When Life Becomes Mundane

 

Mable Fernsby was set in her ways. Having retired five years ago she had settled into a comfortable routine. Each day had it’s own rhythm and until now that suited Mable just fine. She enjoyed time on her own painting, crafting, reading and doing puzzles. But recently she decided she needed to shake things up in her life. She had become too predictable. So how did Mable attempt to break from this pattern she had fallen into? She normally did her grocery shopping on Wednesday, but occasionally now she waited until Thursday. She always met her sister Louise for lunch on Monday, but occasionally now suggested they meet on Tuesday instead. Yes, Mable was indeed making big changes in her life. Louise didn’t actually notice. Lunch on Monday wasn’t etched in stone, Tuesday worked for her. Louise was the older sister, a widow with two grown girls and two granddaughters, her life was unpredictable and busy, but she always made time for Mable. They lived within walking distance of one another in an old neighbourhood where they had both spent their entire life. Louise travelled the world with her husband until she lost him suddenly more than fifteen years ago. Her daughters were only teenagers at the time and Mable stepped in to help. Louise would be forever grateful to her younger sister.

Friday was Mable’s favourite day. Probably a throwback to her working life, it signalled the end of another work-week, a weekend to relax with her hobbies, visit her sister and nieces and just relax. Retirement made everyday a weekend, but Friday still held that special vibe. So every Friday, Mable enjoyed a leisurely walk, window shopping and a pot of tea in her favourite little cafe just a few blocks from her house. On this particular Friday in October, Mable was feeling especially comfortable. She had her favourite quiet table nearest the window, and having dropped in at the library after window shopping she had picked up a copy of Agatha Christie’s “And Then There Were None”. A novel she had read several times, but enjoyed it so much she just felt it was time to read it again. She treated herself to two slices of apple cinnamon bread, poured her first cup of tea and settled in to start reading. Out of the corner of her eye she saw an acquaintance coming in and hoped he would not see her. She shifted slightly to face the window. It was too late. He was standing by the edge of the table. She couldn’t be rude, so invited him to sit with her. He accepted, and said he would return with his coffee. She put her book away and realizing she probably looked disappointed, made a concerted effort to appear delighted to see Flynn. He returned with his extra large frothy coffee and a very large toasted bagel. This seemed to indicate Agatha Christie would have to wait until Mable got home.

Flynn flopped into his chair, almost spilled his coffee, and dropped his bagel on the placemat. Mable gave him a little grin and started some smalltalk. How have you been? Haven’t seen you around. Flynn didn’t require much encouragement to talk about himself. She heard about his wife and children whom she had never met. She heard about the renovation they were having done on their home though she had no idea where he lived. She forgot how she knew him. As his voice seemed to drift further away she began searching her memory to explain how they had any connection. He said something that brought her back to the moment. He was talking about real estate and yes, that was it. He had been the real estate agent for her sister’s last move, and Louise had met him through the real estate deals on both her daughters purchases. The older girl had met him through her in-laws and everyone raved about his ability to close a real estate deal to the advantage of everyone involved. So the explanation of how Mable and Flynn met came back to her and she remembered several parties where they had both been guests. He was still talking about real estate when she refocused on the one-sided conversation. Apparently the market was on an upswing. Mable could easily sell her house for one point five million. Did Flynn know she had only paid one hundred and two thousand dollars nearly forty years ago for her little house. Flynn was telling her she could sell her house, move to a quiet small town just outside the city and put a big chunk of cash into savings. He proceeded to tell her about all the clients he had helped do exactly that and how happy they were in the country. He made something she had never thought of doing sound like something that she really must consider.

The conversation took a turn towards general small talk again and Flynn suddenly realized he had somewhere he had to be. He had barely touched his bagel and still had half his coffee, probably cold now. But he left it behind and said his goodbyes. He had taken a few steps from the table when he returned, handed Mable his business card and offered his services if she should decide to make a move.

It really was never a consideration. Forty years in her little house that cost her one hundred and two thousand dollars. Her tea had gone cold, her apple cinnamon bread only half eaten. She wrapped up the bread in a napkin and decided to head home where she would make a fresh pot of tea and start her book.

As she walked home along the busy city street she suddenly noticed the sound of the traffic and was aware of having to step aside to avoid bumping in to other pedestrians. She turned onto a side street. It wasn’t so bad. Street and pedestrian traffic was light but she made a conscious decision to scrutinize the neighbourhood. Had she just become accustomed to certain unpleasantries? Cars were parked on both sides of the road, making the driving lane a tight squeeze for two way traffic. Some gardens weren’t so well kept and some houses were in desperate need of paint or a new roof. She approached her own house, now worth one point five million according to a very highly praised real estate agent.

Friday night Mable always made herself a light dinner, watched a movie or streamed a few episodes of an old TV show before going to bed to read or do a crossword puzzle. On this Friday Mable was distracted with thoughts of real estate and lots of money in saving’s accounts. Agatha Christie was still waiting, but Mable couldn’t concentrate. She decided she would call Louise tomorrow and ask her opinion.

It was a restless night. The sound of traffic had never been a concern for Mable, but tonight she was very aware of car horns, screeching brakes and sirens. Why had she never noticed this before?

The next morning Mable made her usual Saturday breakfast. Scrambled eggs, peameal bacon, toasted English muffin, orange juice and tea. She sat in her kitchen looking out the window into her garden. It was a very small garden, not enough room for even a little vegetable patch. She had an idea. Before she called Louise she’d search the real estate listings for properties just outside the city. There really were some beautiful listings and lots of open houses this weekend. She phoned Louise, asked her if she would be free on Sunday for a drive to the country. Yes, she’d love to take a road trip. Louse was intrigued. Mable had never suggested a road trip on such short notice. They always required at least two weeks planning. Would they pack a lunch or stop for a bite to eat somewhere along the way? Were there antique stores to visit, craft stores or art galleries? Louise had no idea what this trip was about. Her sister said they would discuss it along the way. She only knew she was to pick Mable up at ten o’clock on Sunday morning and she should have a full tank of gas.

Mable spent the remainder of the day Saturday imagining how different her life might be. The excitement of the possibilities had her feeling giddy. She spent several hours scrolling through the real estate listings.There were three she was most interested in. Two were in a small town about seventy five kilometres from Louise’s house and one was just 10 kilometres more than that. Each house was a bungalow and even the smallest lot was an incredible ninety feet wide. One had a raised vegetable garden, a greenhouse and a small outbuilding she could use as an arts and crafts studio. It was listed for seven hundred and fifty thousand. She could sell her little house for one point five million and easily put seven hundred thousand in the bank. Eighty five kilometres from Louise wasn’t so far really. They could still meet for lunch once a week if each of them drove just forty two point five kilometres and that’s not so far. Louise would have her own room and could stay as often as she wished.

Another sleepless night for Mable. She was up early and waiting on the front porch for Louise when she arrived at ten o’clock as agreed on. Mable had printed off the information for the listings she was most interested in and had printed a map with explicit directions. The open house for the one that most appealed to her would begin at noon. It was the furthest, but only ten kilometres more than the two closer listings which, to be perfectly honest, Mable had already eliminated and really ten kilometres isn’t so far. She almost skipped down the walkway to meet Louise at the curb and save her from having to squeeze into a parking spot. Louise noticed the skip in her step, the big smile on her face but still had no idea what this road trip was about. She stopped the car and Mable climbed in. She held her print outs in a manilla folder which peaked Louise’s curiosity. She didn’t shift into drive, waiting for Mable to tell her which way she would be going. No small talk, no good morning, no how are you. Louise just asked, which way?

The instructions were simple. Up to the highway and head east. The route to the highway was straightforward and usually took about five minutes. Neither Mable or Louise realized this particular Sunday there was a charity half marathon being run. Mable complained that the roads were always being closed on weekends for one reason or another but Louise said she had never taken much notice because they rarely ventured out by car on a Sunday. In fact, Mable never drove on a Sunday. Mable spent very little time driving, so little that Louise was often tempted to suggest they share one vehicle between them and split the cost. This would have been a perfect opportunity to raise the idea but Mable told her to hold on tight because she had big news to share.

Louise was shocked. Was this her sister talking about moving to the country? Her sister who had lived in the city her entire life? Her sister who had seemed happy with her quiet routine, shaking it up occasionally by getting together for lunch on Tuesday instead of Monday? She listened as Mable talked a mile-a-minute about all the information Flynn had shared. She’d have so much more space around her. It would be so quiet. Her bank account would leave her set for life. Louise said the concept made sense and if it was something she really wanted to do there was nothing holding her back. That’s what Louise said. What she thought was something else. Mable had never even hinted that she might move. Never. She was so set in her ways. Was money an issue? She had never shown any concern. She had an excellent pension, Louise knew that. She had decided to wait until she was sixty-five to collect her Canada Pension, but she could apply this year if she needed it. Why hadn’t Louise realized that money was an issue? Mable was describing the house she wanted to see and Louise agreed it sounded wonderful. When would they see one another? Mable had that figured out. They’d meet for lunch half-way and Louise could spend as much time as she wished visiting her in the country. What about shopping and doctor’s and dentist’s? Mable explained to Louise that they do have stores in the country and she could go back to the city for appointments. What about shovelling the snow and cutting the grass in this immense garden? Mable would have so much money in the bank, surely she could hire someone. Mable had a solution for every issue Louise raised and this was how the conversation continued as they sailed along the highway. Before they knew it Mable was telling Louise to take the next exit and go north about ten minutes. And so she did.

The open house signs were posted on the main road which had a ribbon of autumn colours on each side and as far as the eye could see. They followed the signs directly to the house. It was more beautiful than Mable had imagined. There were several other people viewing the house and one young couple deep in conversation with the agent. The sisters strolled through the garden, admiring the raised beds and the greenhouse. The outbuilding Mable would use as a studio was incredible. She could already picture herself spending long leisurely mornings creating art. They hadn’t stepped a foot inside the house, but Mable knew this is what she wanted. This was the shake-up she’d been dreaming of.

The house didn’t disappoint. Everything was perfect. The young couple left and the agent asked if they had any questions. Louise wanted to know about the structure, the foundation, the roof, the electrical and plumbing systems. Mable wanted to know why the owners would want to give up such a tranquil piece of heaven. They had lived in the house about two years, but wanted to move back to the city.

If it’s possible the drive westbound was longer than it was eastbound. Traffic was heavier, it seemed people were heading home from cottage country. Louise asked Mable if she had fallen in love with the house. She had. Was she going to make an offer? She’d think on it overnight and have a decision in the morning. The agent said there was a lot of interest and he was certain it would sell quickly, likely with a bidding war.

When they reached their exit the half marathon was over and the roads had been reopened. Mable noticed the trees were beginning to change colour and there was a crispness in the air. Traffic was light. Their favourite cafe was still open so Mable offered to treat Louise to tea. They both thought that would be a nice way to end their road trip. Mable thought the cafe would be busy on a Sunday evening but it was actually very quiet. The sisters were pleased their cozy table near the window was free. A waitress approached and Mable commented that she must be happy the Sunday rush was done. The waitress shrugged and told her it’s never busy on Sunday. There was one other table occupied by a young couple and a man dressed in an expensive looking suit. Their conversation was loud enough to be heard without the sisters appearing to eavesdrop. The smartly dressed man was a real estate agent and the couple was excited about a house in the neighbourhood. He asked if they could stretch their budget because there was a lot of interest and he was certain it would sell quickly, likely with a bidding war.

By the time Mable was going to bed she was feeling too tired to think. Louise had dropped her off given her a big hug, said she would look forward to hearing her decision and asked if they would be having lunch tomorrow since it was Monday. Mable said she would call her in the morning and they could decide then. She slept well. She didn’t hear any car horns or screeching brakes or sirens. When she woke on Monday morning she knew exactly what she would do. She phoned Louise. She told her she really needed to shake things up. Instead of having lunch today she suggested they meet on Thursday. She would do her grocery shopping on Tuesday this week and today she would spend with Agatha Christie.