Wild Mustard
"Ah, my friend," she said, "how little you know. Alcohol is a widely underrated medication...." TWO-MINUTE fiction
From the archive 2023. Come take a brief Saturday walk down a dusty road in Chisholm County . Bring a hankie— it’s allergy season
It is spring in Chisholm County, and the drone of the cicadas is as irritating as a rusty hacksaw. Maxine has sneezed probably two dozen times walking down the dusty road this late Saturday morning. The wild mustard is blooming in the ditches, breathing out pollen on both sides of the narrow lane. The oaks in the fields are shaking their tassels, permeating the air, covering the landscape with a fine yellow powder.
She knocks on the shabby front door, eyes itching, nose dripping like a faulty hose bib. “Come in, come in,” says Frances. “Jeez, Maxine, you look bad.”
“I know it. These damn allergies, Frances.” She feels another sneeze coming on and fumbles for the hankie she has tucked up her sleeve. “It’s all this pollen,” she snuffles, “it happens every year about this time and seems to be getting worse as I get older.”
“Everything gets worse as we get older, Maxine. Let’s go into the kitchen, and I’ll make us some hot tea with lemon and honey. I’ll shoot a little brandy into the pot too – and that ought to help. Just don’t tell anyone. People around these parts would be shocked to know that sometimes drinking begins before noon at Frances Cameron’s house.”
They sit at the table, Frances adding the medicinal ingredient to the steaming teapot, Maxine dabbing at her nose. “You know as well as I do, Frances, brandy in tea is not a cure for swollen sinuses and weepy eyes.”
“Ah, Maxine, my friend, how little you know. Alcohol is a widely underrated medication for life’s little infelicities. At our age, we have to look for relief wherever we can find it. Life is short .. and so complicated.” She pulls a small pan of warm apple crisp from the oven and sets it on a fat crocheted doily on the table with two large soup spoons. “Have some of this, too. Might help.” She handed Maxine a spoon. “I am your best friend. Would I steer you wrong?” They eat the sweet, gooey stuff right out of the pan.
“Frances, we’ve been friends for so long, I can’t remember which one of us is the bad influence any more, but I suspect it is you.”
“Yeah …. probably. That is why you like me, and you know it. It’s never been my aim to solve your problems, Maxine, but I can distract you, can’t I? Cheer you up. That is what best friends do.”
“Right you are,” she wheezes, scraping the crumbs out of the pan, licking the spoon.
After two full cups of Frances’ allergy cure, Maxine washes up the cups and pie pan to hide the evidence of their shameless lack of self-restraint. They go into the living room, Frances to the arm chair, Maxine to the couch. The combination of carbohydrates and alcohol do their magic, and side by side both fall into a short, contented sleep.
“Shameless lack of self-restraint?” Or a wise use of available resources?😉
Sounds like a" comfortable "day to me.