Cold Summer Evening…

Summer Evening, Edward Hopper, 1947

It was happening, after months of waiting, it was happening.
She thought of the time she had patiently wasted. On him.
To adjust and to adapt to his whims and ways.
10 years, 2 months and 14 days, but who was counting?
And she was weak in math, but she managed the counting.

She could have been anywhere at this moment, enjoying a drink at
the pub down the street or having her shop in the countryside.
For crying out loud, she could have been happily married and would
have been enjoying a mid summer make out on the portico on a quiet farm.

But she was here, she had to be here.
How couldn’t she be here after spending so much time scheming to get to him?
She almost choked at her resentment.

Any minute, and she knew, he will kneel down and say it.
He will give her that warm knowing smile, waiting for her obvious yes.

But did she want this? Want him? After all this time?
After all her sacrifices?
She had to make a quick decision before he said those words.
And she made her choice, love for him overwhelmed her.

A hand on his heart, he said those words. Some words.
She was dumbstruck.

I am getting married. Waiting a beat. To your sister.
I finally asked her, today.
And he smiled.
She shivered.

Blind-folded or blind-fooled in love, she still remembered that mid-summer night.
******
Written for Magpie Tales #77. Thank you Tess, for that excellent prompt.