Quaint Acres

Photo by Ian MacDonald on Unsplash

The sauce had left a steel taste in her mouth. She made a pot of tea to wash it away.

“This is the new book from the library,” she said. He didn’t look up. He kept reading his newspaper, looking over his glasses now and then.

“Kay recommended it. She said it would make me feel better.” He studied the stock page, running his finger down the columns.

“It’s about a woman who gets three wishes and her life is changed.” Her husband neither nodded nor responded. He kept reading. “I am so curious how it ends. Kay wouldn’t tell me. Just that I’d be surprised and would feel better.”

He looked up. “You feelin’ bad?”

“I’m good. Kay just thinks that I’m always down, worrying too much. She thinks I covet other people’s lives. Can you believe that? She uses that word sometimes. Covet.”

“Probably picked it up at church. Likely thinks it sounds smart.”

“Well, she is smart. But maybe not about me. I don’t covet.”

His face was impassive, and he kept his eyes down on the newspaper. Every now and then he’d flip his wrists to fluff the paper. It made her think of airing a blanket.

She flipped to the back and found the last page. “176 pages. I’ll be done in a few days.”

He glanced up and back down.

“Wishes are funny things aren’t they?” She turned the book over and ran her hand down the front cover. She looked up and out the window and then brought her gaze back to the book. “What would you wish for if you could wish for anything?”

He looked up and wrinkled his eyes as if he was processing what she had just said. As if she had announced that Martians were coming to tea. All the world fell silent to her, and it seemed as if time had stretched out.

“What would I wish for?” He stuck his neck forward.

She waited. She took a sip of her tea and placed her cup down slowly. “Well, three wishes. Like a genie.”

He stood up and shuffled to the old stove and poured a cup of tea. “Need a refill?” She gave a slight shake of her head while pursing her lips.

He sat back down and looked at her intently. She waited, knowing he was thinking of his answer. It was this thoughtfulness that had attracted her to him all those years ago. She knew to wait.

“I might wish that I had chosen a different profession.”

“But you love your job.”

“That wasn’t the question.”

She was silent and patted her hand on the book cover.

“No. You’re right. The question was what would you wish for. And you might wish to have chosen another profession.” She said the last sentence as if it were a question. “What profession would you have chosen then?”

“I might have been a newspaper man.” He paused. “Or else a stockbroker.”

“Well those are wildly different don’t you think?”

“Is that a factor in the wishing?”

“Well no.”

She flipped through the book’s pages.

“And you?” He looked directly into her eyes.

“Oh I don’t know. I guess I would wish for a house out in Quaint Acres, bigger yard, more trees, a bit more prestige.”

He continued to look at her without acknowledging her comment with any facial expression.

“Kay’s right you know.” He looked back at his paper.

“She is not.” She gestured with her hand in an awkward nod. “And maybe if you had been a newspaper man or a stockbroker, we would have bought a house in that neighborhood.”

He looked up and held her gaze.

“Maybe I should have been a traveling salesman.”

“Don’t you start now.”

He took a long draw of his tea. “You can wish for anything you want,” he said. “And so can I. And they’re not dependent on each other.”

The phone began to ring.

“So you’re saying my wishes and your wishes can be separate?” She stood to go answer it. “We can want different things and that’s okay?”

He watched her as she went into the hallway to answer the phone. He gave a shake of his head and resumed his reading.

She returned a few minutes later.

“That was Kay.” She sat back down. “I told her that I got the book but haven’t started yet.”

She paused and looked down at the book.

“She wanted to know what our wishes were.”

He raised his head swiftly. She looked up and caught his stare. She shifted in her chair and crossed her legs.

“What did you tell her?”

She smiled faintly. “I told her that we’re not people who covet.”