me sneeze, it wasn’t like I was playing and needed to be able to breathe perfectly this very second. And it wasn’t like I was traveling without antihistamines and I liked bringing her flowers, it felt right.
I unwrapped the roses in the kitchen and found a vase for them, my mom watching me the whole time with an odd expression on her face. When I was done she reached up and touched my face, “You are nothing like your father.”
It would have been an odd thing for her to say to me if I hadn’t had a letter from the man sitting on my desk at home. My mother knew things like that. I could never hide anything from her. My mother the Witch used her magic to watch over me.
“I know,” I said. I didn’t know, of course, I had never met him and I hadn’t opened the letter on my desk. It would be my first contact with him ever.
“Your wife is waiting for you upstairs,” she told me and kissed my cheek.
I bounded up the stairs with my flowers and stopped at the door. Bridget was sitting in my window looking out to ocean the way I did when I was young. She turned to look at me. Her eyes bright blue and excited, her sharp cheekbones and chin under her milky skin topped by spiky black hair made her look like a wild fairy that I had caught and trapped in my room.
She was the most beautiful woman in the world. I knew that in my heart.
“You brought me flowers,” she said coming to me and standing on his tip toes to kiss me. She looked better than she had when I left.
“What was I to do? My wife is ill and our anniversary is tomorrow,” I said.
“I feel better,” she said then she looked away nervously, “we have to talk.”
“You said.”
She didn’t say anything, she just handed me a sheet of paper. “I can’t read it, of course. Your mother took me to the doctor today.”
I read the paper. I read it again. I looked at Bridget and had the sudden urge to run as far as I could. Maybe even run into the ocean and drown myself.
My wife was pregnant. And despite my mom saying I wasn’t anything like my father my first thought was to run.
“How did that happen?”
“Sometimes it happens,” she said gently.
“We talked about this.”
“We did,” she said touching my face, “but for what it is worth I think that you will be an awesome dad.”
“I don’t think I will be,” I straightened as her hand moved from my face to my chest.
“I have faith in you. I have faith enough in you for both of us.”
I felt the desire to run into the ocean ease a little. She believed in me.
“Happy anniversary,” I said to her.
“Happy Mayday,” she said back to me.