Gray Skies Over Portland

Louis looked out the window at the slowly brightening day. It was nearly eight o'clock on a Saturday morning, but the sky still had a sullen grayness that cast everything around him in muted tones. Across the street, he watched a woman jogging, at once defiant of and nervous about the falling rain, a mandatory manifestation during this time of year.

         "Hey, go easy on that stuff," a husky female voice stirred him from his thoughts, and Louis refocused on the beautiful face of his ever patient wife, who was pointing at the jar of sugar whose entire contents he seemed to be pouring into his coffee. He let a few more ounces sprinkle into the dark liquid before tipping the jar back and replacing it in its rightful spot on the table.

         "It's Saturday," Louis said, a smug expression on his face. "I'm allowed to have real sugar on Saturdays, remember?"

         Maddie regarded her husband bemusedly for a moment longer before returning to reading the Living section of that day's paper. "It's your waistline," she said without looking up.

         Louis gave his belly a light pat. He certainly had let himself go these past few years. The days of early morning swims in the Olympic-sized pool at his company's fitness facility seemed so long ago. He continued to pay his membership fees, hoping that fact was enough to steer him back into resuming an exercise regimen. His wife has yet to see that plan succeed. Maddie, on the other hand, was a veritable poster child for Bally's Fitness--fit and womanly muscular. Of course, it helped that she worked at Bally's, where being fit was an unspoken expectation of their employees. "Don't worry, honey. You'll get your hunk back."

         Maddie looked up and simply gave Louis a smile. He's always marveled at how verbose his wife can be without uttering a single word. Behind him, the crowd at the cafe had suddenly gotten loud, as if they were all waiting for him and his wife to finish their conversation before resuming their own. A young family sat in the booth next to theirs, and Louis became aware of two beautiful blue eyes poking between spills of curly blond hair and the red vinyl of the booth chairs.

         "Hello," Louis said, gingerly. As friendly as he knew he wanted his voice to sound, one can never tell how children will react to things. To his delight, the little girl raised herself to show more of her adorable face, an uneven row of teeth showing from her wide, innocent smile. Then, she stuck her tongue out at Louis, swiveled back, and disappeared behind her seat.

         Louis stifled a chuckle, and turned to face his wife once more. Maddie was engrossed in her paper and didn't seem to notice that brief interaction. Louis found his wife's hand and held it. Maddie squeezed back, and looked up at her husband. She saw a look that she'd become familiar with and felt her smile fade. "Oh, no. Not again."

         "Why not?" Louis pleaded, squeezing his wife's hand as she struggled to break free from his loving grip. "Don't you think we've waited long enough?"

         "We are not having this conversation," Maddie said, tersely. "Not here, not now."

         "Sweetie," Louis continued, attempting to maintain a calmness to his voice, "I really think it's time for us to try again."

         Maddie picked up her cup of coffee, and Louis noticed the cup shaking in her hand before she took a sloppy sip. She muttered silent profanity as she wiped her lips with her napkin. "We are not talking about this, and that's final."

         Louis leaned back in his chair and looked out at the pouring rain, a backdrop befitting the sudden turn in that morning's mood. Maddie held an angry expression on her face, as she continued to read her paper. He couldn't blame her; it was only a year ago since her second miscarriage.

         "I'm sorry, sweetie," Louis said, once again finding his wife's hand. She didn't squeeze back. He held her hand for a few more seconds before letting go. As if on cue, the waiter arrived with their order, placing the heaping bowl of sliced fruit in front of Maddie, and the huge omelet in front of Louis. He was absentmindedly forking the country fried potatoes around his plate when he felt a light poking on his right shoulder. He turned around to see a pair of familiar blue eyes staring whimsically at him. He smiled at the little girl, and was, predictably, rewarded with a protruded tongue before she vanished again behind her chair. The little girl's mother gave Louis an apologetic smile, and he shot her a playful shrug then turned around to return to his breakfast.

         Maddie ate her breakfast and continued to ignore her husband. Louis stared at his omelet, suddenly deciding that he wasn't as hungry as he at first thought he was. Outside, the rain had dwindled to a light sprinkle, and he briefly considered going for a run in the afternoon. That thought disappeared just as quickly as it came.

         He felt a light tapping on his shoulder again, and let a wide grin escape his lips before turning around.