Part 1: The Strangeness of Fredrick Street - Chapter Four

In Chapter Four, we meet Albert and Betty. Albert’s having trouble sleeping - the dream he keeps having, is it a dream at all?

4

Albert Molineaux slept like a baby usually. He would sleep a dreamless sleep and always woke to face the day with a clear head on his shoulders and a spring in his step. This morning, however, a Wednesday (or Hump Day as the youth of today called it, a term he found uncouth and harsh on the ears besides) he felt a touch more lethargic than he ought to. Maybe he'd had a bad dream or perhaps it was that extra glass of whiskey he'd afforded himself last night taking its toll. In fact, the more he thought about it he realised it couldn't have been whisky on the account that he never touched a drop. Perhaps it was because he'd cut himself a slice of Edam at twenty past the midnight hour and fell asleep in front of the TV. Yes, that'll be it, he thought, as he ground the coffee beans into the machine. His mind raced with more potential reasons why he wasn't his usual sprightly self just as Betty walked into the kitchen, lighting up the room and pushing all the worrisome thoughts aside, as she always did. Albert smiled at his wife as she practically glided over to him and gave him a gentle kiss on the cheek and a gentle squeeze on the arm. She had always held such grace, which was why for the first 2 or 3 years of their courting he did nothing but question why she had deigned to fall in love with such an uptight rogue like him. When he asked her one day, she just laughed and said, "Somebody's got to do the devil's work, it may as well be me. Besides, it's not so bad." Albert laughed when she said that, he would ask her again every so often just to hear the response. Watching as she skipped around the kitchen, making herself a pot of coffee, he found her to look just as young as she did when they first met and he couldn't help but smile.

"Did you get the paper yet?" she asked.

"It's just there on the counter. Throw me out the sports pages and you can take the rest love."

"You don't want to keep up with what's going on in the world?"

Albert shrugged. "I don't like finding out about problems I can't fix. Besides, if it's need to know then I'm sure you'll tell me, won't you?"

Betty raised an eyebrow. "Sure I will. But what are you going to do when I'm not here to tell you?"

Albert thought for a moment before replying. "Well Betty, I guess when you do go, I'm just going to be a guy who knows a whole lot of nothing other than what's in front of him."

Laughing Betty hit him with the paper and passed him out the sports pages. Albert poured the freshly made coffee, the smell filling the room and unfolded the sports pages out in front of him. "Besides Betty, you're not the only one who has a deal with the devil. I've got that pact I made when we first started seeing so you aren't going anywhere less the devil's not a man true to his word."

"I knew you'd done some sort of black magic to keep me around this long." She smiled and took his hand. "You alright this morning?"

Albert plastered a reassuring smile on his face (all his own teeth despite being 70) and squeezed his wife's hand. "I'm good like a kid on Christmas morning. What makes you ask?"

Betty's brow wrinkled in concern, seeing right through the smile. "You were tossing in your sleep last night, muttering away to yourself."

Albert's smile faltered. This was perhaps why he didn't feel his usual self this morning. And, thinking on it now, he was restless during the night. He must have been in the grips of a nightmare but he couldn't think now what it was that'd shaken him up so bad. Something about a circular room and, yes, a few of the neighbours had been there too. But no Betty. There was no Betty in sight. 

"Albert? Are you OK?"

Bringing his mind back to the present, he squeezed Betty's shoulder and busied himself about the kitchen. "I'm fine, bad dream is all. And dare I say it was only bad because you weren't in it Betty Boo."

Unconvinced Betty rested a hand on Albert's chest, stopping from the kitchen tidying frenzy he was in the grips of, something he knew (and Betty knew) he only did when we was worried or stressed about something. 

"Albert Molineaux? Is there something you're not telling me? Cos you know I'll find out. It's a gift I have."

"One woman's gift is one man's curse," said Albert. 

"Less of the poetics. You got anything on that old mind of yours?" said Betty. 

Albert, doing his best to push the topic aside, took her hand off his chest and kissed it. "Betty, I can assure you there's nothing on this old mind but thoughts of you, a want to read the sports and the desire for a good cup of coffee and a plate of toast. I had a bad dream and it's gone now. If it happens again, you can lay me down on that couch there in the living room and go all manners of Freud on me. But believe me when I say I'm absolutely fine."

He placed Betty's hand back in her lap and took two slices of bread out of the packet and into the toaster. Well OK. But maybe you should speak to Dr. Fleming across the street if your restless nights keep up. I don't want to lose you before I'm ready." 

Albert laughed. Betty had one wicked sense of humour; she'd have done just fine on the gallows. "OK Betty. But I'm sure he doesn't want the worries of a couple of white haired fools who think anything out of the norm means Death's come a-knocking. I'm fine. Just shouldn't eat cheese so much before bed and watch so much TV." The toast popped. Albert took out the butter knife and started buttering, sliding the plate over to Betty. 

"Now drop this Florence Nightingale talk and have a slice of special Molineaux toast."

Taking the plate, Betty inspected the toast and looked up at Albert. "Albert?"

"Yes?"

"You afraid you're going to run out of butter or something?"

"I miss a bit?"

"More than a bit. Give me that butter knife. I'll show you how it's done."

And taking the knife out of Albert's hand, Betty carved out a chunk of the butter and started slavering it over the slice of toast. Watching her Albert couldn't help but think back to every breakfast they'd ever shared and smile. The thing he feared most was that she'd be the first one God would pick to join him upstairs. Not that he'd ever been a Godly man, but it was a nicer way to frame it than the alternative. 

Finishing her fix-up job, Betty slid the plate back, taking a slice for herself. 

"There, that's a proper piece of toast. Not a bit of the surface untouched."

Albert took a slice and bit into it, crumbs falling onto the counter. "Betty, I don't know how I ever took breakfast without you, do you know that?"

"Honey, I don't know how you did anything without me. Now go upstairs and look out your clothes for tonight."

Taking another slice, Albert raised an inquisitive eyebrow at Betty. "What's tonight?"

Rolling her eyes, Betty stood and took the plate to the sink and started on the dishes. "The BBQ Sarah's throwing for the street."

Albert nodded. "Sure, that's right. We got to stay long?"

Betty laughed. "Now Albert, be kind. It's a nice thing she's doing. But no, we don't. That's the great thing about growing old. We've got an automatic get out of jail free card."

Albert smiled and gave his wife a kiss. "I love you."

"Good job I love you too. Now move and get ready. I have a list for you. And it's growing by the second. The quicker you get ready the shorter the list."

"Will you be coming with me on this shopping mission you've prepared for me?" 

"I've not decided yet. I think I want to play at being a kept woman with a house husband today."

Albert bowed "As you wish, Madam."

"Less of the Madam. It makes me feel old."

Albert bit his lip which Betty frowned at.

"Don't even think of making a single comment, buster."

"I wouldn't dream of it," smiled Albert. "Besides, I always find it painful pointing out the obvious."

And with that Albert took his leave, skipping as quick as his hips would allow out of reach of her magazine. Heading up stairs, laughing all the way to the bedroom to get ready, Albert thought about just how dull his life would have been if he didn't have Betty along for the ride the whole time. He didn't know what he'd do without her and, praying to whatever God was listening, he would never have too.