What's The Worst... Chapter 01

“Ira, breakfast’s ready!” she still savoured his name on her tongue, it still sounded exotic, even after all these years.

Stepping carefully backward from the foot of the stairs, Dorothy turned and wandered back into the kitchen. The smell of bacon, eggs and coffee would permeate the entire house within the next few minutes, even with the window open.

Despite the beautiful morning outside she was always reluctant to have the back door open, whenever Ira suggested such a thing she blamed cats, foxes or spiders, depending on the time of day and her particular inclination at that moment. He would just shrug and let it go, never pressing the point, never questioning her reason, but they both knew that it wasn’t the furry or multi-legged wildlife that kept the door shut and locked. Just like they both knew that talking about it wouldn’t make a blind bit of difference.

The third stair down creaked, Dorothy realised she must have been stood, just staring at the door. She looked around, down at the table, the coffee cup was still steaming, the food looked fine and the bits in the orange juice still hadn’t settled out, ‘Can’t have been that long then...’

The next creaking stair went, he was in the hall now, “Ira, do you want red or brown sauce?”

“Red’s good!”, he sounded pretty chipper today, it’d be a good day to go into town.

She opened the kitchen door, he was there, “Smell’s good! How long ya been up?”

She paused ever so slightly before answering... “Oooohhh...” He nodded slowly, sagely, “...that long eh?”

She smiled, kissed him on the cheek, “Come on, sit down, it’ll be gettin’ cold”

The sauces were in the cupboard to the left of the sink, the red was nearly empty, enough for them both to have breakfast, but it’d need to be added to the little list by the side of the drainer. Dorothy passed the bottle to Ira, he was always better with the shaking and his little flick made sure that the sauce was in the neck when the lid came off, a little easier for pouring, or scrapping out with a knife.

“Ira” Dorothy sat down, “Ira, I was thinking of taking the bus this morning, you know, while the sun’s shining?”, the slight raise in pitch lifting the question from the statement.

“This bacon’s real good...” his accent didn’t really stand out these days, but then it had never been overly strong, not like Brooklyn.

“Ira, I was thinking of...” “Yeah, sounds like a fine idea, what with the sun bein' out.”

Dorothy looked down at her plate, he’d never looked up from his, he hadn’t seen the intense caring and concern in her face.

“Yeah, sounds like a fine idea, but I might stay here, catch up on stuff?”

“Of course, I wasn’t planning on being long, just a couple of hours.”

“I saw the paper, it’ll need a good stiff readin’” with that he looked up, a grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye, Dorothy smiled back, it was indeed a beautiful morning.