Brokenhearted in Bakersfield

 

63 - A DREAM COME TRUE

We all shared a quiet flight home.  Owen whimpered every now and again, but Maggie looked straight ahead and kept real quiet.  It was like we was each in our own thoughts about my success in outmaneuvering Ferris and Rosa.  I was gonna be the brand new Park Manager of Broken Heart Park in Bakersfield, and there wasn’t anything the two Twains could do about it.

Maggie’s fists rested in her lap.  I tried to talk to her but she just shook her head and looked away.  I guess it was pretty overwhelming being in the presence of someone with the manly determination to reach for the stars and grab a handful of stardust.

Once back in Bakersfield we all piled into Maggie’s parked car.  When we reached Broken Heart Park, Owen crawled out of the backseat, and I started to climb out too, but then Maggie clamped on my arm with that iron grip of hers.  She looked at Owen, “I’m taking him with me.”  And with that, Maggie and me raced away in a big ol’ cloud of dust.

As we drove outta Broken Heart Park she peeked at me out the corner of one eye.  “Had ourselves quite a big day today,” she patted my knee, “didn’t we?”

“Pretty darn good if you was to ask me.”  I couldn’t hide my pride.

“Well, the day isn’t over yet,” Maggie gunned the engine, “and neither is the game.  When it comes to the art of the deal, there’s still a thing or two I can teach you, and I’m going to start right now.”  She screeched into a parking lot behind a big billboard for Jasmine Crevasse Condos.

Next morning the sun came shining through Venetian blinds like blades of illusion.  I sat up in Maggie’s bed and looked down at her silent sleeping form.  Her red lipstick smear was all over the pillow and, looking down at my own body, I could trace a trail of hot little rings of the same color.  If I’d ever been with a woman before last night, it’d slipped my mind completely.  What I was sure of was, from here on out, it’d only be Maggie for me.  I ran my fingers as far through her hair as they would go and cooed in her ear, “Wake up Maggie.”

She groaned, “What time is it?”

“About seven-thirty,” I answered with a caress to her lower back.

“Put that away before I smack it with my hairbrush.”  Maggie meant business.  “I need to get over to my office.  Your contracts should be there today.  So you may as well go on over to the local office of Broken Heart Park and get your managerial hat.”

“’K.”  I tried not to sound too disappointed.

“Oh, and by the way, I’m expecting.”

“Huh?”

“I said I’m with child.”

I was confused.  “How can you be so sure?”

“I’m a woman.  We know these things.  I’ve got a biscuit in the oven, I’m in a family way, knocked up, tin-roof rusted.  Whatever you want to call it; I’m pregnant.  Now, go take a shower and get dressed, and then go grab that dream job of yours.  I’ll call you a taxi.”

She emphasized her point by kicking me out of her comfortable goose down bed onto the floor.

Inside Maggie’s bathroom I was surprised to see it was almost as big as Owen’s whole damn camper.  There was lights everywhere, a wall of mirrors, and even two sinks.  Wash and rinse, I guess.  It was all full of girlie stuff, too.  Like, shampoos and little soaps shaped like flowers and fishes and hearts.  It was so crowded with girlie stuff I was happy to get into the shower, except there was more girlie stuff in there too.  There was oils and creams and sponges and a high pile of soaps in a seashell soap dish.  I used the soap-on-a-rope conveniently hanging from the top of the spray nozzle.  It was kind of shaped like a microphone, so I figured Maggie for one of them people who likes to sing in the shower.  I hummed a few notes myself while I washed.

Wrapped in a fluffy towel I came back into the bedroom, and there was clothes already laid out on the bed.

“Here, you can put those on,” Maggie pointed to the bed.  “They were Chuck’s.  He kept some clothes here in case he needed a change after a round of golf.  You might as well get some use out of them.”  That Maggie of mine, always thinking, never stopping.

Chuck Dookie’s 100% polyester shirt draped a little loose on me, and the pants was cut off at the knees, but his clothes was at least clean and soft and so I didn’t mind too much.  I wanted to make a good first impression at the office of Broken Heart Park, Inc.

Before I could get my pants zipped up there was a horn honking outside.  “There’s your ride,” Maggie gave me a peck on the cheek and pushed me out the door.  I was still trying to zip up my pants as I was whisked off to my first day of work at my dream job.

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