Fiction Friday: Adam’s Toy Box

This Week’s Theme: Write about an auction. “I think I am pregnant,” my wife said as she watched the scenery pass by the passenger window. Her statement came from nowhere and it made little sense, all things considered. I didn’t respond. “We need to stop. Now. Here. The auction.” She was adamant, almost panicked.”The auction? Seriously?” Her silence pierced a sense of urgency through me. I complied without making another sound. We entered the building surrounded by countless objects. Marilyn was transfixed in a stark stare. She moved as if she were walking in her sleep. I trailed a few steps behind in disbelief. There was a large, wooden toy box sitting among the antiques. Marilyn stopped in front of the chest and rested for a moment. She moved her hands across the oddly crafted item, delicately touching the red letters; ADAM. “That’s Adam’s toy box,” a voice announced from behind. “It’s been here for many years.” What would we do with an over-sized toy box? Worse yet, why would an infertile woman want such a reminder? Marilyn looked at me with a start, “I want it.” Maybe shock prevented me from arguing. Maybe it was something else. I tried to open the lid but the box was locked. “What’s inside?” I asked, addressing the attendant. “Many things. Many wonderful things.” His response was directed at my wife and he began to walk away as he made the statement. The auction was under way in no time. Oddly enough, the first item for sale was the toy box. The auctioneer nodded in our direction and the room full of people was suddenly silenced. “The first item up for bid is Adam’s toy box. We’ll start the bidding at five dollars.” My wife nodded and I became aware that every eye in the room was on us. No one placed another bid. No one moved. I don’t think that anyone even blinked but each individual stood as we walked out of the room the way a congregation stands for a bride and groom. Apparently, my wife bought herself a huge antique toy box. “Marilyn! How are we going to get that thing home? I don’t know the first thing about refinishing antiques or how to get rid of the paint.” She turned toward me slowly to fix me with gaping eyes. Her hands rested on a small paunch in her belly. Marilyn’s shallow breaths carried the words, “It’s Adam’s toy box. He needs it. He’s been waiting.”
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