Crossing Seasons – Strike One

Jacob and Deborah

Jacob and Deborah

“I only asked for a new frame,” Deborah lamented when she entered the writing room. “What on earth did you-?”

Jacob looked over his shoulder, screwdriver clenched between his teeth, sleeves soaking wet. “The frame you picked for the painting was all wrong, and worn, and…well, it fell apart. A few pieces earned me two-points, by basketball standards, not that the goldfish liked it.”

Deborah looked from the fish tank to his arms and then pointed to the burnt out light. “Uh huh.”

“Went to move the tank, but that bench is crappy. Did you know the paint’s faded on the wall where-?”

“Uh huh,” she repeated, staring down at the remains of her writing bench.

“Went to plug in the drill, to fix the other problem I found, with the stand the fish sit on and blew a fuse.”

“Don’t tell me you’re planning on painting, dear. That’s why I hang up pictures, so you don’t have to paint, not after last time.”

Jacob made a face. “Do you want a frame for this or not?”

“Nah, you’re fired, old man. First strike. Get out.” She pushed her husband out of her sanctuary turned puzzle room, wondering how a simple request could go so wrong.

 

(The above was inspired by a Daily Post Prompt)

Lovely Shadows and Forgot-Me-Nots

Shells and Forget-me-nots by Tommia Wright

Shells and Forget-me-nots by Tommia Wright

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“Do you remember when we got married,” Deborah asked as she burrowed under the quilt.

“I believe they call that an anniversary, dear,” Jacob said without looking away from the book he held at arm’s length, refusing to put on his glasses.

She grabbed the book of sonnets with one hand, cupped his chin to face her with the other. “You believe you’re going to make it to your next birthday, don’t you, old man? I’m trying to be serious here.”

“Funny, I thought you always were.” He kissed her forehead before she could protest. “Yes, dear, I remember. My brother, the witness, Mrs. Helen our guardian. And our parents refusing to talk to us for more than a month.”

Deborah glanced at the dog-earred page, a pet peeve of hers, yet kept her silence. “I don’t think I ever felt so scared in my life, aside from the day I thought I killed you, I mean.”

“Knocked me off my feet before then,” he whispered as the winter winds howled on the other side of the walls. “What brought you back to-?”

“I’m afraid of forgetting. Sure, I give you grief for making me look for your glasses or wondering where I wrote check number 214, but… Joel, there are days I can’t remember what happened the day before.”

He hugged her tighter. “Considering we’re keeping track of three kids, two parents and a stubborn aunt and uncle, it’s any wonder we remember who the other one is anymore. Don’t worry, though, love. If you go senile, I’ll walk along that path with you. Then we can both watch our memories vanish in the sands as the waves wash over time and again.”

Deborah smiled, relieved and tired. She didn’t have the energy she used to and couldn’t help but wonder how she expected  them to keep up with the grandkids, too. “Want your book back?”

Jacob shook his head, reciting the sonnet instead, his soft voice lulling her into a sweet sleep on the sofa, in his arms.