20 Intas 2719: Afternoon
Aggie's House
Aggie was about ready to smack Brent upside the head. The boy that the strange wick had dropped off at her place that long ago Vortas night had taken up semi-permanent residence in her house, at her insistence. The boy's hand had healed up as well as it could have but, much to her dismay, she hadn't been able to find him a good job. The economy had taken a downturn since the wicks had been banned, and everyone was scrambling for a job. Aggie had promised not to send the boy back to the factories, and she'd be damned if she was going to renege on that promise.
Things were tight, but Brent was able to bring in at least a bit of money by running errands for people around the Dives and, when he couldn't find work, he helped Aggie with her sewing and childcare. He had whined about that at first, saying it was "women's work", but Aggie had told him that he was more than welcome to take to the streets if he wasn't going to earn his keep. After a night where she locked him out when he threw a hissy fit about changing little Victor Cavendash's diaper, he had at least stopped whining about helping with the "women's work".
But Aggie had decided the boy needed to learn how to read and, dear Lady, she had never had a worse student. Every day, when they took out the newspaper and Aggie helped him through a couple articles, Brent moaned and whined as if she was asking him to give her a pound of flesh. No amount of threatening to send the boy back to the factories would stop him from complaining.
Today's lesson had been particularly horrid. The winter had been cold and brutal and, even though Aggie's house had intact walls and a whole ceiling, the bitter winter wind had found every crack in the wall, slithering its way in to find Aggie's bones. The fact that she and Brent had been sleeping on the floor by the stove to stay warm didn't help things. But she was screwed either way – either she could sleep in her bed and freeze and wake up feeling like someone had beaten her with a brick in the morning… or she could sleep on the floor by the stove and stay warm and wake up feeling like someone had beaten her with a brick in the morning. She knew that, when it was this cold, families often slept together in the same bed or pile. Hell, her family had done the same thing. But, even though she may have taken Brent in, he wasn't family. Not yet. Taking him to her bed, even for warmth, was a line she couldn't cross.
Aggie had dealt with yet another crappy night of sleep and her temper was frayed thin when she sat down with last week's paper and started running Brent through an article around lunch time. As usual, he bitched and moaned when she sat him down and brought the paper out.
"Listen, boy. You may not believe me now but trust me when I say you will appreciate this when you're older," Aggie said as she went to grab another cup of tea before running the boy through his paces. She wrapped her hands around the old chipped mug, letting the warmth sink into her aching hands.
"I don't know why, Auntie. None of the boys at the factory knew how to read!" Brent complained.
"And look where that got them!" Aggie exclaimed fiercely as she hobbled back over to the table slowly. God, this winter had taken so much out of her. Aggie would never admit it to anyone, but she wasn't sure she could survive another winter like this. She put her mug of tea down and shook her finger at the boy as she sat down. "I'm telling you, trust me on this! You may be okay being ignorant – that means someone who doesn't know something – but I want you to be able to get a decent job. I ain't gonna be here forever, you know."
That, as always, scared Brent into silence. He wasn't really a bad kid, just one who hadn't had any real discipline in his life. His parents had been too busy working to take care of him, and then they died and he went to the orphanage. The orphanage had rules and discipline, but it wasn't the kind of discipline that Aggie was trying to teach him. It was a discipline meant to keep their charges under their thumbs, rather than discipline meant to help lift them up, like Aggie's type of discipline. Brent was young, a kid who didn't know the difference between the orphanage's discipline and Aggie's. It all felt like it was torture. But he knew that, as much as he hated helping with the sewing and the childcare, Aggie's house was probably the best he could hope for right now. He didn't want to imagine a life without her.
"Now, let's find something for you to read," the elderly lady said as she sat down and pulled over last week's copy of the Weekly. They spent the next two hours going over an article about some inane golly matter, which Brent (of course) complained about. Aggie had pinched the bridge of her nose many times to keep from smacking the boy, but she was at the end of her rope.
"Let's take a break," Aggie said just as she found herself at her breaking point, choosing to get up to throw more wood on the fire and get tea instead of giving the boy the smack upside the head he truly deserved. Her head snapped up when there was a knock at her door. "Oh, hell. Brent, you're faster than me. Go get that," she said as she closed the door of the stove and turned towards the front door. She heard Brent talking to a man, the man's voice faintly familiar. "I'm coming! Just gotta hobble these old bones over," she yelled. "Brent, close the door until I get there. You'll let all the heat out."
She heard Brent apologize and breathed a sigh of relief as the door was closed. Wood was expensive, and they had been having trouble keeping the house warm enough as it was without leaving the door open for Aggie's hour-long trek across the house. (Well, it only felt like an hour. But still. Every bit of heat was precious.)
Aggie finally made it to the front door, shooing Brent and telling him to go fill the stove. She opened the door, a smile brightening her face. "Fucking hell, it's Mr. Adam clocking Spencer!" she said, her voice full of surprised cheer. He was in the Resistance with her, but she hadn't seen him in a few months and had just figured he had decided she wasn't worth his time, like the rest of the Resistance had. "Come in, come in. I ain't got any gollyknockers – you know how expensive sugar is – but I have tea, soup, and space for you to plant your erse," she laughed.
"Brent, grab a tally from the jar and get us some fresh bread, will ya?" Aggie said as she offered Adam a seat. When he started whining, she turned and glared at him. "You gonna bitch about going to get bread, Brent? Really? All we have is the heels and this will save you from having to go out tomorrow. Plus I'll let you out of the rest of your lessons."
The boy's complaints went silent as he realized that Aggie did have a point. He wasn't thrilled about having to go out in the cold, but if it meant that they could get bread and he could avoid the rest of his reading practice, he'd jump at the opportunity.
Aggie went to the stove, bending down with a groan to throw more wood in the fire. Once the fire was stoked, she scooped out a scant bowl of pea soup, grabbed the last 2 pieces of bread, and made her way over to the table. "Eat," she said as she placed the bread and soup in front of Adam. She knew that Adam would know that she wouldn't take any argument. But she kept silent until Brent left, silently glad that the boy was as eager to get out of his studies as she had expected. "Sorry, Adam, old boy. He's not part of the business and I didn't want to worry about things he shouldn't know coming up," she said as soon as he was gone. "How are you doing?"