#73
The Marriage Magician
By Sean Gilbert
about the author here
"WELL, LOOK AT THAT piece of action!” my uncle Pete exclaimed as my
aunt
Margaret and I looked on. The woman turned halfway toward him, scowling
as
she exited the waiting room with her boyfriend.
“Uncle Pete,” I cautioned. The boyfriend had been scowling at us, too.
And
he was big. Luckily, he left without doing anything; maybe Pete and I
didn’t
look too threatening. A skinny old man and his spindly, bespectacled
nephew
don’t arouse much jealousy, I guess.
“Marriage Magician my eye,” Pete complained, returning to the subject
he’d
been harping on for the last half hour. My uncle scowled at his wife,
who
was sitting across from him.
“Marg, the only magic this marriage needs is a few months of aerobics
and
some antifreeze.” He smirked and reached over to pinch her thigh.
“Oh, Peter,” she sighed.
It was a familiar refrain. I didn’t know how Margaret stood it,
really.
This man had been sniping at her for the better part of thirty years,
his
sharp crow’s voice often condemning her stiffness and the size of her
backside, but regularly harping on her choice in friends, lack of
cooking
expertise, and anything else that came to mind.
And the most she ever came back with was a resigned “Oh, Peter.”
I didn’t think she looked too bad, personally. Sure, she’d aged since
Pete
had first brought her in to the family, a warm, sunny woman fifteen
years
his junior, but that’s life, right?
According to Pete, though, she was anything but warm.
“Twenty-six years this Saturday,” Pete said with a grunt, as if reading
my
thoughts, “And we could’ve gone to Barbados for this kind of money.”
“Oh, Peter.”
He did have a point. From what they’d told me when I picked them up
from
their apartment, this appointment had cost upward of seven thousand
dollars.
I looked again at the framed poster on the wall behind the
receptionist’s
desk.
THE MARRIAGE MAGICIAN: WE WORK MIRACLES…For REAL!
Our attention was aroused by the departure of another lovely young
woman and
her companion. Although embarrassed by Pete’s leer, I had to admit she
was
quite a looker.
Margaret followed Pete’s (and my) gaze before we turned back inward to
face
each other. Margaret’s eyes seemed to have narrowed slightly and I felt
a
flush rising on my cheeks. She noticed my discomfort and smiled at me,
shooting me a quick wink.
“Well, if he can’t hook me up with something like that, then I don’t
see
what this doctor’s gonna do for me,” my uncle said, crossing his arms.
“He’s supposed to be able to work miracles,” Margaret ventured.
“Yeah, yeah. It’s the hardest you’ve pushed for anything in years. We
could’ve gone to Jamaica.”
“Oh, Peter. That’s nonsense.”
I rolled my eyes, silently agreeing with her. Pete hadn’t taken his
wife on
vacation in over ten years. They just weren’t all that interested in
each
other anymore…if they ever had been.
“Mr. and Mrs. O’Brien?” a nurse had come into the waiting room from the
back. “The doctor will see you now.”
“Swell.” Pete rose, as did my Aunt.
“Wait here, kiddo.”
“Sure.”
I leaned back in my chair and again glanced at the poster with the
fancy
lettering.
WE WORK MIRACLES…For REAL!
I smiled to myself, shaking my head and leaning back in my chair.
Miracles?
It’d take a doozy to fix that marriage.
“Brian?” It was Margaret’s soft voice. I started slightly, jolted out of my nap.
“Aunt Margaret,” I said, rising to my feet. “Ready to go?”
As I stood, I caught sight of another vision of a young woman loitering at the receptionist’s desk. Her skin was smooth and clear, and her black hair fell around her shoulders fetchingly. She turned my way quickly, catching me staring.
“What do you think you’re gawking at?” the vision demanded. My mouth dropped open as I heard a sharp, familiar voice come out of the woman’s perfect mouth.
“Uncle…uncle Pete?”
“Well, what’s the matter? Never seen a babe in a man’s suit before?”
“What’s going on here?” I managed, in a strangled voice.
“He does work miracles,” my aunt murmured.
Margaret looked -- well, she looked the same, really, but with a certain glow hadn’t been there before.
And she was devouring the new Pete with her eyes.
Pete noticed me watching her and nodded.
“I had no idea, either,” he admitted. “Women, huh? Women and their secrets. But the Doc knew.”
“I need a drink,” I said, feeling faint.
“Good idea – and after that, you can drop us at home.”
Margaret nodded eagerly.
The new Pete grabbed his jacket off the coat rack and noticed the men in the waiting room looking him up and down. His eyes darted around the room nervously.
He grabbed his wife’s hand and dragged her toward the door.
“Come on, Margie, let’s get out of here. And stay close – there’s a lot
of
perverts out there, and I’m spoken for.”
The End.
