Maggy crossed Main Street on foot. She veered right, around the Police Station, and took the east fork in the road. Mike’s boarding house was three blocks down at 112 Sherman Drive.

When Maggy arrived, Ida Cruthers was on the lawn surveying her landscaping. She looked up, pushing her straw hat farther back on her small head, and said, “Why Maggy Broden! It’s nice to see you, dear. How’s Mike? We’ve heard about the unfortunate accident. We all have been praying for his speedy recovery.”
Maggy gave her a warm smile. “He’s doing fine, Mrs. Cruthers. He has a little too much gumption for his own good, if you ask me. He sent me to pick up a change of clothes and his shaving kit.”

“Would you like me to let you into his room, dear?”

“Thank you, ma’am. But he gave me his key.”

Mrs. Cruthers nodded. “I’ll see you in a little while, then.”

Maggy smiled and made her way into the building. The entranceway was dark. A small chandelier made of blown glass was set on a dimmer and barely lit the brick foyer. The brick quickly ended at the first hallway where polished oak took over. Maggy turned into the hallway and headed to the stairs at the end. She bumped into Phil Cruthers as he closed one of the downstairs apartment doors.

“Maggy?” he said, looking surprised. He carried a small toolbox in his right hand. A cigar dangled between his lips.

Mr. Cruthers was in his mid sixties. His wife of thirty-four years was seventy. They were a very happy couple and rumor had it, that in their prime, they were both hell raisers. Neither was judgmental of others, and Maggy found them refreshing after the scene with Miss Celban.

“We heard about Mike’s accident. How is he?”

“He’s going to be just fine, Mr. Cruthers. He asked me to fetch him a change of clothes.”

Phil nodded. “Do you need for me to let you in?”

Maggy held out her key.

Phil smiled. “I see. Room 208. End of the stairs on the right.”

“Thank, you.”

Maggy turned the key to room 208 and pushed open the heavy oak door. The room was strictly masculine in every detail. The furniture was solid and weighted. To her left an oak desk,  stained light brown with wormholes and dark gashes marring its surface, was pushed up against the wall. A banker’s lamp rested on the far right corner. The chair that went with it was also solid oak. It swiveled on cast iron pivots; the back was upholstered in leather. An oversized plaid couch sat facing the fireplace with its back to the door and an end table at either side. Next to it was a brown upholstered chair. A throw rug connected the two to make a less than formal conversational arrangement.

Maggy entered the apartment and noticed the white nondescript linoleum floor needed waxing in the kitchenette. Mike’s bedroom was located to the right of the kitchenette. The door that separated it from the rest of the apartment was slightly ajar. She crossed the floor and glanced at the kitchen. Mike left no dirty dishes in the sink. Dishtowels were hung neatly on wooden racks built into the wall by the window. She took a quick glance about the apartment and noticed that even though the furnishings were old, the overall appearance of the apartment was clean and tasteful.

In the bedroom the drapes were drawn, keeping the room in deep shadow. The bed was unmade; a red and black plaid bedspread was pulled to the end, its corners touching the floor exposing white sheets, wrinkled with use. Maggy went to the bed and started to make it. Leaning over to pull the sheets up to the head of the bed, the scent of Mike whiffed up to her. She sat down and pulled one of the pillows to her face. She loved his smell. The faint scent of his cologne, soap, and herbal shampoo, tempered with his own individual scent.

Maggy stretched out on the bed and stared at the ceiling, imagining his face above her. She felt herself being pulled into fantasy as his face hovered just above hers and his strong arms encircled her. The phantasm leaned in and kissed her lips. His hand stroked her hair as she pulled him down upon her. The hand then moved from behind her ear and to her cheek. It caressed her, moving softly farther down…

When Maggy opened her eyes she was alone in the room. The shades were still drawn. She sat up, pulling her dress with her. She quickly redressed, her hands shaking and she fought to steady them. She felt deeply troubled and embarrassed to have gotten so caught up in her own fantasies.

She quickly made the bed, pulling the spread over the pillows and tucking it under for a sharp fold. Then she went to Mike’s bureau. Searching the drawers she found a pair of Levis. She pulled them loose and continued searching. She readily found Mike’s sock drawer. She grabbed a pair of thick cotton socks. The drawer next to it was filled with underwear. Maggy stared. She felt intrusive. Again images of Mike invaded her mind. She shook them away and quickly snatched the briefs and closed the drawer. She set the jeans, underwear and socks on the bed and went to Mike’s armoire and pulled it open. Six kaki uniform shirts shared the space with three plaid flannel shirts and two white dress shirts. She yanked a red flannel shirt from a hanger and tossed it on the bed next to the rest of Mike’s clothing.

A second bureau sat to the right of the bed. Unlike the first, which was upright, this one was low and horizontal. In this one Mike kept his clean towels, bedding, and shaving accessories. To the side of it was a wooden stand. Two white towels were draped over it. Maggy smiled and touched the towels. She smelled them: soap and herbal shampoo.

Maggy returned her attention to the bureau and searched the top drawers. She retrieved a small satchel. After unzipping it, she inventoried its contents. A razor, a bar of soap, toenail clippers, brush, comb, toothbrush, paste, cologne and Mike’s shampoo were inside. Maggy tossed it on the bed. On the top of the dresser, she found the shaving mug, soap and brush. She went through the rest of the drawers until she found an empty pillowcase.

She slid the shaving equipment into the case and returned to the bed. After adding Mike’s clothing and toiletries she left the room. She slung the sack over her shoulder and left the apartment, stopping briefly to lock the door.

Maggy went immediately up the stairs to the hall bathroom, once home. She arranged Mike’s things for him on the bathroom shelf, then returned downstairs in search of Mike and Kelly. She found them minutes later, busy on the back porch playing checkers. Kelly was ahead with three “kinged” disks.

Mike looked up when Maggy pushed open the screen door. “How’d it go?”

“Fine.” Her composure only slightly regained. “Your things are in the upstairs bathroom.”

“Thank yo.” Mike turned to Kelly. “Well, Squirt, if you’re through creaming me at this game, I’ll see you later.”

“Where ya goin’?”

“Get cleaned up,” Mike answered and stood from the swing. Maggy rushed to help him and he let her. She held the door for him as he passed through.

“C’mon in Kelly. You can’t stay out here by yourself,” Maggy said once Mike was inside.

“But Hoov-”

“Go untie him and bring him in with you.”

Once Kelly was safely inside, Maggy bolted the back door and continued with her efforts at attending Mike.

“What’s the matter?” Mike asked once at the stairs.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re all flushed. Did something happen?”

“I have a lot of housework to do,” Maggy explained and rushed Mike up the stairs, aware of him the whole while.

Once at the top of the stairs Mike pulled her aside. “What? Did you run all the way back?” Mike noticed her palms were sweaty. Her breath came in short spurts. Her expression was tense and she avoided his eyes. “Talk to me.”

She didn’t answer his question. Instead, she leaned into him, her face turned up. He read her actions and lowered his lips to hers. They kissed tenderly at first but the heat between them increased. The intensity of their kiss increased with it. Mike pulled her closer, acutely aware of his own response to her need.

Tears creased Maggy’s eyes in the release. 

Mike pulled away and noticed them. “What’s the matter?” His tone was  tender, loving. “There’s something bothering you.”

She shook her head. She looked deep into his eyes.“I want to make love to you.”

Mike smiled and pulled her closer. “I see.”

“Don’t you want to?” Maggy asked, her own voice soft.

“Oh yeah,” he whispered. “Like you wouldn’t believe.”

“Then why–?”

“It's not a good idea.”

“Hank and Mary’s love was so powerful, that they threw away convention.”

“I’d like to think ours is strong enough that we are able to wait, knowing we’ll be there for each other when the time is right.”

Her eyes were full of sadness- almost regret. She looked deeply into his. “I know so little. I never had anyone to talk to about this... these feelings. They’re festering, They burn.”

Mike’s smile faded. His expression turned serious as he contemplated the girl in front of him. He took her into his uninjured arm and drew her closer. He kissed the top of her head, and whispered into her ear, “I’d like to be the one to teach you. I hope you give me the chance. And I’m always here to talk.”

Maggy put her arms around him and hugged him tightly. She laid her head against his shoulder. “Only you.”

© Copyright 2025 C J Driftwood. All rights reserved.