Not A Morning Person

Fred could tell it was going to be just one of those days.

He’d been having the most pleasant of dreams before being awakened by the annoying neighbour two doors down. Sure, he could understand that some people had to get up early in the morning to work, but that didn’t make hearing him at 4:35 a.m. every single morning feel any better. Why did the man have to have such a noisy car? Today marked just over three months of listening to his car make a noisy racket day after day. Fred had kept his mouth shut every day, but today was the day he was going to do something about it. He was half tempted to stick his head outside the door and scream at him, and Fred actually stalked toward the door intent on doing just that before deciding against it and turning away in a huff. Instead, he decided to passively aggressively watch the clock to see how long it would take the inconsiderate wrench to finally leave.

Three minutes, so far.

“Morning, Fred.” Rosie strolled down the stairs, and after blowing a kiss in his general direction, she headed toward the coffeemaker.

He tried to keep his expression neutral, but guessed she saw the aggravation on his face. “Trust me, you don’t want me to kiss you right now. I have the worst morning breath today, and no offense, darling, but yours won’t exactly be a picnic, either.”

That’s never stopped you before, he thought spitefully, but instead of giving voice to those words he just blinked and turned back to the clock. Five minutes, already? Five minutes of listening to that blasted beater of a car do its best to spring to life yet again.

Fred had heard on the news a day or so ago that they were in for a cold snap soon. One of those days that stupid thing would die. When that day comes, finally, he’ll laugh. Maybe he will go outside and celebrate, and let the neighbours wonder why he was so happy.

For now, though, he had to be content to wait.

Rosie was at the stove, cracking eggs into a warm pan. Comforting, homey smells soon filled the kitchen, and Fred breathed them in. They almost drowned out the aggravating sound of the car still warming up. He glanced at the clock. Ten minutes of this jalopy revving its engine, waking up the entire neighbourhood.

 Ridiculous. One of these days someone would have to tell him off. Fred would love to tell him to get a better job so he could afford a car newer than 20 years old, you know, one that actually could start in the morning. He walked toward the door again, before changing his mind and going back to the kitchen. If this went on much longer, he’d have to do something.

Rosie caught his eye. “Why don’t we eat our breakfast on the back porch this morning?”

Sometimes she seemed to be able to read his mind. He gave her a smile and watched as she loaded their breakfast things onto a tray. As he followed her out the door, he heard the neighbour’s car finally, finally, pull away. It had been just over 12 minutes. Fred would love to call bylaw to complain about the man, but of course he wouldn’t. Still, he was a little surprised no one else had.

He plopped himself on the seat across from hers. Rosie had wanted this little patio set for a while – a bistro set she called it, since it was just a small table and two chairs – but he hadn’t seen the sense in it. But when she’d bought it a few years ago in a summer clearance sale, he hadn’t said anything about it. It was those little things that made her happy, so who was he to say anything if it made her smile?

Rosie sipped at her coffee. It would have been nice if she had offered to make him a coffee, too. Sure, he had never liked the stuff, but she hadn’t even offered. It was actually rather inconsiderate, he thought. Is this what it is like in a long term relationship: thinking just about yourself and taking the other for granted? He didn’t do that… did he?

 The coffee’s rich smell drifted across to him and he gritted his teeth.  He should just walk away from her right now, and let her wonder why he was so upset. Sure, she knew him well enough, but she didn’t know every little thing.

She took a bite out of her eggs and sighed happily. It almost made him smile to watch her, she was such a foodie. It was only then he looked down at his breakfast.  Not eggs, and definitely lackluster. She had the nerve to sit across from him, eating her breakfast while he ate this – what even was this? Some sort of dry cereal that smelled bad. He sampled it. It tasted worse than its smell. Fred couldn’t take it anymore and pushed it away from him.

“I’m sorry, Fred, but remember, due to your condition you’ve got a special diet now.” Rosie’s face twisted briefly into a frown. “I guess that’s what happens when we get older. We’ve got to at least follow the rules for one meal a day.”

Sure, sure, Fred thought to himself, but you’re also getting older, and here you are, eating your eggs and drinking your coffee, filled to the brim with the full-fat cream and 3 tablespoons of sugar, and I have to eat this garbage? No thanks, I’d rather starve. He didn’t say it, though, just allowed himself a small, indignant huff from the back of his throat, then sat back in his chair and closed his eyes, trying to shut out the sight of her munching away contentedly on her own breakfast.

Rosie was chatting away, probably to fill the void since he wasn’t saying anything. “Carol and Sarah said they’d be stopping by.”

Despite his determination to give her the silent treatment, he opened one tired, bleary eye. He knew Rosie’s friends all too well. Carol was the one who ignored him, despite him being perfectly cordial to her. He knew she thought she was better than everyone else, and it aggravated him that Rosie didn’t see that. Carol would prance inside their home uninvited, without bothering to take off her shoes. Her favourites were a gaudy pair of beige heels, covered with stud embellishments all over, and she seemed to have a nervous habit of tapping her heel on her hardwood floor every time she waited for someone else to speak. Tap tap tap tap tap tap tap. It drove him crazy listening to it, and rather than ask her to stop, he’d just leave the room.

As much as he hated Carol, Sarah was even worse.

Rosie kindly referred to her as “touchy-feely”, but Fred privately called her a pervert. As soon as Rosie would leave the room for one reason or another, Sarah would practically pounce on him.

Fred never talked to Rosie about Carol, or even Sarah. They’d been high school friends and had known each other longer than she’d known him, so he always felt it wasn’t his place.

As if on cue, the doorbell rang. “Oh, my, Sarah’s early! C’mon darling, let’s go.”

For one brief moment of insanity, Fred felt like running upstairs, but he knew it would do little good. Sarah would find a way to seek him out. He reluctantly trailed behind Rosie. Maybe now was the time. He wanted to tell Rosie that Sarah was a dreadful person and that she made him uncomfortable in his own skin whenever she was around. He’d love to tell Sarah a few things, too. He’d start by telling her about how betraying her best friend showed she was the worst kind of person: disloyal and untrustworthy. Maybe he should add in that her lips were painted too red for her face and the fact that she had more whiskers than he did wasn’t exactly appealing.

Rosie and Sarah greeted each other while Fred hung back, thinking of all of the things he wanted to say, but didn’t. As soon as Rosie left the two of them together in the hallway, Sarah swooped in. Her arms were deceptively strong and she caught him off-guard when she grabbed him.

He wanted to tell her to back off. He wanted to tell her to stop, that he had the right to say no. He wanted to yell for Rosie.

Fred didn’t do any of those things. Instead, he pathetically tried to wriggle free, which did not a bit of a good because Sarah planted a kiss right on his mouth.

“Stay, Fred and keep me company,” Sarah purred.

Even if he wanted to, Fred couldn’t surrender to her caresses. It wouldn’t be fair to Rosie. Sure, some of the magic was gone from their relationship, but that was to be expected after spending so many years together.

Sarah was still holding on to him – how long could it possibly take Rosie to hang up a hat? – as Fred heard the car before he saw it, that useless beater of a thing was already coming back home. The neighbour wasn’t due for another few hours. What happened, had he finally lost his job? Curiosity won out, and Fred quickly slipped out of Sarah’s grip, who was still standing like an idiot in the doorway, and ignoring Rosie’s calls for him, he ran out to the sidewalk.

The neighbour was getting out of his car with a paper bag in his hands. Fred’s eyes weren’t as good as they used to be, and he squinted to get a better look.

Takeout breakfast. Today must have been the moron’s day off, and he’d spent 12 minutes revving his engine, waking up the entire neighbourhood, to go out and get breakfast?

Fred felt something snap inside of himself, and he darted toward his neighbour, who still hadn’t noticed he was outside. Fred could speak, but this time he chose action, and with a great leap and ferocious bark he bared his teeth and latched on to his neighbour’s ankle.