these sweet nightmares

chapter 16: short-lived bliss

It happened on ordinary day.

Upon waking to a sun shining through the glass windowpane, I performed the daily routine of washing my face, brushing my teeth with a bristle toothbrush, and combing my unruly bedhead hair. A somewhat dreary monotonous chore to most was actually a fun activity since Mrs. Brown had something in mind for me.

After which, I came running downstairs and awaited the special morning surprise, a trick Mrs. Brown would do to keep me guessing what kind of meal she was cooking up every day. Astonishingly, I could never come up with the correct answer.

As soon as I found my place at the breakfast table near Mr. Brown, I pretended to be disinterested as Mrs. Brown came round my side. “Let me see…” I thought carefully. “Could it be…angel cake?”

“Nope!” she returned, humming to herself.

I tried again––and failed.

“Blueberry muffins!” she said when I incorrectly inputted “strawberry scones”. “Freshly baked, too.” She slid a piece onto my plate which was already full with eggs and sausages.

“Yum!” I said as I bit into the sweet confection. Under the table, Fido whined for a piece, but I knew artificial additives found in pastries were dangerous to dogs so I gave him a slice of sausage instead. He barked in appreciation.

“I say, Frances, this might be the best you’ve done in a month,” Mr. Brown commented as he ate one.

“A month?” Mrs. Brown repeated, raising her eyebrows.

“The best one you’ve ever done,” Mr. Brown quickly revised, and we laughed together.

During breakfast, Mr. Brown tended to commence into sudden philosophical matter that could be invoked by anything of any kind. Once, when I refused to eat a certain broccoli, Mr. Brown lightly infused his wisdom in the irony of a world full in abundance. “As of this moment, there is a boy about you age, scraping whatever he can find in the rubbish of trash cans. Do you not find it a tad bit wasteful to not finish what has been given to you, free of charge?” he had said.

Now, Mr. Brown was speaking of the corruption of dirty factories and facilities in the city. We all listened keenly and nodded when it was appropriate for it. Fascinating how such a man of his working class could gain so much from personal experience. I, too, had a see in what horror truly went on behind those concrete buildings.

“Dear, are you looking in the classifieds again?” Mrs. Brown asked of her husband when he finished his oral condemnation of the greedy.

“Aye,” he replied, folding the newspaper in a two-fold. “Two weeks is too long, Frances. The arrears must be paid in full soon.”

Once finished with our food, Mr. Brown left to find some work, feeling that “this was the day” as he placed it with a good cheer. He was an optimist, and I admired that about him. It was rare to find a person with a natural sense of enlightenment. We waved him good-bye as he went away.

Mrs. Brown had some errands to be done and asked me if I would like to come along with her.

“Why, yes!” I said without hesitation.

“Right, then! Let’s get ready.” Mrs. Brown donned on her bonnet and coat, instructing me that I, too, should come dressed for outside. When I asked of her of where we were going, she replied by handing me a list of groceries to be bought and distributed amongst the residence of the neighborhood.

“The poor dears,” Mrs. Brown said of the elderly and the poor. “They can’t get where they want to nowadays, with what all the rheumatism and arthritis and whatnot they complain of. That’s why I pick up some fresh produce every week or so. It’s a very good deed to do for others.”