– Darling!… – an anxious cry came from the kitchen. – Darling, what does that mean?
– What?” The husband quickly jumped up from the couch and hurried to his wife’s voice.
– Darling, what is it?! – Maggie was standing in the center of the kitchen, pointing her finger at the table.
– Where? – the man did not understand.
– What is on this plate?
– Cookies… – John shrugged, – So?
– What do you mean what? – Her voice was shaking with resentment.
– What’s the matter, honey? I don’t understand. – He really didn’t understand what it was that hurt his wife so much.
– Don’t you understand? Today I made your favorite cookies especially for you, and you… You couldn’t eat them all?
– Oh, my God… – …my husband just burst out. – You scared me. It’s no big deal. I didn’t finish a few cookies.
– So what?! – The wife closed her eyes and sat down on the chair. – So that’s it, huh? It’s not a big deal, is it?
– Darling, stop it! You can’t be nervous…
– That’s right, you can’t, – she sobbed. – I only made ten cookies… I wanted to make you happy… I ate a few myself and left the rest for you. I laid down to rest… I dreamed that when you came home from work and saw the cookies, you’d be happy… And you… You couldn’t even finish it.
– What’s the big deal? – He was shocked by his wife’s behavior, but he tried his best to control himself. – What’s the big deal? Explain!
– As what? – His wife doomedly shook her head. – How what?! You eat 15 grand at a time from your mother. And you don’t like mine, do you? I’m not a good hostess, am I?
– Well, darling… – John gently stroked his wife on the shoulder, – I was full, you know. Well, I couldn’t eat everything…
– Couldn’t eat? – She raised her head and looked sadly into her husband’s eyes. – Don’t lie to me, don’t. I understand. You just did not like them. And you came hungry… You could have eaten them all… But you don’t like the way I cook. You only eat your mother’s food and you don’t eat mine… God, I’m such a jerk.
– Honey, you can’t worry.
– Yes, I can’t… – she started stroking her slightly rounded belly… – That’s it, baby, your mom can’t cook, – she was talking to her belly… – How unlucky for you… When you are born, you will have to live with a bad mommy…
– Well, honey! – John couldn’t take it anymore, – do you want me to eat this half-eaten cookie?
– I don’t want to.
– Why not?
– Because you said “half-eaten” like it was half-done. And now I feel a little underdone, too… Yeah, I’m your half-assed… An unfinished wife. Mommy, why did you give birth to me like this? Why didn’t you teach me how to cook?
– “Oh,” John howled, grabbed a cookie off his plate and stuffed it all in his mouth.
– Do not you dare do that! – Stop it! You’ll choke!
But it was too late. John’s eyes widened and he began to chew the cookies and soon, albeit with difficulty, he sent them into his stomach with a loud uterine sound.
– That’s all,” he muttered after a while, catching his breath. – The conflict is over.
Maggie, her eyebrows pulled back into a puff of air, and remained resentfully silent.
John went over to the refrigerator, opened it, took out a large, bulky bag, and put it in front of Maggie.
– Here…
– What is it? – Maggie asked unhappily.
– It’s mom’s cookies. I dropped in on my way home for a minute to see my mother. She called me, asked me to come over. Mom wanted to please you with delicious treats. She knows how much you love her cooking. But I ate half the bag on the way from her to the subway. When I got home, yours were there too. Well, I ate them, too… Sorry, I couldn’t eat them all… Would you like some of mom’s cookies?
– No… – hesitantly replied his wife, but her hand involuntarily reached for the package.
John’s hand reached for the bag as well.
Half an hour later, all that was left of his mother’s cookies was an empty bag and a full, cheerful mood.
