Flash Fiction: Breakfast for Two

Liam’s alarm went off and lightly pulsed its way into Katie’s dreams. She remained still on her side of the bed, waiting for the grunt, click, and groan that accompanied her husband’s exit from bed. Instead, the beeping continued long past the usual three whiny beeps and picked up speed and insistence. Katie flung out a hand towards his side of the bed, aimed in the probable direction of his stomach. Her hand flopped against the empty mattress.

“Really, Lee? On a Saturday?” She rolled over until her hand could slap down on top of the alarm. The beeping silenced. She didn’t bother to roll back onto her side. She laid there on her stomach, spread eagle. He’d abandoned the warmth of the covers and the pleasure of her company, so as far as she was concerned the entire bed was her palace and the bedroom her kingdom. One slow exhale later and she was once again asleep.

Katie’s alarm went off. She punched Liam’s pillow and groaned loudly. It was one of those mornings. She rolled over to her back, and felt around her bedside table. Nothing. Katie jolted upright. The beeps pulsated from the vicinity of the dresser on her right. 

She screamed at the door, “What do you want from me?” She could feel him sniggering, but he didn’t answer. Calling forth all that she knew of Jedi powers, she stretched out a hand toward the tiny white clock. Though she believed and hoped and wished, the force failed her, as did her fingers which barely brushed the beeping plastic menace. She leaned a little further and made contact. At the same moment she lost her balance and dropped heavily to the bedroom floor.

The door opened. Liam leaned against the frame. “Oh look,” he said. “You’re out of bed.”

She lifted her face from the carpet and glared at him through a veil of brown hair. “I hate you,” she said.

“Just until ten, dear. Then you’ll laugh, I promise.”

Katie crawled under the covers backwards, so her feet were pressed against the iron headboard. She heard him moving around the room, but didn’t know what malevolence he planned until cold wet drops began to steadily drip onto her feet.

She clawed the covers off herself and put her face in his. “What do you want from me?”

He kissed her nose. “Breakfast. At that little street side cafe you like. It’s a balmy sixty-five degrees outside and judging by the look in your eyes you could use a caramel latte.”

“You just hate running the errands alone. I’ve seen you in the grocery store. It scares the shit out of you. You’re a sick and needy individual.”

“Organic fruit and yogurt, avocado and bacon on fresh baked whole grain bread…”

She pointed out the door. “Cheerios. Downstairs. Now, let me sleep.”

He thought a moment then shook his head. “Doesn’t have the same appeal. Plus I ate the all the Cheerios last night during Zombie Island.”

“Glutton.” She flopped back down to her pillow.

He laid on his side beside her so his forehead touched hers. She felt him rest the glass of water on her arm. “If we get there when they open, the bread will still be warm.”

“How do you eat while watching that gory show, anyway?”

“And suppose I forget the list again. Then I’ll have to wake you up early tomorrow because there’ll be nothing to eat in the house except bacon and frozen peas.”

She reached up and took hold of the glass. “This is freezing. Why is it touching me?”

“And if the errands take us a while, we can go take a walk in —” His voice stopped when the ice water dumped on his head. Katie put the empty glass back into Liam’s hand and rolled out the other side of the bed. 

There was a short blessed silence as she stretched and yawned her way to the closet, then he said, “Kate, I believe you wet the bed.”

“Yep,” she said. “And you’re changing the sheets.”

“And you’re getting dressed.”

She turned on him and put a finger in his face. “Yes I am. But I’m not showering, combing my hair, or putting on makeup. This is not a date, and I still hate you.” She yanked open a drawer. “I’m doing it for the latte.”

“But you promise to wear sunglasses the whole time and refuse to speak, like an undercover celebrity?”

“Sure. Fine. Whatever.”

Liam jumped from bed with the whoop of a child promised a day at the amusement park.

“I’ll get your purse,” he said.