The Gift

The Gift

         “I don’t believe this!”  It’s a quarter to seven in the morning and the wind is whipping at the side of the house so hard it disturbed my sleep.  Bleary eyed, my nightgown up around my waist and twisted, I throw the covers off me.  The first thing I notice is the cool air.  I roll over and put my feet down on the floor, slip into my slippers and go to the bathroom. 

         While sitting there and dozing, the alarm goes off, it’s seven.  Where the hell is Bob.  “Bob turn off the alarm clock!”  No answer.  Dropping my panties in the hamper, I get up and wash, go into the bedroom and turn off the annoying buzz. 

         Down in the kitchen I find a note:

Carole-
Went to Marshals Hills to the indoor driving range, be back at one.  Sorry but I only left you a little milk, but there is a full pot of coffee.
Luv Bob

         “He’ll be back with a load on, he does this every other Saturday!”

         Looking out the back door, the thermometer on the deck post reads twenty-eight degrees, it was forty yesterday at this time.  I watch our neighbor’s flag flying parallel to the ground and whipping around like mad, this is going to be a bad one. 

         The breadbox is full of donuts left over from the card party, I pour a cup of the coffee; it’s still steaming hot.  In the fridge are orange juice and just enough milk for one cup.  Breakfast is quick, juice, two donuts and coffee.  I also notice that my cupboard is as bare as my butt right now. 

         Back in the bedroom I make the bed, slip out of my nightgown and into the shower, setting the water as hot as I can stand.  Pink as a baby, I towel myself down and start to dress.  Underwear, knee-highs, lined wool pants, cotton long sleeved turtleneck and long sleeved wool sweater. 

         My winter boots with a short heel are in the bedroom closet along with my hooded parker.  After putting on the boots, then go down to the kitchen, carrying the coat under my arm.  A quick inventory of my supplies, making a list and I’m ready to go.  After opening the front door and getting hit with a blast of cold air, I decide I need a hat, scarf and gloves. 

         Back up to the bedroom, the last time I used them was last year.  Searching both bedroom closets, nothing.  Then it struck me, I used to put them on the shelf in the hall closet down stares last winter. 

         The light was out in the closet, reaching up to change it; I noticed a shiny gift box with a pink ribbon sitting on the top shelf.  After replacing the bulb, I get my scarf, wool cap and gloves.  I wonder, is that for me?  On my tiptoes I take the box down.  The card is written in Bob’s hand and reads:
Anna:
Something you said you wanted, but didn’t have the courage to buy.  Next time wear this for me.
With great affection.
Bobby

         “Anna, who the hell is Anna?”

         Leaving a trail of scarf, cap and gloves as I walk into the living room.  I sit on the couch and place the package in front of me on the coffee table.  My heart is pounding in my chest, I feel myself go flush and hot.  I can hardly breath, my hands are shaking as I finger the ribbon and the bright red paper.  Tears are welling up in my eyes and my nose is beginning to run.  “How could he…”

         Ripping the ribbon and paper off, the logo reads, “ANGELA’S CLOSET, EXOTIC NIGHTWEAR” inside is a black lace bustier, and a shear negligee. 

         Taking off the coat and kicking off the boots, I pour myself a rock glass full of vodka, the first gulp burned all the way down.  Pulling off my sweater, I hold the bustier against me; it would fit perfectly.  Then the negligee, laying the material against my hand; it was like looking through slightly tinted glass, it would also fit nicely. 

* * *

         One thirty and I hear the door open, “Honey, I brought milk.”  I can hear him toss his clubs into the den and move into the kitchen.  “Hun, you home?”

         “I’m up here, in the bedroom.”  Come on up.

         “You still in bed?”  I can hear him climbing the stairs, then down the hall to the bedroom door. 

         “Are you sic…” He stopped mid word when he saw me in bed.  I had stripped the bedding and threw it on the floor at the foot of the bed.  The box and ripped shiny paper on the floor in front of him.  All I was wearing was the negligee; I hung the bustier over the bedpost.  His note to his Anna scotch taped to the foot board and my legs spread wide apart. 

         “Like what you see, is this what you expected Anna to look like?”

         I still own the house, the car and receive four thousand a month in alimony.

Word Count = 857