The Woman Who Fell To Earth

Chapter 4

Sun

She slept all day. Arthur kept vigil, replacing the quilt when she would drop it to the floor and shiver. He thought she woke twice, and brought her a glass of cold milk, but she only fluttered her eyelids a moment and resumed her slumber.

Remembering his promise to her, he phoned the secondhand store and was relieved that it was closed on Sunday. He would bring her first thing Monday.

Arthur tried to stay awake and watch her, but from his perch on the chair, he dozed for minutes at a time, and after discovering that she was still here after a 20-minute snooze, allowed himself to rest soundly.

He awoke the next morning to the smell of coffee brewing and something burning, and David standing over him, holding a steaming mug in her hand.

"Wake up, you sleepy head," she smiled and handed the coffee to him. "I made some breakfast and coffee."

She was still wearing the ACE bandage, but had wrapped it around her thighs like yellow bike shorts. She had taken liberties and scissors to the rug and had cut a hole in the center where she put her head through like a Persian poncho. She had wrapped several lengths of Saran Wrap around her waist as a belt. She looked like she just stepped out of Fashion Week.

Arthur was stiff from sitting all night in the chair. He moved disjointedly like a tin machine rusting in the woods. He took the coffee and sipped it gingerly. It was too strong, java syrup. "Thank you," he said hoarsely, his throat scraping the first morning words. "What time is it?"

"It's morning. There's sunlight, see?" answered David, pointing to the sun streaming through the windows. "You promised me the shop. I want to be the first one. Can we go now?"

Arthur squinted at the clock. It was eight a.m. He stretched and yawned, took another sip of coffee. "Yes, of course. It opens in three hours. We have time."

"I don't want to miss anything," said David anxiously.

Arthur sighed. He looked into those odd eyes, pleading. "Okay, we'll leave in an hour. Did you say you made breakfast?"

"In the kitchen." She gestured to the two-person table. There was a glass of milk and a cup of coffee at one spot and a plate with something black on it at Arthur's spot.

He picked up the plate and sniffed. Under the burnt smell he picked out a hint of cinnamon. "Waffles?" he guessed.

David lit up. Her toothy grin stretched across her entire face. "Yes! I found them in the freezer. You like waffles?"

Arthur looked down at the black charcoal circle on the plate. Looked at David's elated face. He smiled. "Yes, I love them." He reluctantly picked up his knife and fork and broke the waffle in jagged pieces, gave up on piercing the bite with his fork and picked it up with his fingers instead. He dipped it in his coffee to soften before attempting to bite into it. It wasn't the worst thing he had ever put in his mouth, and he relished the joy it gave David. After he swallowed the last bite, finished the last of the coffee, he took David's hand. "Thank you," he said. "This is the first time someone has ever made me breakfast at my home."

"Ever?"

"Ever."

"Surely your mum...."

Arthur shook his head. "I don't have a mother."

David gave him a look. "Everyone has a mum, even me. Oh, or has she passed?"

"I don't know. I never knew her. I was an orphan."