Art Trip

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: Romance  |  No Houses

Chapter 13 (v.1) - Chapter 13

Submitted: January 27, 2018

Reads: 236

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Submitted: January 27, 2018

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Maggie was right Richard thought, the weather was keeping people out of their shop. It was the sort of day that people went shopping for essential stuff, like food and petrol. Nice to have, like antique paintings and books can wait for a dry day.

Maggie had been gone over an hour to have lunch with Janet but to be honest he was glad to have some time to himself to think things through concerning the future between him and Maggie.

He scrolled the internet looking for advice on how long should a man leave before he asked his girlfriend to marry him? To his annoyance there was no manual, no dummies guide to picking the right time.

Then to his realisation, he was doing it again, trying to find everything neatly bundled up for him. But as he learnt to his cost with other potential girlfriends, there is no plug ‘n’ play relationship. The is no woman that comes pre-loaded with your history, your likes and dislikes, your expectations. In computing terms every person you meet comes with a clean hard drive.

Then from the moment you meet you start to upload your files, your pictures until eventually you both have a bank of information to call upon to share and talk about. That’s why it was always awkward for him to talk on a first date because neither Richard or his date had a point of reference from where to start. Richard didn't do small talk.

He was feeling angry again, why didn’t his mother and father give him an older brother or sister. Someone he could watch and learn from, why did he have to find out all this relationship stuff by himself?

Then he became angry with himself. He asked the same questions as he always asked himself, why didn’t he stay behind at school for the after-hours clubs. Why didn’t he go to the youth clubs? Why did have to insists all the time that he was wanted at home, lame excuse after lame excuse only to play with his bloody toy soldiers. At sixteen he was still playing with his soldiers.

Now at the age of thirty-three he was still, metaphorically speaking, playing with his soldiers instead of building a relationship with Maggie. She was one in a million that woman and she deserved a gold medal for sticking with him, waiting for those bloody toy soldiers to go back in their box.

He couldn’t give her a gold medal, but he could give her a gold ring. He fumbled in the drawer until his hand touched the small tatty red velvet box. He brought it out and open the lid, Great Aunt Rose wedding ring. He’d get Maggie her own one naturally, but this was his symbol of commitment towards her and he had every intension of presenting it to her during their week in Florence.

He was so engrossed with his thoughts that he almost missed hearing doorbell tingled. From the other side of the shop he saw Maggie’s umbrella come through the door before her. He quickly pushed the ring box back into his draw.

He looked up in time to see her beaming smile and hear her cheerful voice, “Hi honey, I’m home.”


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