BETH SOKOL

Arthur woke up to an unusual smell.

Well, he supposed that it wasn’t that unusual, given that it was the smell of someone grilling burgers. However, he was home alone, and it was nine in the morning. Albeit, he has been guilty of eating some questionable things for breakfast: five-day-old cold pizza, miscellaneous leftovers, usually just coffee (occasionally seasoned with a cigarette).

It was one such cigarette that Arthur ventured onto his back deck to consume, coffee in the other hand, when he realized that the smell of grilling was, in fact, coming from his own yard.

A woman was busying herself over his propane grill, frying burgers, in an outfit he could only describe as cottagy, complete with frilly apron. She was older, had gently curled gray hair cut short and small bluish gray eyes. She hummed to herself and did not look up from her work when Arther stepped outside.

“Hello dearie,” she chirped, flipping a patty.

He took a drag of his cigarette. Was this one of his neighbors? She didn’t look familiar, but maybe she was the one at the far corner, the one with all the cats.

“Who are you?” said Arthur, the gravel of sleep still in his voice.

“Oh, I’m just a… friend.” Her voice was sweet and rang with confidence and vitality belying her hunched posture and the wrinkles around her eyes.

“Look,” said Arthur, jutting his hand with the cigarette in her direction. “You can’t be here. What are you even doing?”

“Having a cookout, of course! Don’t you know what day it is?” She turned now to smile at Arthur, who realized that he did not actually know what day it was. “It’s the Fourth of July, silly!”

She was so jovial that Arthur was sure that she was absolutely cracked.

“It’s a day to celebrate liberty, I think, by your customs, and eat food, and all sorts of fun things. Here, sit, sit.” She guided him to sit at the patio table. He complied, somewhat haltingly, but sat and took a long drink of coffee. “Tell me,” she continued, taking the seat across from him. “How do you like feeling … liberated, being … free.” She had paused, like she was carefully choosing words she was unfamiliar with. Arthur didn’t know what to make of this.

“Lady, I don’t know why you’re here, on my property, cooking burgers, but nobody here is free. We got jobs, and bills, and some of us have families we have to take care of. Everything cost money, everybody gotta pay their dues. Now, I’ve got to get to work. So, if you’d please excuse me-”

“But wouldn’t you like to be be free of all that?” She interrupted.

“Well yeah, I guess.” Arthur had enough. He leaned back into his chair and rubbed his hands across his face. Those burgers were sure starting to smell good. “Why are you in my yard? What do you want from me?”

“Just to give you a bite to eat!” Her eyes crinkled at the edges, and her smile grew.

“Okay, yeah—sure. Give me a burger.”

“Are you certain?”

“What? Yes! Yes, give me a burger.”

“Positive?”

“Lady! I’ll take a burger!”

“Thrice spoken and accepted.” She bowed her head before getting up and preparing Arthur a plate, which she set in front of him with a rather spry curtsy.

With the plate in front of him, the burger smelt absolutely heavenly. How did Arthur not think of having burgers for breakfast more often? There was a pile of chips next to it, and a mound of potato salad. He was about to ask for a fork when he realized she must have placed one next to him, because there one was, next to his hand.

He lifted the burger in both hands, and admired it just for a second. The patty was thick, and glistening with grease. Ketchup, mustard, and mayo all oozed out of the sides over the top of melty cheese. It was piled high with lettuce, tomato, and onions. The bun was round, speckled with sesame, and lightly toasted. It was perfect, just how he liked it. Nothing could have prepared him, however, for the first bite. It was incredibly juicy, and the perfect blend of savory, which complemented the tang of the sauces and the sweetness of the bread, and something vaguely spicy that he couldn’t identify. He was barely done with the first bite before he took the second, the third. He couldn’t eat it fast enough but wished it would never end. As soon as he was finished with the burger, he dove into the potato salad and chips, shoveling the food into his mouth, hoping for just a few moments longer of this edible pleasure.

And then it was gone.

With an empty plate, and breathing heavy, he looked up to find that he was alone on the deck. At first he thought that was strange, but could not immediately remember why he thought that was strange. The grill caught his eye. He got up from where he was sitting and gingerly touched it with the back of his hand and found that it was cold. He thought that was strange, too. However, he couldn’t piece together why that shouldn’t be the case, either.

No matter.

The man, whose name might have been Arthur, except he wasn’t sure why anyone bothered with those sorts of things, went back inside and wandered first to the kitchen (to grab a beer), and then to living room (there should be a TV there). He swore there was something he was supposed to be doing, or somewhere he was supposed to be going, but he couldn’t put a finger on it so wagered that it wasn’t that important. He felt liberated. Unyoked. Nothing was going to come between him and any whim or desire he might have.

So, he sat down, and picked up the remote.