Brunch for two

An unremarkable day. An unremarkable traffic crossing. A thoroughly unremarkable man. Beaten and weathered by the elements; torn and ravaged by his senses; ignored and forgotten by the society of men. A man of no home, and no possessions; of tired limbs and aching mind…yet, hopeful disposition. He hobbles at the crossing; asking, requesting, pleading, and begging; relying on the conscience of humans for his daily continuance. But on this day, being as unremarkable as it is, he holds up his roughly hewn cardboard plaque with a new message, “It’s my birthday, please don’t let me starve”.

Enter: the remarkable man. The man who rose to the pinnacle of success through hard work and sheer determination. The man who sacrificed his all so that he could now look down upon the world that so scorned his advances. The man who is now sitting comfortably on the imported leather seats of his Mercedes while being driven to a gala in his honor. The car stops at the crossing, and the two men make eye contact. The plaque is read, and the window, lowered. Two worlds meet with the exchange of money, smiles and birthday wishes.

King and pauper have become friends.

They meet. They talk. They smile. They make merry, and they part at the change of the light. Regularly. Months of bliss, unlike the pauper has ever known. No need to starve. No feelings of seclusion. Finally, he has met an angel. His faith has been restored. He hobbles a little less. He smiles just a tiny bit brighter, and longer.

The winter has set, and the streets run frigid. The pauper takes warmth in the steam stream. His naked hands, swollen in the icy harshness of an uncaring city. His body shivers. His teeth chatter. His chest is chilled. His lungs ravaged by infection. He stands in his place, his plaque in his yellowed teeth as he warms his hands in his grimy arm pits. His tattered clothes, a testament to his resolve to continue living. Enter: the unremarkable woman.

Many months pass and the pauper is a happy man. Unremarkable man and unremarkable woman decide to renounce their lives and become an unremarkable couple. The pauper is henceforth the Mr. Pauper to his missus. His world seems better. His smile, brighter. His heart, lighter. And he hobbles just a little less.

Unremarkable couple share their stories. She was a lady. Born to a prince. But treated like dirt, and expunged from her home.  Her heart was won, stolen, and shattered; time and time again. One day her soul woke up and she ran away from the world. Living on stale food, and hard roads. Always running. Sometimes from the police, sometimes from the past. Sometimes from love, and sometimes even from herself. One day she gave up on life and ran into the streets, begging for the men and women to put her to eternal sleep. She begged and begged, harder than she ever had. Cars slowed down. Cops dropped by. She was shaken, and slapped, and beaten to "sense". They bruised her body, but shattered her soul. Unremarkable woman was left worse than dead.

She woke up the next day, aching all over. No tears left in her eyes. No will in her bones. She survived like a lifeless machine. Eat. Sleep. Repeat. She turned her back on the world of men. She scorned those looks given by the women. And yet… her heart retained the faintest glimmer of hope. Onwards she walked, street after street until she finally met the unremarkable man.

Re-enter: the remarkable man. The pauper and king rejoice on the anniversary of the latter’s birth. Warm food. Warm hearts. Full bellies, and giant smiles. In comes the unremarkable woman. The king and the woman meet, and yet again, worlds collide in money, smiles, and birthday wishes. The night continues. The laughter continues. Mrs. Pauper’s sudden collapse, and uncontrolled vomiting bring the revelry to an end.

The men move at unearthly speed. They carry her out to the immaculate car, and the king drives it forth to the nearest hospital. Emergency is in the air as the car pulls up. The woman is immediately tended to. The king foots the bill while the pauper visits the chapel. They all reunite in her ward. The doctor leaves with a silent smile. Mrs. Pauper is smiling. King and pauper are confused. “Unremarkable couple” has given way to “unremarkable family”.

Pauper is ecstatic. His eyes are moist. His hands tremble. His speech is gurgled. His hobble disappears. He sits by her bed, gently stroking her arm. A smile on his face, bright enough to rival the sun. She looks at him, a fierce pride in her eyes. Then suddenly, their world shatters. No food. No money. Two unremarkables to raise a baby? Ludicrous! The child would die even before it was born; killed by the swill they eat, and the poison they drink. Even if it was born, how would it survive? What life would it live… the one of a pauper’s child? No! As the parents how could they let a new soul suffer such a curse?

But they were already in love with the child. They had imagined a life together with a new being. The sleepless nights, the endless crying, and those innocent smiles. Those priceless moments when it would hold their rough fingers in its soft hands. The precious yawns. The gummy laughs. Those precious stares taking in the sights of a new world. But are their selfish desires more important than the fate of their newborn? Are they that desperate for a purpose that they are willing to bring a cursed fate onto the child-to-come? Or are they just parents? Maybe the “unremarkable family” is just an empty tile…

But dear king chimes in. He vows to give the child the chance at life, a chance at a good life.  He promises that the unremarkable family will exist, and it will exist in comfort under his watchful gaze. The paupers couldn’t be happier. They have found the godfather of their child. But something has changed inside the king.

The king opens the doors of his palace to the paupers. He sets them up comfortably as they hobble in, awed by such comfort. As the mother-to-be rests, the men share a moment. The king is mostly silent. Pauper looks on, concerned. One heart beat later, he lies face down on the floor.

Pauper’s ribs are bruised. His flank is swollen. And the king stands above him with eyes as cold as an arctic blizzard. He moves forward a step and lands a second swift kick to pauper’s flank. Liver…injured. He finally walks up to pauper’s face and raises it to meet his gaze. Betrayed and broken, pauper is bleeding. His eyes screaming “Why?” The king, swift as a bird, kisses pauper on the lips, tears streaming down his royal face.

Days passed, then weeks, and months. King and pauper were locked in a pattern. The pauper was no longer a pauper. He was but a plaything for his highness. Mother-to-be was none the wiser. The king found a new hobby. The pauper, a new horror. The king could now revel in his love. But what he loved remained unknown to him. The feeling of bone crunching under his foot? The smell of blood? The sounds of wailing? The feeling of futile resistance to his motions? The intoxicating prospect of being found out? The blood stained lips of the weeping pauper as he mouthed “Why?”? Or was it the pauper itself that he loved? King didn’t know. King didn’t care. This was his home, his palace, his kingdom. These were his rules. The paupers were his subjects, and the king demanded taxes.

The day of the delivery looms near. Mother-to-be is in almost constant physical distress. Pauper and king serve her well. Finally, the day of the birth dawns. The king and the paupers leave for the hospital. The mother-to-be will soon graduate to her next title, and so will pauper. As she leaves for the OR, pauper is directed outside the building.

King and pauper are now travelling to an exclusive café by cab. Pauper is trapped and can’t escape. The king makes a proclamation for increased taxes. Since the mother-to-be will be free of her condition, she is to partake in paying taxes. And when the time comes, so will the child. The unremarkable family is hereby contracted to slavery.

The king and the pauper walk into the café. The latter is in shock and can’t find his voice. For the first time in his life he wishes to be dead. He wishes his family to be dead. The king, couldn’t be happier. He signals the manager saying,” Brunch for two”.