The Megan & Hunter Short Story Series
Number 1--Dinner For Four

Donna & Eric Go To Megan & Hunter's apartment for dinner
Plotline--Megan & Hunter learn about the banalities of married life


Megan did not want to live in Kenosha, Wisconsin, but it just happened. Like Hunter turning down the art college he wanted to go to since he was ten years old. The Harper art institute in Boston, Massachusetts. He did a semester at a local art school, but it was like an actor missing the chance to go to Julliard to instead take a course you see on subway posters or matchbook covers. He quit the school and was able to get a job based on his portfolio at the Whitehall Advertising agency. She much to her parents (esp. her Mother’s dismay) didn’t want to go to college, not because she couldn’t, but because she wanted to concentrate on married life and she had a data entry job for a department store catalog company. She knew that her Husband didn’t go to the Harper school because of her. Of course, he’d deny it. And maybe for an artist like himself going to school for it was a waste of time. (in theory). She didn’t go to college for him and that was a known fact. She had grades good enough to get in any normal non-Ivy league school but she thought married life, their married life, would be different somehow. When she yelled at him to take out the garbage, she felt she turned into Donna yelling at the “hapless” Eric. No, her parents were surprisingly were great. Was she going to have to be old like them before it got great again? Get cancer on top of being handicapped? They weren’t even married a year yet, and it seemed like their majestic wedding was forgotten. Sometimes, she’d put on the recording when she got home early from her job and eat a whole pint of chocolate ice cream. It was not about love. They both loved each other very much. It was about the settled down routine and turning into your parents. She also hated living in Kenosha because this was where her father developed his Coke habit and almost destroyed his life. She let the tears flow down her face now that she was in the privacy of her own place. They did it again. Someone drew a crude cartoon figure of a female in a wheelchair trying to talk dirty to the copy boy and they wrote under it in blue Sharpie, “Megan Hyde”. Her skin was usually thicker than that. She’s experienced this kind of prejudice more times than she cared to admit and there was stuff not even her parents knew about that you keep for some shred of privacy. Amanda, the receptionist in the lobby, understood exactly what she was going through. As a young African-American woman in her early thirties she explained about how all the confidence about your inner self is thrown out the window as soon as you step outside in the city streets when someone calls you the “N” word. She let the tears blind her already impaired eyes. She only wanted to be normal at work, but the only girl she ate lunch with took a job at another company two weeks ago, so she was back to sitting by herself in the cafeteria. While the “cool” adult (said in the loosest meaning possible) clique wore kicky skirts from J. Crew and flexed their legs in unconsciously aware strides. They were huddled in even numbers of two or four. Talking about absolutely nothing while she ate her crust less tuna fish sandwich on seedless rye. “Who’d marry HER?” she heard one of the office bitches ask in a purposely raised whisper, just to see if they could get a whimper out of the office handicapped girl. She didn’t like to call Hunter from work because their relationship was NOT for their benefit and it was too special to be ruined by the catty cliques. Besides, Hunter was not a chatty person and rarely used the telephone. She liked talking to the customers on the office phone system because they didn’t know who they were talking to, to them the woman on the phone taking their catalog orders was resigned to a wheelchair. She was normally stronger than this and didn’t know if it was because she was losing her gumption or because she was disappointed that Hunter was obviously giving up his creative dreams? And for who-HER? This was starting to make her angry on top of being sad. She wiped her eyes and her glasses with a tissue before putting them back on.

“Shit!” Megan just remembered as the clock struck four-thirty.

Donna and Eric were coming over to see their apartment and have dinner with them tonight. How was she going to get through this evening?

Part 2


Megan did the only sensible thing after she straightened up what she could. She was in no effort to prove her independence. She called a family restaurant that offered home delivery for an extra ten dollars. Fine. She took a shower and changed into something clean and fresh. Looking in the mirror, she looked like the confident person everyone thought she was. Hunter was not home yet, when her parents arrived. Donna looked good with her stylish hat and her hair growing longer in the back, Eric was happy because his Wife was in remission and his kids were all right. His happiness was always dependant on the moods of others.

“This is a nice apartment,” Eric said

“Thanks, Dad.”

“Is Hunter still at work?” Donna smelled the flowers that she had on the windowsill.

“Yes, he should be home soon.”

The doorbell rang and since Eric was closer, he answered it. “Hello, Michelle’s catering.”

“Sorry, I didn’t have time to cook,” Megan wheeled herself closer so that she could pay the deliveryman.

Eric grabbed the food order. “That’s okay, lol-Megan. Where’s the kitchen?”

“Turn right, Dad.”

“Don’t be sorry about not cooking, Megan, sometimes takeout is your best friend.” Donna offered.

And although she loved her parents deeply at that moment she didn’t care.


Hunter came home the smell of the food making him remember that Eric and Donna were here. He threw his portfolio on the sofa and the boards he was working on fell out.

“Damn,”

“Hi, baby,” Megan wheeled herself in and picked up one of the white poster boards while Hunter was walking towards her, “You dill hole!” She threw it at him.

“Hey!”

“Mouthwash!” She wheeled herself to other board that was within reach, “Diapers!” She threw the other board at him. Megan might have been handicapped, but she had tremendous upper body strength when she got wound up.

“What’s going on?” Eric said

“I don’t know, Eric, I came home and she threw my poster boards at me!”

“What’s wrong, Megan?” asked Donna

“You are a complete jerk, Hunter!”

“Me? What did I do?”

Megan hated herself for the inevitable flow of tears. Of course, she didn’t mean it. Hunter wasn’t a jerk and she loved him to pieces. But didn’t he see what he was doing? Didn’t he see what he was becoming? Didn’t it matter to him?

“I’m going to bed, and YOU are sleeping on the sofa! Mom and Dad, I’m sorry that you drove all this way for nothing, but your son in law is IMPOSSIBLE!”

Megan didn’t care if it was rude, she turned around while she could still see and wheeled herself to her room and once she got inside she locked the door behind her.

“Megan,” Five minutes later and right on target, Hunter knocked on their bedroom door, “Please talk to me.”

“NO!”

“Why are you mad at me?”

“Hunter, just sleep on the sofa and leave me alone.”

He paused for a few seconds, “All-right,” then he paused again, “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Hunter.”

“Then how come you are making me sleep on the sofa?”

Hunter heard the sound of Megan’s chair get closer until the door was unlocked and slightly pushed open.

“Sit on my lap.”

“Are you sure, Megan?”

He sat on her lap and kissed her.

She heard his stomach growl. “Are you hungry?”

“Kinda.”

She kissed him once more, “Get up and wheel me to the kitchen, I’ll make you a sandwich.”

“Megan, can you tell me what had you upset earlier?”

“Hunter, if it’s all right with you, I’d rather not talk about it now.”

But she knew what she had to do.



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Last Update 9/27/2003