(Story for Writer’s Digest Contest #? (750 words max)
Prompt: I lost the verbatim text but had to do with the strong
man and bearded woman.)
“Hans, honey, are you asleep?”
“June, we just laid down.”
She reached. Her soft hand squeezed his forearm. “I know.”
Hans let out a big sigh.
She rolled on her side, staring at him. “Why did you sigh?”
He checked the clock. The red numbers seared the darkness. How long would
this conversation last? Construction starts early, before the elephants used to
sway and rattle their chains. June was unsettled. Her chains clattered. “Please,
whatever it is, can’t it wait?”
June was quiet. Maybe she was crying. He waited for a sniffle or a stuttered
breath. He listened for the cooing pigeons that had soothed him to sleep. They
weren’t there, neither was the rest of the carnival. How can people stand this
suburban peacefulness? How can husbands tolerate the silence of their wives?
“Yes, June, can this one be short? Now, I have to wake early like real people.”
“We’re not real?” She tossed the covers and ran to the bathroom. “I told you this
wouldn’t work!” The bathroom door slammed shut.
Hans lifted his heavy arms and pounded the mattress. The newspapers had not
been kind to them: “Circus Strongman Marries Hairy” “Laser Removal Not an
Option for Bearded Woman.”
He dragged out of the bed. It was getting later, and his aging body needed more
rest. He knocked gently. “June?” Nothing. “June, sugar. Please it’s past
midnight.” Water began to run in the sink. He leaned his head against the door.
“We can always go back, June.” He felt a tingle on his forehead, as his deep
voice vibrated the wooden panel.
“This was your big idea!” She paused then asked, “Would you want to go back?”
Her voice had softened. She sniffled.
He placed his big hands on the door as if he were going to force it open with one
shove. His heart raced. Sleep was no longer an immediate possibility. “Well, I don’
t but if you did.”
“See! I knew it.” She turned the water on again.
Knocking the door down and dragging her back to bed was an option. “Okay.
Was it something I said?”
She turned the water down, not off. “No.”
“Okay, did I…give you a strange look?”
“No.”
What? “Was I not attentive this evening?”
Silence.
Then finally. “Sort of that.”
The idea of crushing through the barrier between them was becoming more
attractive. “Okay, did you have your nails done?”
“Hans, no!”
He clinched his fists and stepped back from the door. “June, I’m angry now.”
The sound of water splattering into the basin grew louder.
“I’m pregnant.” June whispered, barely audible.
His hands opened. “Sugar, that’s wonderful, but how could I notice? Come out
please.”
“Wonderful? What if it’s a girl?”
“We’ll…name her June Bug.” He tested the door, unlocked. A steam cloud hung
near the ceiling and encircled his bald head. June sat on the floor. He scooped
her up and held her close, cradled, secure. He switched the bathroom light off
and sat on the bed with June on his lap.
She gazed at him with her big dark eyes. “You know what I mean.”
“It could be a boy.”
“Or a girl.”
He squeezed her gently. “With your pretty eyes.”
“With my freakish beard.”
Locking himself in the bathroom came to mind. “June.”
“Hans.”
“You’re the most beautiful woman in the world.”
“The circus was a small world.” She pushed away from his chest.
He resisted her until she gave in. “June….”
“Hans….”
“She could look like me?” Hans offered.
June reached up and held his face, turning it side to side, then pinched his big
nose, tweaking it back and forth like a switch. “Now that would be a real problem.”
She tickled his ribs.
“No, no, June stop,” Hans chuckled, clutching for her hands. Catching them, he
slid her off his lap and onto the bed, maneuvering above her.
“June?”
“Hmmm, I thought you were so tired.”
“June, your beautiful.”
“Hans…,” June cooed.
The End
Hans and June
(2008) (Unpublished)
A Short Story by Russell Traughber
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