Robert carefully and quietly crept down his creaky stairs. Paranoia invaded as he anticipated the wrath he would consume from what lurked in the kitchen and slammed things. He had been told one, two, three too many times what a lesser man he is compared to those more distinguished in high society.
What makes me lesser?
He felt he was never given a fair shake. Having a perfect sister whose existence was to absorb all the accolades and happiness and a average brother who acquired more attention than he deserved, left little of the scrapings for poor ole Robert.
He walks into the kitchen and that frown turns upside down. He darted forward to his nicely hung calendar situated next to a black smiling cat clock, with a ticking tail, and a beige wall phone. His wife-
It lurks and looks at me.
Slams the tea kettle onto the stove and turns her attention to Robert standing behind her.
“Robert, dear, how’d you sleep? Are you looking for work this morning?” she asks in a sweet voice, that housed something more sinister. Robert shook his head no, but put a finger in the air. He turned from the calendar and sauntered toward her, but shuffled left to open a small drawer and pull out a black marker. He then turned toward his wife and lightly kissed her forehead.
“Andrea, darling, not today I will not. As today is-” he happily tried to recite.
“Today is day number ninety without a job!” Andrea snarled.
There she is.
He thought. He swung his hands upward as to not want to fight, but couldn’t help but grin.
“Sweetie, it is day number ninety. Today is the day my life- our life changes,” he stated. He marked a fat X on the calendar and quickly flipped through to examine ninety straight X’s marked. He bee lined to the dinner table and picked up a mug of coffee, quickly gulping, and quickly spitting back up.
“It’s yesterdays coffee. I told you to not leave your dishes out and about. I’m not your maid, not anymore,” Andrea exclaimed. She walked to stand next to Robert with a furious look.
“It’s okay. It’s okay,” Robert repeated. Nothing could get in the way of this day. He picked he paper, put it next to his face and points at it. “The Commonwealth Yorker, read,” Robert stated and pushed it into Andrea’s face.
“All aspiring writers, please submit your stories to shoemakerbeers@commonwealth.com. We, The Commonwealth Yorker, understand the distinguishable honor in ones lifetime to be bestowed a writer, therefore, it is our promise to read each and every story within ninety days time. You will receive correspondence by day ninety and that is our promise,” Andrea read monotonous.
“Exactly! Today is day number ninety and I know they saved the best for last. Our lives are changing today. I’m going to be happy,” exclaimed a suddenly chippy Robert.
“But you are not a happy man. Good writers write happy stories and sad stories with happy endings. Your stories are sad. No happy endings. You’re not a good writer. I’d call you a hack, but a hack makes it to become a hack,” Andrea stated as she gave her tight faced husband a dopey look. “You had a good job that paid decent wage. You have not worked for ninety days and are a failure. On match day you lied to me and my mother about your height, and you lied that you would take care of me and you’re not. You lied that you would take care of that yellow stain on our bedroom ceiling and you won’t. You aren’t distinguished,” Andrea said. Robert’s tight, red faced smile grows wider.
“I understand honey, I do. I-” Robert says as he is interrupted by what sounded like a bird squawking.. in the living room? Andrea rushed past Robert and their “happy” marriage photos on the wall into the living room to see a raven settled upon the wooden chair next to the large square window in the center of the room.
“Your bird-” Andrea began to say.
“That is not my bird. It is a wild animal that creatively finds its way into our home,” Robert affirmed. The phone started to ring.
“Your bird is back in the house and on my FATHER’S CHAIR. Get rid of it!” she shouted as she rushed past Robert to answer the phone. Robert moved closer to the raven, as it mirrored his movements and moved closer to Robert.
“Get out of here bird, you get me in more trouble,” Robert pleaded. “Go. You’re here everyday. Go,” Robert said as the bird doesn’t budge. It stared at Robert with its small beady, button-like black eyes, never once turning away. The black ruffled feathers sat mangled, yet contributed to a stoic pose by the bird that slightly intimidated Robert.
What do you want?
Robert thought to himself. He opened the near window and the raven flew out, without much hesitation. Robert slammed the window and just starred and wondered.
“Robert!” Andrea shouted from the kitchen. Robert rushed to the kitchen to see what the fuss is now.
“It’s your sister. She sounded upset. She wants you to come over right now,” Andrea said. “Can you do me a favor? I need you to go to store on your way home and get me two roasted Cornish hens for dinner tonight,” Andrea asked and stated to Robert.
“Of course sweetie. Anything else?” Robert asked nearly jumping out of his shoes and trousers to get out of the house. He was leaving no matter what, but now he didn’t have to make up an excuse.
“Yes. Call your boss, tell him about your silly boyhood dreams, tell him what you did for ninety days and what you did to my heart, and beg for your job back,” Andrea pleaded as tears well up in her eyes and shoved a travelers mug into her husbands stomach. “Also, I did make English tea because I knew you’d be too stupid to do it yourself. I love you.”
The Place Readers Seek 