𝐌𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄'𝐒 𝐅𝐀𝐑𝐌 . bob dylan

𝑽𝑰𝑰.

JANUARY 1, 1966

"Ugh," Maggie grumbled, sweeping a hand along her face. Her bare arms and legs rubbed against the cold sheets, and her tangled hair pressed against the many heavy blankets. Someone had helped her to bed. Magda knew that she would stay in bed all day if she didn't get up now, so she flung her legs over the bed and stood up. After brushing her teeth, she slipped on blue jeans and a sweater, stepping out into the living room. Bobby was standing in the kitchen, almost waiting for her to get up.

"Well, good morning, Mag," Bob said, smiling at her. She tried to smile at him, but fell exasperatedly on the couch, rubbing her eyes. Her head hurt so bad and the space behind her eyes was pounding,

Bobby turned on the water kettle, moseying over to her on the couch. Instantly, she leaned against him, resting her heavy head. He smiled down at her, wrapping his arms around her tightly. He was warm, smelling like a day outside–when it's just hardly hot and you can spend the day climbing trees and getting your blue jeans dirty. He smelled like her little backyard that she'd had for a very short time of her childhood.

"Your head hurt?" Bobby asked, pushing her messy hair away from her face. She picked her head up for a moment, nodded, and rested it right back down. "You drank quite a bit. You'll be alright, babe."

She stayed silent, and when she wouldn't let go of him, he patted her back a few times and stood up to go turn off the whistling kettle. She grumbled again and leaned her head back. Bobby turned on the radio, they were playing The Beatles, but he didn't change the channel.

She got up, swinging her legs over the piano bench. She knew little, and began to play The Entertainer, the song from western movies. Bobby, setting a mug of steaming tea on the top of the piano, leaned against it. He smiled at her, for she looked very concentrated about this.

When she was done, he handed her three aspirins, and kissed the top of her head. "Is everything alright after yesterday?" Maggie asked, looking up at him.

"Of course, what do you mean?"

"I remember you were upset." Maggie looked down at the black and white keys as she pressed down on them, slowly playing a nursery rhyme.

"I'm alright now, you knew that yesterday," Bob said, trying to smile at her. He did, in fact, have odd thoughts yesterday, but he had been assured by Magda, whether she was blasted drunk or not.

"Well, I was intoxicated yesterday, too." Magda was still looking down at her hands. "So, if anything really did bother you–which I doubt it did because nothing ever seems to–I want you to know that it shouldn't."

"Nothing bothered me, you just surprise me sometimes," Bobby shrugged. Magda finished her little song, stood up, and leaned against him once again. He smiled down at his girl, racking his brain for how it was possible for him to be envious against other men Magda spoke with.

How juvenile! She proclaimed her love for him constantly and leaned against him when her head was throbbing and asked him how he truly felt! He loved her just as much as she loved him, and he was partially foolish to think, even for a short moment, that he was not the man Magda would want or that the words he had to say were not the words Magda wanted to hear.