October 2023 Flash Lit 1 - One Step at a Time

“I hope it encouraged him,” she said, as she turned to run down the hill: “and now for the last brook, and to be a Queen! How grand it sounds!” A very few steps brought her to the edge of the brook. “The Eighth Square at last!” she cried as she bounded across… Through the Looking Glass, Chapter 8

 

 

Carl frowned at the paper.  He ran a wrinkled hand across its surface, trying to smooth out its creases.  It didn’t make the picture any clearer.  He blew out a breath and the little plastic bag that held the jumble of fasteners flinched away across the counter.

 

Why didn’t the damn instructions have any words?  And why the hell were all the parts so small?  Carl took off his glasses and rubbed them on the tail of his shammy shirt, which just smeared the dirt around.  He snorted and yanked open the kitchen drawer—there had to be a glasses cloth in there along with the rubber bands, the odd screws, the take-out menus, the leftover plastic bits of something, and one of Alice’s old lipsticks.  The lipstick made him pause.  He touched the plastic tube gently and maybe it was his imagination, but he smelled her lemony clean skin.

 

Right.  Glasses cloth.  There it was, snagged on half a brick of staples.  Carl extracted it and polished his lenses.

 

Determined now, he turned back to the directions.  “One step at a time,” he said to himself.  He’d never been very patient. 

 

It took at least an hour, but at last he was able to toss the allen wrench into the drawer, the shredded baggies into the trash, and the cardboard packaging into the recycling bin.  The table was just the right size.  He carried it from the kitchen to the living room and placed it between the armchairs by the window.  Carl liked how the light slanted across the squares on the tabletop.

 

Then he fumbled in his pocket for his cellphone.  It took him a few tries to unlock it and to remember how to make a call.  Ridiculous that making a phone call was the hardest part of using the damn phone.  He stabbed at the numbers on the screen and waited.  Voicemail.  “Hi Daniel.  It’s Gramps.  I got a new table for the chess set.  Maybe you can come play tomorrow?  Call me back.”  Carl recited his own phone number, but before he finished, the phone was ringing.

 

Carl swore as he tried to figure out how to hang up one call and answer the incoming one, so the first thing Daniel heard was him saying “Goddamn stupid ass phone!”

 

Carl heard Daniel’s laugh, the same intonation as Alice’s.  “Hi Gramps!  What’s up?”

 

“I just left you a voicemail,” Carl said.

 

“Yeah, but it was easier just to call you back.”

 

“I got a table for the chess set.  Can you come play tomorrow?  We can get a pizza.”  Carl didn’t know if pizza was as motivational now that Daniel wasn’t seven anymore, but it couldn’t hurt.  He held his breath, waiting for the answer.

 

“Sure, Gramps,” Daniel said.  “This time I’m going to beat you.”

 

“Big words, kid,” Carl said, smiling.

 

“See you tomorrow.”

 

Carl plopped into one of the chairs, leaned back, and fell asleep thinking of opening moves.