Memories of Maria

"Memories of Maria" (Mmf, wimp husband) by c.w. cobblestone Henry felt the soft menthol breeze tickle lightly against his the back of his neck, an angel whispering in his ear. He closed his eyes and almost smiled. He drank in the stirring light of the day and inhaled the sweet, delicate smell of summer, and everything seemed okay. Almost. A man and a woman, obviously in love, drifted past the bench where Henry sat tearing pieces of bread. The Pepsi-Generation couple manuevered their way through the maze of pigeons which waddled around excitedly, cooing and bobbing their heads toward the bread crumbs in Henry's fingers. Henry squinted through the sunlight and watched the young lovers wander aimlessly through the park. He noticed how they swung their hands back and forth in unison as they walked, caught up in the moment. It was depressing. Henry quietly went back to feeding the birds. He sprinkled crumbs all around and the pigeons fought each other for every morsel. A small sparrow in the back of the crowd tried to lace its way through the bigger birds, but every time Henry threw a crumb the pigeons would flap their wings menacingly and scare the sparrow away. Feeling sorry for the poor little fellow, Henry took aim and tossed a piece of bread right in front of the runt bird. Quick as a blink, the sparrow snatched the morsel and darted away. Henry the Benevolent. He wiped his hands on his pants and looked at his watch. Not quite 5 o'clock. Henry didn't want to go home just yet. He was savoring every gust of wind. His rubbed his eyes wearily and lost himself in the swirl of colors that played like a kaleidoscope on his tired eyelids. Another long, lonely day. He'd spent most of the morning at the library, until the smell of books began to wear on him. Then he came to the park. It was the same drill every day, and even though Henry tired of the monotony, he also knew he needed it. Routine was the only thing that made sense anymore. Henry peered at the young couple, who were now leaning against the base of the marble fountain at the center of the park, lost in a kiss. Henry scoffed bitterly to himself. Love. What a cruel joke. They'll learn... He blanched as the young woman suddenly broke her boyfriend's embrace and looked up in disgust. The woman stared right at Henry. "Excuse me...do you mind? she yelled, her pretty face crinkled up in an ugly grimace. "What the hell are you staring at, old man? Don't you have better things to do than to stare at us?" Henry muttered something in defense and shuffled off toward the busy street. As he approached his apartment building, Henry tried to recall if he had any food left in the cupboard. A can of green beans and some peanut butter. A few eggs in the fridge, and some grapefruit juice. Henry was exhausted. He really didn't feel like going to the store right now. Maybe a peanut butter sandwich might do the trick until the morning. By the time Henry climbed the creaky stairs to the third floor and flopped down on his couch, he was nearly out of breath. It's hell getting old, he thought. Your body starts to wear down. After that, the mind is surely the next to go. Nothing on television, as usual. Just those stupid goddamn soap operas. Ha! The melodramas on the screen were nothing compared to the soap opera Henry had lived through. They want heartbreak? Henry could give them heartbreak - with a cherry on top! Inevitably, after a few moments of weary reflection, Henry reached under the coffee table and picked up the tattered book which was safely hidden behind a stack of old newspapers. He rubbed his hand over the faded red cover. It was like shaking hands with an old friend. Henry's bony fingers absent-mindedly traced the words, "Diary, 1947," which were etched in gold on the cover. Henry sighed and randomly opened to a dog-eared yellowed page. November 16, 1947 Dear diary: I'm feeling really low-down today. When I got home from work, Maria wasn't home. This is the third time this week. I feel like I'm powerless to do anything about it. Yesterday, Richard came over while I was working in the garage. I could see them through the kitchen window. They were talking about something. I'll bet they were discussing the car. Maria says they're going to pick it out tomorrow. She told me it's nice: a brand new 8-cylinder roadster, with all the trimmings! I'm guess I'm supposed to be happy for Maria. That's what she told me, anyway. But she is my wife, after all, and I'm a little jealous about the whole thing. I don't like the idea of Richard buying my wife a new car. I tried to explain that to Maria, but she told me to keep my nose out of her business. I know I don't have the kind of money Richard has, and I can't compete with him. I'm scared to death. What if Maria is thinking about leaving me? I know this sounds paranoid, but I overheard Richard telling Maria how nice he could make things for her if only she would run off with him. I wish I had the heart to approach Maria about what I overheard, but I just don't. HENRY CLOSED THE DIARY and put his feet up on the coffee table. He closed his eyes and a feeling of sadness washed over him like a sudden bitter wind. Richard and Maria. Just putting those two names together in his mind put a bad taste in Henry's mouth. For nearly 50 years, Henry played over and over in his mind that fateful day when he first brought his boss home for dinner... Richard had started at the Mutual Life Insurance Co. in 1943, the same year as Henry. But while Richard kept getting promotions, eventually working his way up to manager, Henry was stuck in his original position as a clerk. Richard was handsome and dynamic. Henry was a dud - even Maria told him so. Not surprisingly, Henry had always harbored feelings of resentment toward his supervisor. After Richard met Maria, Henry had ample reason to resent his swarthy, arrogant boss. It started innocently enough. One Friday night, Richard told Henry he was coming by the house after work to discuss some business. Henry was happy for the chance to get in good with his boss, and suggested he stay for dinner. Richard had been riding Henry about his poor performance at work lately, and Henry needed all the brownie-points he could get. Richard arrived right on time. When Henry introduced his boss to Maria, he could sense trouble immediately. As soon as Richard's hand touched Maria's, the sparks were evident. Neither Richard nor Maria seemed to want to end the handshake, and they stood there, lost in each other's eyes until Henry coughed loudly and broke up the moment. All through dinner, Maria flirted with Richard, making no bones about her attraction to him. For most husbands, it would've been enough to warrant a good talking-to, at the very least. But Henry didn't exactly wear the pants in this relationship, and he chewed his food in anguished, submissive silence, watching it all unfold right there at the dinner table. After dinner, Richard turned to Maria. "Hey, I just bought a brand new '48 Lincoln. I just picked it up yesterday. Would you like to go for a spin?" Maria smiled broadly. "Wow, a Lincoln! I'd love to!" "That sounds like fun," Henry piped in. "I never rode in a Lincoln before." Maria and Richard both stared at Henry, annoyed. "Henry, I think it's best if you stay here and finish up the dishes," Maria said, turning to Richard with a smug smile. She loved to flaunt her power over her husband at every opportunity. Richard opened his briefcase. "Here are those papers I need typed up," he said as he tossed a stack of papers onto the kitchen table. Richard stood up and took Maria by the hand, gently guiding her up from her seat. "I need them finished by Monday." Henry watched sadly as his boss escorted his wife toward the front door. "How long are you going to be?" Henry asked, a trace of melancholy in his voice. "Oh, don't you worry about Maria," Richard said. "I'll take good care of her, Henry! Besides, you have work to do!" And then they disappeared. It was past midnight when Henry heard the car pull up in front of the house. He parted the curtain just a touch and peeked out the living room window. His wife and Richard sat in the car, engaged in conversation. Henry could've swore he saw Richard lean over and give Maria a kiss, but in the dim glow of the streetlight he couldn't be sure. After about 45 minutes, Maria finally waltzed through the front door with a look of utter self-satisfaction on her face. "You still awake?" she asked her husband, who now sat slumped in the easy chair listening to the radio. "I thought you'd be in bed by now. Were you waiting up for me, sweetie?" she asked, her eyes filled with glee. "You were gone an awful long time, Maria," Henry droned sadly. "Where in the world were you?" Maria's smiled to herself and regarded her droopy husband for a moment. Pathetic. Henry asked the question again: "Where did you guys go?" "Honey, you don't even want to know," was all Maria said before she pranced upstairs to the bedroom. After the bedroom door closed, Henry sat there for a moment, simmering in a bowl of depression. He reached behind the radio and pulled his diary from its secret hiding place. With a trembling hand, he began to write. October 13, 1947 Dear diary, I'm losing Maria and I don't know what to do about it. My boss came over for dinner tonight, and I think Maria's falling for him! They left after dinner, and they were gone for almost four hours! I'm not a dummy; I think I know what happened. When she came home, a button on her dress was missing, and her stockings were torn. I didn't say anything, but don't think I didn't notice! What am I going to do? If Maria is falling for Richard, I'm scared I won't be able to do anything about it. Maria is always telling me how she's attracted to tall, handsome men. Richard fills that bill perfectly, I'm afraid. I wish I could be man enough to stand up for myself, but unfortunately, I'm not. Maria has always told me to watch out; that someday a knight in shining armor was going to sweep her off her feet and take her away from her dull, humdrum life as a clerk's housewife. I always took it as a joke. Now I'm not so sure. * * * THE SHRILL WAIL OF A CAR ALARM just outside the window woke Henry from his nap. He was still clutching the faded diary. His bones creaked as he shifted his position on the couch. He often wondered if Maria was still alive. He hadn't heard a word from her in almost 50 years - since the day she ran off with Richard. January 3, 1948. That dreary, rainy day would be etched in Henry's mind forever. So would the vision of his wife walking out the front door, suitcases in hand. She never even glanced back. That was the worst part. During the early years of the marriage, Henry had tried his best to make a good home for Maria. But she always had the upper hand, and she never let Henry forget it. The word "wimp" hadn't been invented yet, but that's exactly how Maria saw her husband. The weatherman on the television news was warning of an imminent storm, but Henry wasn't paying attention... November 29, 1947 Dear diary: Maria and Richard are gone right now. They went to see the new Gary Cooper movie. She had promised me that we would go together, but last night when Richard asked her to go, she immediately said yes. I just finished washing Maria's new car. She loves that car so much, I have to wash and wax it twice a week! I must confess: every time she mentions that damn car, I seethe. It's a constant reminder of Richard. She knows it, too. Richard loves to flaunt his money in front of me. In addition to the car, he's been buying Maria sultry new outfits to wear - expensive stuff, too. I've even noticed a few new pairs of skimpy underthings in Maria's top drawer. She yelled at me earlier today. She was mad because I hadn't cleaned the house, and Richard was coming by to pick her up for their movie. She called me all kinds of bad things, and I must admit, it made me cry a little. I know a man isn't supposed to show his feelings like that. But then again, I haven't felt much like a man lately. She keeps telling me she's tired of being married to me. I can feel it coming. I'm afraid she's planning to move to California with Richard. He just bought some property out there, and that's all he talks about. Maria seems excited about Richard's new California home, which tells me something suspicious is going on. I don't know; maybe I'm just too anxious about things, but they've both been acting funny lately. I hope it's my imagination. I pray Maria makes it home tonight. Last time Richard took her out, she didn't get in until the next morning. She doesn't even try to hide where she's been. What kind of man am I to put up with this? I wish I had an answer... I only know one thing for sure: if I ever do lose her, I shall never recover. * * * THE SCRAWLED HANDWRITING on the page became a blur, and Henry rubbed his eyes. When Henry was a young man, he had 20/20 vision, but in the waning years, the vision was beginning to dim. Even reading was becoming difficult. Henry wearily leaned forward and put the diary back into its hiding place under the coffee table, behind the stack of newspapers. Slowly, he stood up and stretched his stiff arms. Then he shut off the television and shuffled off to bed. THE END 2728 1.11/512345