Sunday Stories features original fiction every weekend by 91原创 writers.
Bear
Written by Ryan Uytdewilligen
(continued from previous publication on Sunday, Feb. 2. Read last week鈥檚 installment here)
鈥淓xcuse me ma鈥檃m, but would you care for a cup of coffee?鈥� Frank inquired before pouring. 鈥淎nd yourself sir? Nice warm freshly made cup of Joe for you? Coffee, Miss?鈥�
Frank O鈥橬eil traversed the rickety aisles of the train, carting an even ricketier trolley with a hefty five gallon tin splashing around a piping hot batch of black brew. He had his own little system down pat by the team he reached the fourth row of seats; he鈥檇 sport a minuscule little Dixie cup and present the paper object with a smile warmer than the coffee itself.
Almost everyone agreed to a complimentary cup except for several children, a woman who had taken ill, and an elderly fellow who simply detested the beverage and insisted there should be Blue Ribbon tea.
Frank would do his best to steadily pour from a dented metallic carafe and pass the cups of coffee so that no detrimental drop ever had a chance of spilling. The next step was cream, which was poured at each passenger鈥檚 request from a small glass pitcher and needed constant refilling. Sugar came later, as it was Frank鈥檚 own notion that everything sweet should arrive at the very end.
So, trailing down the aisle, sometimes three rows behind and delaying sugar-takers first sips, came Ellie with a bowl and spoon. She lacked the etiquette and steady hand of her father, letting the sugar sift all over the floor鈥攕ometimes even laps. Precision was hindered even more so by the fact Ellie鈥檚 bear came along for the job with her, stuffed underneath the girl鈥檚 left arm.
Normally the coffee service would have been nearing the end of its first cycle at this point in the route. The gal responsible for the pouring had a more efficient method of her own, managing to make each cup with the right ingredients all in one go over the cart.
That method never dawned on Frank, as obvious as it probably should have been. The man was nervous, absolutely tickled, and evidently distracted, by the chance granted by the conductor to make up for false tickets; Frank wanted nothing more than to succeed and do a good job.
That鈥檚 why he even agreed to wear the regular gal鈥檚 pink and white apron; though it prompted some snickers, he was absolutely dedicated to following protocol.
Frank traversed, exchanging quick conversations with the other passengers鈥攆ew ranging more than just coffee talk. He鈥檇 sum up in one sentence on why he was the one performing the pouring; stating nothing more than the task fell to him because the regular was sick.
He heard a lot of mumbles about the use of Dixie cups and how trains used to use fine china before the country鈥檚 fortunes took a turn. Ellie received a few more energetic thank-you鈥檚 than her Pop, but words other than 鈥渟poon of sugar鈥� failed to leave her mouth.
鈥淚鈥檒l take six,鈥� demanded a rather round nine-year-old boy in burgundy suit jacket and blue dress shirt. Ellie figured the boy needed not a grain of sugar at all, but she didn鈥檛 dare say that, instead, fixating on his pronounced lips鈥攕eemingly stuck in a puckered state.
By the time her eyes moved to his pomade slicked hair, Ellie had forgotten the request entirely. 鈥淗ey,鈥� the boy snapped again, holding out his cup. 鈥淚 said six spoonfuls.鈥�
鈥淎re you sure you should be drinking that,鈥� Ellie said with concern. 鈥淒addy says if you drink coffee too young, it stunts your growth.鈥�
鈥淣ever mind your Dad, I said give me six.鈥� Ellie looked at the empty seats surrounding the boy, wondering exactly where his Mom and Dad were at the moment and it they鈥檇 have a comment or two to say about his cup of painfully sweet coffee. Her dad did give him the cup after all, so she figured the request was all right. Two spoonfuls in, the boy鈥檚 spitting feminine image, wearing the same loud colours and harboring just a bit more make-up, tromped over and snatched the cup away.
鈥淲hat do you think you鈥檙e doing, giving my son coffee? He鈥檚 nine.鈥�
鈥淏ut he wanted鈥︹�� Ellie trailed.
鈥淲ell my boy is certainly not like you, getting every little thing he wants in life,鈥� the mother snapped. 鈥淜eep moving.鈥�
Ellie gulped and carried on with her duties, trying to force a smile on her face by the time she arrived at the next seat. Bear did not arrive to the next row of sugar-takers with her, falling from the clutch of Ellie鈥檚 armpit to partially underneath a train seat.
She failed to notice her travel companion鈥檚 disappearance, and made it three rows down until beginning to ponder why her job seemed to feel easier.
The boy noticed bear鈥攆lat on his back against the ground鈥攚ithin seconds. While his mother slurped her sons coffee, wincing at the sweetness she could barely stand to ingest, the boy collected the stuffed animal and began to maneuver it around in the air as if it were talking a stroll all on its lonesome.
鈥淗ey, that鈥檚 mine,鈥� Ellie shouted, stomping back towards the boy.
鈥淣o he鈥檚 not,鈥� the boy insisted. 鈥淚 found him and the rules are finders keepers.鈥�
鈥淭hat鈥檚 not true. Give him back!鈥�
Ellie grabbed bear鈥檚 leg, only to find the boy wasn鈥檛 planning to let go of him without a fight. She knew she鈥檇 need both hands to pull off the rescue, so the girl placed the sugar bowl and spoon on an empty seat beside her, grabbing hold of exactly one arm and one leg.
鈥淕et your hands off my bear,鈥� the boy whined.
鈥淟et go! You鈥檒l break him,鈥� Ellie warned. What did break was the sugar bowl, which hadn鈥檛 any chance of surfing atop the slick train seats. The track began to take a turn, and sure enough, the spoon fell first鈥攆ollowed by a quick and very loud shatter of glass.
The boy was easily startled by the noise and embarrassed by the destruction, quickly letting go of bear and sending Ellie flying backwards a few steps. The girl stayed upright, but her arms swung bear in all directions, including the seats across from her where cups of hot coffee were sent flying.
Two passengers, a husband and wife sitting across causally minding their own business and reading books, found themselves covered in piping hot stains. They shot up at the exact same time, shouting at Ellie, both in anger and in pain.
鈥淲hat do you think you鈥檙e doing?鈥� barked the boy鈥檚 mother, readying to deliver a nasty monologue chastising Ellie. Her words were cut short when the glass of the broken sugar bowl found its way into her ankle.
At that point, Frank casually turned to survey the commotion, excitedly dropping the carafe in mid pour when he discovered his daughter was the centre of all the shouting. Coffee splashed into all directions, soaking feet that were innocently wagging and tapping on the other end of the car.
As Frank ran to pull Ellie away from the commotion, the train whistle gave an elongated toot; immediately, the cars began slowing down to stop at the upcoming station.
The change in speed naturally sent the entire coffee cart soaring down the aisle on its own. When Frank turned to wrap his fingers around the handle, the whole trolley mechanism had shot itself straight for doorway into the next train car.
It missed, smashing into the frame, tipping the five gallon tin, and casting a river of freshly brewed Joe over the outfits of anyone helplessly sitting in rows one to four.
As the conductor came galloping from one end of the train to the other, Frank let out a sigh and looked Ellie in the eye. It was if there gaze had held an hour long meeting, covering such topics and disappointment, forgiveness, fear, and even humor.
鈥淥ut,鈥� said the conductor.
鈥淵es,鈥� Frank replied, busy forming a smile and scratching his chest where the newspaper advert rested in his breast pocket. 鈥淚鈥檓 afraid we are out of coffee.鈥�
# # #
鈥淚鈥檓 sorry鈥擨鈥檓 sorry鈥擨鈥檓 sorry鈥擨鈥檓 sorry,鈥� Ellie squawked like a parrot obsessed with its own words.
鈥淚鈥檓 sorry,鈥� Frank rebutted. The duo had made it about one mile down a gravel road, and all their conversation had consisted of for the entire walk was a back and forth of those two words.
鈥淚t鈥檚 just, he took bear and I didn鈥檛 know what else to do,鈥� Ellie huffed.
鈥淚鈥檓 sorry I put you to work and I鈥檓 sorry we still haven鈥檛 gotten a thing inside your belly,鈥� Frank fretted.
鈥淭hat鈥檚 okay Daddy鈥擨 think I had me at least five spoons of sugar on the train.鈥�
Frank winced, stopping his stride to stoop down to Ellie鈥檚 level. 鈥淚 really am sorry things couldn鈥檛 be better for you,鈥� he said.
鈥淵ou keep saying that.鈥�
鈥淲ell I mean it. I鈥檓 sorry. But I tell you, when we get home, I鈥檓 going to look extra hard for a job. I鈥檒l read the classifieds in every paper printed in a thousand mile radius. I鈥檒l go back to digging that canal for Mr. Rolfstead, and I鈥檒l鈥斺��
鈥淕o home? What do you mean, go home?鈥�
鈥淲ell鈥� we鈥檙e going home muffin. We don鈥檛 got enough dough to get us anywhere but back to town.鈥�
鈥淲hat about the cows? We鈥檙e not going to the dairy anymore?鈥�
鈥淣o鈥� Ellie, I think you were right about the dairy. Someone else far closer than us got all the work they had. Next time though,鈥� Frank assured, 鈥渘ext time we鈥檒l be first.鈥�
Tears flickered on the edge of Ellie鈥檚 eyes; they were there only for a second, but a quick wipe with her sleeve made it seem as though they had never glistened there at all. She sniffled, never taking her attention away from her father.
鈥淚鈥檓 still game to try if you are.鈥�
鈥淭hey鈥檙e not letting us back on that train,鈥� said Frank, rising back up to full height to survey the dusty, flat, and evidently empty road ahead.
鈥淲e don鈥檛 need a train,鈥� Ellie insisted. 鈥淲e can hitch a ride.鈥�
鈥淓asier said than done. People don鈥檛 like giving out rides so much to other folks these days.鈥�
鈥淚t鈥檚 easier for ladies than it is men.鈥�
Frank stifled his laughter, finding comedy and sheer terror that his child just referred to herself as a lady. 鈥淲hat makes you say that?鈥�
鈥淚 saw it in a picture with Aunt Alice last Christmas鈥�It Happened One Night with Clark Gable. Did you see that one, Pop?鈥�
Frank kicked around a small clump of dirt, finding his mind becoming completely soothed by the sheer determination and positivity of his daughter.
鈥淵our aunt Alice took you to the picture show? How nice. That鈥檚 nice to hear. I didn鈥檛 know that,鈥� Frank mumbled slowly. 鈥淣o, I didn鈥檛 see that one. What happens?鈥�
鈥淐lark Gable and his gal needed a ride and she got them one with a system all her own,鈥� Ellie explained. It was then, both Frank and Ellie saw a cloud of dust, made only by a fast-travelling car, rise up in the distance. 鈥淲atch,鈥� she said, skipping to the side of the road.
Frank meandered, kicking his dirt clump into a weedy ditch and moving clear out of the car鈥檚 path. He looked up to find his six-year-old lifting her skirt up to knee length, sticking her roly poly little left leg out as far as it possible would go, and swiveling it around in the air鈥攖hough she lacked the stability to keep it outstretched for more than half-a-second.
As the car neared Ellie鈥檚 roadside display, Frank had to just about re-install his eyeballs as they had popped so far out of his head, their distance had to have been a record. He grabbed her arm, dragging her through midair, and putting a stop to the show before the driver got a glimpse.
鈥淐ome on,鈥� Frank grumbled.
鈥淗ey! That was our chance. What鈥檇 I do wrong?鈥� Ellie whined.
鈥淜eep your feet on the group and keep walking.鈥�
鈥淲here are we going?鈥�
鈥淭he dairy,鈥� Frank snapped. 鈥淎nything to keep your filthy mind occupied. And we鈥檒l be using my system to get there.鈥�
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To be continued鈥� The next installment of Bear by Ryan Uytdewilligen will be published by the 91原创 Advance Times, Sunday, Feb. 16.
