April 4th, 1912
When she came back from work, Florence looked tired. Her pretty grey eyes were dimmed, and her hair was like a bird's nest. I asked her what was wrong.
"This transfer student, Ernest. He's a misbehaved brat. Gave me a terrible time today."
"What did he do?" I asked as I fetched her a cup of her favorite earl tea.
She reclined back into her chair. "He refused to do anything that I asked of him. Just sat there, doodling and throwing the occasional spit ball at this poor girl, Mathilda."
"Then?" I asked, pressing the cup into her hand.
Florence sighed. "I did the thing that you know I hate to do to children."
"You beat him?"
"Yes."
Florence didn't like to beat children. She had been a child once too, and remembered well the punishments from her teacher. She's a gentle soul.
"Dearie, I know that you had no ill intent when you did it, so I don't blame you. And besides, sometimes some tough love is all that they need."
"You're right, but I felt so bad when his cheeks started turning red and tears started rolling out of his eyes! How would you have felt if you were me, Charles?"
I sat still for a moment. I tried to think about it as much as possible, but the thing I was most focused on was telling her about the gifts.
"I think that the beating was necessary. It hurt, but it was necessary," I said, "Tomorrow, you should probably push him to be better."
Florence sighed and looked down.
"Huckleberry, it's our anniversary soon."
"I know."
"Don't you want to know what I got for you?"
She looked at me, the dimness in her eyes subsiding. "Yes."
I ran into the upstairs room and rummaged through the old trunk at the foot of the bed. Then I ran downstairs like a madman, tickets and coat in hand.
"These are for you, dearie!" I said.
"For me? You shouldn't have!"
I was expecting her to grab the gifts and then kiss me. But Florence did the opposite.
She put her lips on mine, and we shared a happy moment. Then she lifted the coat from my arms and held it up.
Florence said that she didn't like it. She said that she loved it! She thanked me for listening to the times that she rambled about the coat, before noticing that I was holding two tickets in my hand.
"Tickets for New York. Second class."
"Really?!" she yelled, before turning a bit sour. "How much were they?"
"60 pounds each."
"That's amazing, Charles."
My stomach started to flutter. I smiled.
"Did you get anything for me?" I asked sarcastically.
"Yes! I got you Riders of the Purple Sage!" she said, fetching it from a cupboard.
"Thank you so much, Florence!"
We spent the rest of the evening in bliss, planning out our trip and whatnot. I can't describe it or put it into words. But I will say that we were so filled to the brim with happiness that we accidentally skimmed some parts of our daily routine. Fun times indeed!
When she came back from work, Florence looked tired. Her pretty grey eyes were dimmed, and her hair was like a bird's nest. I asked her what was wrong.
"This transfer student, Ernest. He's a misbehaved brat. Gave me a terrible time today."
"What did he do?" I asked as I fetched her a cup of her favorite earl tea.
She reclined back into her chair. "He refused to do anything that I asked of him. Just sat there, doodling and throwing the occasional spit ball at this poor girl, Mathilda."
"Then?" I asked, pressing the cup into her hand.
Florence sighed. "I did the thing that you know I hate to do to children."
"You beat him?"
"Yes."
Florence didn't like to beat children. She had been a child once too, and remembered well the punishments from her teacher. She's a gentle soul.
"Dearie, I know that you had no ill intent when you did it, so I don't blame you. And besides, sometimes some tough love is all that they need."
"You're right, but I felt so bad when his cheeks started turning red and tears started rolling out of his eyes! How would you have felt if you were me, Charles?"
I sat still for a moment. I tried to think about it as much as possible, but the thing I was most focused on was telling her about the gifts.
"I think that the beating was necessary. It hurt, but it was necessary," I said, "Tomorrow, you should probably push him to be better."
Florence sighed and looked down.
"Huckleberry, it's our anniversary soon."
"I know."
"Don't you want to know what I got for you?"
She looked at me, the dimness in her eyes subsiding. "Yes."
I ran into the upstairs room and rummaged through the old trunk at the foot of the bed. Then I ran downstairs like a madman, tickets and coat in hand.
"These are for you, dearie!" I said.
"For me? You shouldn't have!"
I was expecting her to grab the gifts and then kiss me. But Florence did the opposite.
She put her lips on mine, and we shared a happy moment. Then she lifted the coat from my arms and held it up.
Florence said that she didn't like it. She said that she loved it! She thanked me for listening to the times that she rambled about the coat, before noticing that I was holding two tickets in my hand.
"Tickets for New York. Second class."
"Really?!" she yelled, before turning a bit sour. "How much were they?"
"60 pounds each."
"That's amazing, Charles."
My stomach started to flutter. I smiled.
"Did you get anything for me?" I asked sarcastically.
"Yes! I got you Riders of the Purple Sage!" she said, fetching it from a cupboard.
"Thank you so much, Florence!"
We spent the rest of the evening in bliss, planning out our trip and whatnot. I can't describe it or put it into words. But I will say that we were so filled to the brim with happiness that we accidentally skimmed some parts of our daily routine. Fun times indeed!