A piece of home alone fiction by Rich Paschall
The alarm went off at 6 am as usual. Instead of hitting the snooze bar, George turned off the alarm and got up. It was Wednesday, trash collection day in the small Florida town. He no longer had Ethel to push him out of bed so he had to muster the resolve to get up and take care of the chores. Jack, the faithful terrier, got up as well and was running around George’s feet as he tried to go through his morning routine. Terriers do not lack morning energy.
After he got dressed and made his way to the kitchen, he started the coffee. Ethel used to take care of this while George took care of the hyper active dog, but his wife of 40 years was gone now. George had to make his own coffee. George had to do all the chores. George had to eat his meals alone. This is not the retirement George had envisioned.
A little over two years earlier, George retired and moved from a big Midwestern city to a small town in a warm climate. This was the retirement George always wanted. He was no longer going to cut the grass. There was an association for that. He was not going to do major repairs because there was an association for that too. And he certainly was never going to shovel snow again. Before he moved south, he sold his snow blower, gave away his shovels and winter coats and vowed never to return north in the winter, if at all.
As the coffee was brewing, George set down a fresh bowl of water for a disinterested terrier. Then he went to the kitchen door that led into the garage. As he started down the two steps to garage level, he reached for the button that opened the garage door. At that Jack came racing out the kitchen door and when the garage door was open just enough, he ran under it and onto the front lawn. There he ran around in a circle for a couple of minutes before looking to see what George was doing.
George was busy dragging the plastic trash can down the driveway to the street where he parked it right next to his old-fashioned mail box. After that he walked back to get the recycle bins. One bin held old newspapers and magazines and the other had some cans and bottles. He put one on top of the other and then maneuvered them on to a two-wheel “hand truck.” They were too low and too heavy for George to drag down the drive way. When this task was complete, George went back inside to get his American flag, which he promptly took down to the post that held his mail box. On the side of the post he had affixed a flag pole holder so his flag could be seen as he came down the street. George would never admit that it was a reminder of where his driveway began so he could find it easily when he returned from a drive, but that is why it was there.
“Come on, Jack,” George called and the dog raced half way to George and stopped. It was a game and Jack expected George to play. George was well aware of this game, every time George would move, the dog would race around in a circle and stop. There he would wait for George to make another move and the race was on again. George was too old for the game today and went into the garage and headed toward the kitchen door. Jack watched carefully from the driveway. When George hit the button to close the garage door, Jack raced inside.
On their return to the pale yellow kitchen, George put down a bowl of food for Jack. Then he fixed some toast and took that, a cup of coffee and a newspaper he collected from the front porch and went to sit on the screened-in patio. Jack came and laid down at his feet. George liked reading the local news each morning. Everything about small town America seemed exciting to him. He read about civic improvements, about events at the library and about meetings at the town hall. He read about the plans for the upcoming year and even the New Year’s party at a local hall. George survived Christmas on his own and guessed he would not even be up at midnight on New Year’s Eve. Without dear Ethel, he had no desire to stay up late. While ringing in the New Year at a party might help bring back fond memories, they would also recall his dear wife who was gone too soon. He was not sure he could bear that.
When the news had been devoured, George got up slowly and took his plate and coffee cup to the kitchen sink and placed them there. He looked all around the room and could not decide on another thing to do so he thought he would go lay down awhile. It was 10 am. At that moment, the phone rang.
“Hello,” George said with a hint of surprise that anyone would call him.
“Hello George,” Ethel said softly.
Soon after George and Ethel moved to Florida, Ethel’s father had passed away. He left her the big family house in rural Iowa. It was the sort of house Ethel always wanted. It had a big front porch where she could rock away the summer hours in her own rocking chair and a nice fireplace where she could get warm and read good books all winter. George had no idea this is what Ethel had wanted for years, just as she had no idea he would take them to Florida on his retirement. When she got the big Iowa house she announced to George she was moving there without him, and soon thereafter she was gone along with virtually every personal effect she could take.
Once every few months she called to see if George was OK, nothing more.
“Please come home, Ethel,” George said with a heavy dose of sadness in his voice.
“I am home,” she said and quietly hung up the phone.
Categories: #Writing, Fiction, Holidays, Relationships, Rich Paschall
Reblogged this on Sunday Night Blog and commented:
One of my favorites from a little over a year ago.
Not only an enjoyable read, but the font style and size–everything about the way the story was presented visually–made it easy to read. Just a few more commas are needed. This would be a good contribution to a flash fiction journal.
I am glad you liked it. Things tend to ramble on in my head, but may need a few more commas on paper.
Reblogged this on Notes from "A Place to Live Forever" and commented:
Home Alone, not what you expect and exactly what you expect. I am sharing because this is so smoothly written that the character and actions are easily envisioned. Oy if I could only write this well.
Thanks, I am glad you enjoyed it and thanks for the reblog.
Reblogged this on jocsnotebook.
I really enjoyed this story.
I think perhaps I caught a typo?
“When the news had been devoured, Jack got up slowly and took his plate and coffee cup to the kitchen sink and placed them there. He looked all around the room and could not decide on another thing to do so he thought he would go lay down awhile. It was 10 am. At that moment, the phone rang.
“Hello,” Jack said with a hint of surprise that anyone would call him.”
Am I mistaken, or isn’t Jack the dog? Did I miss something?
Otherwise, great story. Thanks for sharing!
OMG, for all the times I read this and all the reads by others, you are the first to notice. Thanks for commenting.
Now, if only I could do this with my own work!
Glad to be of help. 🙂
Reblogged this on Dog Bones From Our Frynds and commented:
Love the story, plus love those rockers.
Thanks. The rockers are Marilyn’s. I just borrowed them a while.
Aww. Sad story! Nice style though, and a good twist at the end, thanks for sharing! More short stories of a dark and sinister kind at http://shoalbehaviour.wordpress.com/category/short-stories/ which you might like…
Thanks, I am glad if you liked it Maybe some short story lovers will head your way.
I liked the surprise ending -you evoked well ingrained stereotypes and then twisted it. Cool!
Thanks. I am glad you enjoyed it.
Reblogged this on Cristian Mihai.
Well Rich, got an email from Garry telling me I should read Marilyn’s guest’s post and read it slowly. I assumed he meant it would be complicated, and he wanted to be sure I truly understood it. Complicated it was…..greatly so…but not in the way I originally thought Garry had meant. I am still conjuring up answers to a very easy to read, short post! Aside from the normal thoughts , I just came up with another. I suppose that Ethel must have been extremely happy with her life change, whereas obviously George was not in the least bit. Besides that, he had forced a normally joyful, loving dog to suffer along with him. So, easy enough, George could have just moved to Ethel………the snow, grass, the repairs could have been “farmed out”….if they had enough money to subsidize two separate living places, that should not have been a problem. And the two of them along with a then once again gleefully happy Terrier, would be able to appreciate what life had to offer.
Curiously, my solution to what seemed to be a very simple and uncomplicated life problem made me instantly feel better, (why it mattered, I am not sure…was just a little story). As I contentedly got ready to go back to work doing my own writing, it hit me like an avalanche on the tropical isle of Bimini! What if Ethel had been waiting for just such a situation for years, and she really didn’t WANT to live out her life out with George?
Going to sign up to follow your blog, now, Rich.
I bet I don’t quit thinking about this for days! KEITH
Thanks, Keith, for the nice words. I think some of the seemingly simple things in life may be the most complicated.
Wow!! I read this very, very slowly. You are gifted, Rich!! I did not expect the ending. I’m not sure of what to feel for George or Ethel. THAT’S excellent writing!!
Will one of them eventually give in and move? I wonder.
I wonder too!
I like the unexpected Ethel…..