The Heavy Inheritance
Unusually, Aunt Phyllis goes out without her velvet hat adorned with a pink flamingo feather.
She advances resolutely, perched atop her sturdy legs.
"Good morning, Madam," the chauffeur greets her.
"Wait a moment," she replies stiffly, then rushes back inside.
Ten minutes pass, then another three...
Here she comes now, with regal bearing, checking her opulent handbag.
"Is everything alright, Madam?" Karl asks.
"Good morning, Karl," she responds, wearing a polite smile. "Yes, I just forgot my insulin shot."
She gets into the car and closes the door gently.
"Actually, Karl, I didn't sleep well last night. That damned mackerel dish caused me a terrible bout of diarrhea."
"That is unfortunate news, Madam," Karl replies. "Would you like me to call the doctor?"
"No, not right now. Perhaps we'll drop by this afternoon."
She answers, pulling a cell phone from her bag, cradling it on her shoulder while scrutinizing a microscopic wrinkle in her mirror.
(Ringing tone)...
"Hello, Henry," she says loudly. "Are you at the printing press? Good, wait for me there. I’m on my way."
---
Cavendish Press.
Where a pale tranquility pervades its spacious interior, like an aristocratic graveyard in the Age of Enlightenment.
In the courtyard, upon the branches of an ancient sycamore tree, a small goldfinch kindles his vocal cords, offering a refreshing opera: the beautiful morning arrives.
Unawares, a thunderous bang startles him. He throws himself in a fright, before soaring high into the sky.
It wasn’t a hunting rifle. It was the sound of Henry’s hammer, inside a steel shed, pounding relentlessly to staunch a stubborn oil leak.
"Fuck me, fuck you, and everyone who woke up on this terrible day!" he says, addressing a dilapidated copper pipe after the solder he just applied falls off.
He sighs heavily; then he grabs a pack of Lucky Strikes with his stained hands, he bites down on a cigarette, and yanks it out with his teeth, lighting it eagerly and drawing a deep breath until his cheeks flap.
He then loosens his body and stretches out on the ground.
A white fluffy creature jumps onto his chest without permission, staring with crystal blue eyes.
Henry grabs it and raises it above his head with both hands. "What's the matter? Shrewsbury cake? Do you want to fight?"
The cat meows and bites Henry's glove
"Damn, I thought today was a truce!".
---
Bentho (the cat) is busy wrestling a bottle.
Henry throws it high, Bentho jumps after it, flipping on his back, rolling in place, massaging the ground with his fur.
"Get up, you lazy bum!" he calls out. "Are you going to let it beat you?" and starts counting backwards from ten...
A fly enters the competition, and Bentho pounces after it.
"Alright, let's take a break then," Henry says, slumping onto his chair, stretching his exhausted arms languidly.
Aunt Phyllis enters precisely at ten o'clock.
He gets up, eager to meet her, she stabs him with a quick kiss, and brushes past him to take his seat.
"Just woke up, it seems?" she says, eyeing his disheveled shirt buttons.
Henry notices and rebuttons it without a word. He ambles towards a marble-topped counter, shakes a bottle filled with blackberries juice, and turns back, holding a glass.
He places it before her, and sits down beside her.
Aunt Phyllis raises the glass, staring with disgust. She sniffs it and says, "What is this? Glucose syrup!"
"Henry, do you know what my blood sugar level was this morning? 25 millimoles."
"Oops," Henry remarks and drinks the glass in one gulp. "Actually," he says, "that's not even close to your record!"
"Spare us your wit now!" Phyllis retorts, Then she throws a neat envelope in front of him from her bag.
Henry picks up the envelope, takes out a carefully folded paper, glances at it, and puts it back.
He rises nonchalantly; takes a medicine bottle from a hanging drawer. Fills his glass and drops two tablets into it.
He heads to the window and stands there.
While Aunt Phyllis is devouring him with burning expectation.
He lights a cigarette and exhales a cloud of smoke, then turns around saying:
"Aunt, I need some money. I talked to Theo, I'm going to put the East Cottage up for sale. What do you think?"
"Gggfffff," her mouth stutters like a rabid dog.
She slams her fists on the desk, making it shake. Bentho scampers behind his terrified paws, then slips under the table.
She draws a needle that resembles a stylus, plunges it into a snow-white arm, then returns it to its sealed place.
She tips her head forward and snatches it back, then raises the anchor of her tongue to float furiously.
"Here we are, where we never been.
Are you serious, by all the four saints? Tell me!"
She points at him with a ruthless finger.
"I swear, Henry, I swear this damn place has affected your mental faculties. Look at yourself, for Hell's sake, you look like an old vampire feasting on carrion!
When was the last time you ate food? And what is this tarry potion you soak your intestines with?"
Henry bites down on his eyelids, annoyed, and swallows his dry saliva reluctantly.
She gets up like a predatory bear, and approaches until she blocks his breath.
Yielding in his place, she rains down on him with the whip of contempt
"A silly dreamer you are, who thinks the world is indulging foolish innocence"
and she turns on her heel.
She mocks her grandson absurdly
"Wow, Aunt, you won't believe it, the bank agreed to the extension."
"Aunt, great news, Emma was accepted into the Royal Class school."
She spins around, violently retorting:
"Who do you think was supporting you, huh? The blessings of your decadent grandfather on the place!"
"It's my fault, I'm the idiot, Henry."
She lingers in place, seeking; the fever of her forehead swallows a deep breath and exhales it as burning flames, then subsides and leaves.
Bentho leaps, dancing between her firm steps. She stops.
And slowly returns, saying
"I should have listened to Chloe back then, and sold this junk immediately.
I hesitated at the time because I wanted to see you wake up yourself
I believed that you would truly stand on your own two feet after all that life gave you... but no
You are a cursed man, Henry."
