Mr. Cleary’s Coffee

Make the coffee.

Anna rolled out of bed. She had known since last night that it was her who would have to make mr. Cleary his morning coffee that day. Over sleeping was simply not an option . She didnt want to get up, but she wanted to make the coffee.

Make the coffee.

the floor was cold and forbidding as she shuffled to the kitchen, holding her housecoat tightly across her body. no one else was awake yet, but in about fifteen minutes life would be breathed back into the house. years living in the cleary household had taught anna that. nothing but exact precision and punctuality was valued. no morals, virtues, or conscience belonged to any of the tenants. it was a sick, cold, and wildly pretentious household. Anna took care never to call this building the home of anyone, as the word utterly misinterpreted the place in actuality.

Make the coffee. 

The coffee beans had to be ground. The house was big enough for the noise to not wake anyone. Anna's ears were good, but it wasn't natural, and the quality did dot portain to any of the other tannants. Anna could not help but smile when she thought about how simple the task was, yet how necessary. All she had to do was boil the water, grind the coffee, let the coffee grounds steep for a minute, and then strain them. nothing hard. not a difficult feat, yet she could feel accomplished after doing it.

Make the coffee.

she poured the water into the kettle and placed it on the stove to heat. she waited until the kettle began to scream. she pulled it off the stove on time to avoid the noise, and poured it carefully on top of the coffee grinds. they swirled and dipped, and the steem hit anna in the face. a familiar, almost tender blow. like an old friends teasing. it hurt, but only a little. to be sure, shew could have stepped out of the way. she could have kept her face away from the coffee pot rim, but instead she dipped her head closer, feeling the heat against her face. she seemed to like it.

Make the coffee.

footsteps began. Anna knew they belonged to missBlache, as she was an early riser. Miss Blanche was only twenty three, and always drank tea. Anna reached up to the shelf and pulled a dainty tea cup and saucer. Miss blanche liked the flower ones, Anna had noticed, so she took the cup with the tiny rose buds around the rim. she took out the tea, and prepared to make it when the lady came down.

Make the coffee.

 Miss Blanche made her apearance looking fresh and young, as any good twnety three year old governess should. her dress was dark green with timy red roses scattered across the boddes, and her thick hair was piled up in a comely heap. Miss Blanche was always Anna’s favourite, for reasons unknown to her. perhaps it was the love we all have for beautiful things; perhaps anna loved miss Blanche the way a small child loves a womans brooch. none the less, Anna was aware of the differnce between the treatment she was given from miss blanch and the that of the cleary family. Miss Blanche had always smiled at Anna, and even alowed Anna to be her confidant on sertain ocassions. miss Blanche smiled at Anna, and the expected ‘goodmornings’ wheer exchanged. Miss Blanche sat at the kitchen table and Anna prepared her tea. miss Blanche accepted the tea with a smile, and then returned to her room to study her books.

Make the coffee.

Anna was aware that Mr. cleary had been in bed longer then usual, and spent several minutes listening for him, wondering why, of all days, he would stay in bed long today. finally the groaning and squeeking of the wheelchair allerted her that he was awake, and would want his coffee. it was almost time. she heard him squeek into the dining room and waited for his command.

“what does a man have to do to get a coffee in his own home anyways?” was the loud cracked questions clumsily prounsounsed through the meandering lips of mr. cleary, those lips where given to wander the mans vocabulary before ariving at his point. they let words fly with no porpose both in solitude and company. the man, whose lips issued the command, was himself an abusive and demanding man whose tallents included particularly potent insults and the ability to constantly smoke a cigar.

Anna poured the brown liquid into tghe mug, stirred in the cream and white crystals, and carried it into the didning room. her hands shook, but not so mucgh that mr. Cleary would notice; his eyes where not as keen as they could be, aside the fact that he cared little for the feelings of Anna in particular, but everyone els as well.

“took you long enough.” Anna placed the bug in the mans hands without a word. he eyed her over, hoping for some kind of response. none. he tried again to provoke her.

“remind me again why we keep you? you are useless to us. actualy“ he licked his lips “youre not really usefull to anyone in the world.” Anna wouldnt have replied if she could. As it was, however, a response was imposible. Mr. Cleary didnt understand sign language.

Anna turned and walked out of the rooma dn got to work. she poured the crystals into the sugar bowl and whiped her finger prints off the bottle before hurling it out the kitchen window. there. done.

the soudns coming from the dining room where terrible to hear, but Anna had spent her life ignoring Mr. Cleary, and she could do it now. she waited until the struggle with the arsenic ended, then she ran upstairs in a faned frenzy to miss Blanche in order pull the lady by the arm into the didning room. thus ended the morning tranquility.