Welcome to The Spot
Writers. This month’s prompt is to write a story
using the following five words: tables, swimming pool, pavement, trees,
mailboxes.
This week’s story comes from Cathy MacKenzie.
Cathy’s novel, WOLVES DON’T KNOCK, a psychological drama, with elements of
suspense, mystery, romance, and family relationships, is available from her
locally or on Amazon.
***
New Year’s Resolution
by Cathy
MacKenzie
The whoosh of the wind almost knocked Callie to
the ground. She was aware the winter wind was in a rage but hadn’t expected it
to be this bad. She managed to stand and struggled back to the motel room.
Thankfully, the porch extended the length of the motel units, with the two ends
enclosed, so she could easily open the door and get in out of the cold.
She looked out the window. The mailbox across
the road had blown off its pole and lay on the pavement, waiting for disaster
from an oncoming vehicle. She pictured hers and Dan’s house and hoped the
flimsy plexiglass around the swimming pool remained intact. Nearby trees would
wreak disaster, too, should one of them topple. Would Dan bother checking, or would
he be luxuriating in the man cave, cut off from the world’s realities?
She should have stayed home rather than running
off like a spoiled brat, especially on New Year’s Day. But would it be too much
for her husband to pay attention to her once in a while? Seemed all Dan wanted
to do was watch television. He was a movie freak but would watch movies over
and over, not realizing he’d already seen them. Two minutes into a movie and
Callie recognized a repeat.
Did he even know she wasn’t at home? Several times
over the past six months, she’d left the house in the afternoon and gone to the
mall. He’d still be sitting in front of the boob tube when she returned, none
the wiser. She snickered. Boob tube? How apropos.
This time, though, she’d been gone three days.
She had every intention of returning home. In fact, she’d already decided to
return the following day. Four nights would be enough to jolt her husband back
to reality. He’d have missed her so terribly that he would never again ignore
her—but if he wanted her home, why hadn’t he telephoned or texted? She had
checked her phone every hour. Nothing. Playing hard to get, no doubt. They’d
played silly games in the past.
She yanked the dingy drapes across the window,
plopped to the queen-sized bed, and flicked on the television.
The next day, she checked out, cringing at the
bill for a second until realizing the money would be well spent if some sense
had been knocked into her husband.
She sped home, anticipation coursing through her
loins. She had missed him terribly. The feeling would be mutual; she was
certain of it.
She pulled into the snow-covered driveway and
parked behind his truck. She unlocked the side door, jumping at the shrill
beeping. Though they’d cancelled the alarm system, the deafening noise would be
enough to scare away even a fearless robber.
She dropped her purse on the counter and flung
her coat at the kitchen stool.
She glanced around the kitchen, noting the clean
table and empty sink. If he’d cooked, which he must have if he’d wanted to eat,
he had cleaned his mess. Score one!
She ambled down the hall. Quiet. Too quiet.
Where was he?
Despite the sun shining through the living room
windows, the ceiling light glowed at the top of the stairs going to the
basement.
She stopped. That noise. Was someone down there
with him?
She shuddered. What if he was angry? What if he
never talked to her again? What if he wanted a divorce?
Had she gone too far?
The voices ceased and music blasted, the
tell-tale sound of the television. She relaxed. Dan liked the volume loud. But
at ten in the morning? She smiled. Definitely bored. A good sign.
Soundlessly, careful to hold onto the railing,
she descended the carpeted staircase.
He was sitting on the couch when she reached the
bottom. Thank God he was alone. If he’d had another woman, she didn’t know what
she would do. Serve her right, though, for trying to teach him a lesson. She
regretted her actions, but she’d make it up to him. A New Year’s resolution
formed in her head.
“Hi, honey. I’m sorry. Please forgive me.”
As usual when he was pissed off, he ignored her
and continued to stare at the screen.
She crept toward him. “I’m sorry. I just felt
like I needed to teach you a lesson. I wanted you to miss me. I wanted to feel
needed.”
She sat beside him and grasped his arm. “I was
wrong, though. I shouldn’t have gone this far.”
She leaned over to kiss him. Her lips grazed his
cheek.
“Honey? Dan?”
His blood pressure machine perched precariously
on the armrest. After suffering a heart attack a few years previously, he
religiously—and fanatically—checked his pressure.
She touched his face, and his head plopped
toward his shoulder. The blood pressure machine fell to the floor.
***
The Spot Writers—Our Members:
Val Muller: http://www.valmuller.com/blog/
Catherine A. MacKenzie: https://writingwicket.wordpress.com/wicker-chitter/
Phil Yeats: https://alankemisterauthor.wordpress.com
Chiara De Giorgi: https://chiaradegiorgi.blogspot.com/
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