Conflicted Mind

The cold December winds rattled the panes of the window. Ice crusted around the edges, sending a bitter chill into the room. Maggie begrudgingly set the sheets aside and scanned the room with bleary eyes. She ran a hand through her messy dark hair and stumbled her way towards the window. Maggie crouched down and glared at the jumbling heater. She tried turning the knob to a higher degree, but when it didn’t work she began banging on its side.

“Damn thing. Work!”

Rustling bed sheets came from behind her and she turned around. David, her husband, looked over at her and yawned into his hand. “What are you doing, Mags?”

Maggie stopped banging on the heater and glanced up at David. He was a handsome young man with a PhD in law and born to a wealthy family to boot. Most women in her Sunday brunch club loved him and could never stop gushing about how lucky Maggie was to have snagged herself a prime, successful husband.

If only they knew.

Maggie eased herself back up and gestured at the heater. “It won’t work, David. I thought you had it fixed last week.”

David groaned and eased himself up the bed. “I said I was going to fix it. But with everything happening at the firm and laying people off...I just didn’t have the time.”

In the line of Smith girls, Maggie had what her grandma would call the Smith Twitch. It was something that could not be helped and happened to every woman in her family when she was annoyed like you could not believe. This was definitely one of those moments.

Maggie pressed her fingers to her mouth in a prayer-like gesture. She inhaled once and sighed, looking over at her husband. “David. You promised me.”

“I don’t get why this bugs you so much, Maggie.” David waved at the bedroom door. “There are extra sheets down the hall and in the kids’ room. Why don’t you just get some and bring them back?”

“Oh,” Maggie quipped. “So now I have to take the kids to school, care for your sick mother, buy the groceries, and do your bidding? What’s next, David? Are you going to ask that I quit my job too?”

David sighed and squeezed the back of his neck. “Why do you always have to be so dramatic?” He looked Maggie over, as though he were assessing her worth. “And, honestly, how much money can you actually make from writing those horror books?”

“It’s what I love and am good at, David. I thought you would be a little more supportive.”

“Right, because selling two books in three freaking years is such an accomplishment.”

The room quieted with an air of tension that was almost suffocating. David moved to get out of the bed. “Maggie, no. I didn’t mean --”

She held up a hand, stopping him in his tracks. “No. You did.”

Tired and beyond fed up with this shitty night, Maggie moved to leave. David’s eyes tracked after her, uneasy and confused as to what he should do. 

“Where are you go --”

“I’m getting a drink. Go back to sleep.”

Without another word, Maggie walked out of the room and shut the door, cutting David off. She so badly wanted to slam it, but didn’t want to wake up her babies.

God, she couldn't wait for that drink.

***

Downstairs the kitchen lights illuminated glass cabinets and a bottle of half finished wine on the counter. Maggie sat with her elbows leaning on the counter, twirling her glass of wine. Whenever David and her got into these daily fights of theirs, she found that her good old glass of wine was always the quickest remedy to escape. Escape from the responsibilities hanging over her like smoke choking the life out of her. Escape from a husband who refused to kiss, acknowledge, or even make love with her for such a long time. Just escape from...everything.

Maggie set the glass of wine down and was readying to head back upstairs when the home phone rang. Curious, she walked over and picked up the phone.

“Hello?”

“Maggie? That you?”

At the sound of that rich, smooth voice Maggie couldn’t help the smile that stretched her face. “Hey, Addison. What, uhm...Why are you calling this late?”

Chuckling came from the other end. “I had a feeling you would be up. Last I saw you this morning, you looked like the walking dead.”

Maggie snorted. “Of course you would say that.”

The two briefly laughed in joint amusement before Addison finally decided to cut in.

“Seriously though. What’s going on?”

“Nothing! Nothing, I just -- I was so tired and I needed to pick up the kids, so I --”

“No, I’m not talking about this morning when we --” Addison sighed long and hard on the other hand. “I’m not talking about that. I mean what’s going on with you right now. Why are you up so late?”

Damn, Maggie could feel the wave of a blush heating all the way down to her neck. She wanted to bury herself alive and forget the last five seconds. Or morning. But she couldn’t take it back. Even though it felt so right and good at the time...she knew it was wrong. Maggie was married and no matter how terrible of a husband David was, she had to put her family first.

“Right -- Right, of course! I didn’t mean to... I just got into a fight with David again.” Maggie tried to laugh it off. “What can you do, am I right?”

She could imagine Addison shaking her head on the other side.

“Not funny, Mags.”

“Yeah. Sorry.”

Rustling sounded from the phone and creaking, like someone sitting on a chair. “Don’t be sorry. I just want to help any way I can. If you and David are having troubles, then…”

Maggie clutched the phone harder in her hand, eager to hear what Addison had to say.

“Y-yeah?”

A pause that felt like a millenia passed before Addison sighed into the phone. “Look. I’ve known you since we were little girls, Mags. Sure, we never got along at first, but you always did what you thought was right.” Addison sniffed. “You’re my ride or die, hon. That’s never going to change. No matter if -- when you sort this stuff out with David. You can make it work. I know you can.”

Maggie wanted to scream into the phone. So what they did that morning meant nothing to her? Because it definitely meant something to Maggie. And...why was she so angry about this? She was married! If anything, Maggie should be regretful and begging David to forgive her, right? Right.

“Yeah, you’re right. I’m sure if we just talk about it and sort things out, it’ll be fine.”

“Good.”

“Yeah.”

“So…” Addison stopped to think about something, then mused, “See you tomorrow? Same time?”

Was she insinuating what Maggie thought she was insinuating? If so, why the fuck was she doing this now? It was like a never ending cycle between them. No matter how hard Maggie tried to pull back, Addison and her always found a way back to each other again. 

How could something so wrong feel so right?

This was bad. Maggie knew this was bad, but she couldn’t stop herself from replying, “Yeah. See you tomorrow. Miss you.”

“...Miss you too, hon.”

Maggie hung up the phone and looked over at her half empty wine glass.

There was going to be hell to pay for this.

But she just didn’t care. Not anymore.