The Bad Side of a Good Man( part 1)

Margaret watched the heap of bubbles rise in the kitchen sink, growing slowly until they became a snowy foam mountain, the sunlight making delicate rainbows on the soapy circles. Usually, the washing of the morning dishes was an enjoyable chore, a time to look out of the window into the backyard and mentally put the day’s coming tasks in order. But, today, Margaret was far from her normal thoughts of running the household in the strict regimen that she found so comforting. Recently, over the last few days, something had changed. A hint of abnormality in her life had whispered it’s arrival, leaving her pondering the question of what exactly was happening to make her feel this way.

Dipping a coffee cup into the soapy water Margaret watched as it sank below the white suds and disappeared to the bottom of the sink. Raising her eyes, she once again looked out of the window. This time her gaze moved beyond the flower garnished patio, past the Athenian styled bird bath that sat nestled in an sea of green Bermuda grass, and fixed her sight on the tan metal shed that her husband George used as a workshop. At seventy-eight years of age, Margaret’s eyes took a few moments to adjust their focus on the small building. Intuition told her that the answer to her suspicions was inside that workshop. Over fifty years of marriage had given her a sixth sense view into her husband’s mindset and she knew that there was a reason that he was spending more time than usual out in that shed. Being a woman who believed that action was the best solution to handling any problems, Margaret made up her mind to find out what was inside the tan building.

George Morgan was being a very bad boy indeed. Sitting in the sanctuary of his workshop he felt the old excitement that he used to feel as a youngster when he and his lifelong friend, Roy, would find mischief to get into. In the small town that they had grown up in, the two buddies garnered quite a reputation as rabble rousers. Lighting a cigar, an act that his wife considered sinful, he settled onto the wooden stool in front of his workbench. George grinned as he recalled the time that he and Roy had “borrowed” a few of farmer Thompson’s prize laying hens and relocated them to the top of the town’s water tower. The prank went unnoticed until the sheriff began getting reports that citizens were being occasionally pelted by eggs that sprinkled down from a clear blue sky.

Man, the times that those two had together. They had planned to see the world together, to conquer distant lands and live the lives of adventurous vagabonds. The future was an open book for them to write their glorious exploits upon. Then the duo ran into a small hitch in their plans. On a sunny day, when George was twenty-two, he walked into Crown’s grocery for a soda. As he was trying to decide between a grape or an orange pop he heard the most lovely voice coming from the back room of the store. Intrigued, he followed the singing and peeked inside the small room. George’s eyes fell upon Margaret as she was busy opening boxes, taking inventory of the new stock that had arrived earlier that morning. Margaret who had just turned twenty, had recently come to live with her aunt and uncle, who owned the store, and to help take care of their growing brood of children. Standing silently, the mesmerized George couldn’t even finish his drink. His life was changing with every note that floated from Margaret’s voice and he was powerless to resist. By the time that he walked out of the store, George was hopelessly in love.

To be continued…