Cranky stepped out of his house with a glass of wine in his hands. He spent the morning clearing out the master bedroom and other rooms in the house, and staged them in the front lawn. At the edge of the driveway there was a sign that read, in huge red letters against white poster board, “YARD SALE - EVERYTHING MUST GO.”
He sipped his wine glass and wandered about his lawn. There was a tall, golden lamp with a white shade on top, with the light bulb removed. Next to it was a vanity desk and a clothes dresser with drawers on opposite sides and the bottom. Cranky passed dress shirts and blouses that hung from a rack. He guided his hands on a wooden dining room set complete with tables and chairs. He bought it from a used furniture store ages ago, for cheap, too. His favorite lounging chair was out in the lawn. Cranky wasn’t using it, so why not? He moved past the furniture and went to the open boxes. The boxes contained vinyl albums of old rock bands from the sixties and seventies, and swing bands and singers from the early twentieth century. Cranky hadn’t listened to them in a long time, so he figured they’ll go to someone who appreciated that kind of music. From the boxes Cranky explored the rows of folded tables that extended across the lawns. His souvenirs he obtained from a lifetime of travels were laid out for all to see. Anyone would think he was insane to sell them, but he thought they were collecting dust anyway, so why bother keeping them?
Another table had white, faceless heads lined up beside each other. They were all wearing wigs. Cranky took another sip of his wine and stroked his bald head when he inspected the wigs. There was one hairpiece at the far end of the table that resembled Elvis Presley’s hair. Matilda always thought he looked handsome wearing that.
Matilda. Sweet Matilda.
He sighed and raised the wine glass to his lips. Cranky couldn’t help but let Matilda’s name hover in the back of his mind, even when he promised to never think of her again. “It’s for your own good,” he often said to himself.
Cranky gazed at the wigs, and the white, faceless heads that wore them. He realized he was fool for wearing them all those years, trying to disguise himself when he had no reason too. He thought of Matilda again, how she loved him, and how he kept wearing those wigs when she appreciated him for so much more.
And there he goes again. Matilda, sweet Matilda.
The wine glass connected with his lips, and Cranky realized he was out of wine. He went inside his home to pour himself another glass. Before entering through the door he turned his head back. So far nobody came by yet. The cars rolled through the street, sometimes slowing down to look at his lawn, then driving off. Walkers would do the same, stopping for a brief moment before going about their business.
Cranky sighed again, then went back into the house to have more wine.
Pinkie Pie skipped on the sidewalk, humming to herself, as a child would do. She slowed down when she noticed a house down the street was having a yard sale. Curious, she walked toward the house this time. Arriving closer she realized it was Cranky and Matilda’s home. It was strange that they were having a yard sale, she thought. They (Cranky mostly) never dream of giving away his things. The very thought was horrible to them.
Stepping in the driveway she remembered what had happened to Matilda a few months ago. A sad breath escaped her, and she felt worse for what Cranky had to go through. Still, she wondered why all of their stuff was outside.
She explored everything in the front lawn; from the furniture to the tables and chairs, from the old records to the old wigs, even the clothes that out on the hangers and folded on tables. Many of the clothes belonged to Matilda. Pinkie remembered seeing her wearing the white long sleeved buttoned shirt that was folded on the table, along with the minty-green blouse that was next to it. There was a rack of shoes she used to wear as well. Pinkie picked one up and inspected them from top to bottom.
“Do you like anything you see?” a gruff, male voice asked. Pinkie looked up and saw Cranky, holding a glass of wine.
“What’s going on here?” Pinkie asked.
He put the glass to his lips. “I’m having a yard sale.”
“Why?”
Cranky brought his eyes to the grass. “I have to.”
Pinkie looked at him confusingly, then gazed back at the rack of shoes. She returned the shoe she had in her hands back on the rack.
“Do you like that pair? Name your price.”
“I can’t. I mean, they belong to Matilda.”
“Yes. I know,” he sighed.
Pinkie looked around the lawn. It seemed as though almost everything from the house was outside. She wanted to know what the inside of the house looked like. Admittedly she did see some things that interested her. Pinkie looked nervously at Cranky, who just stood there with the wine glass. “Just let me know if you see anything you like,” he said. “Let me know and name your price. I’m up for anything.”
“Sorry, but I don’t have any money,” Pinkie said.
“In that case, they’re all free. Take whatever you want. Nobody’s using them.”
Pinkie was going to protest, but Cranky already walked away. She watched him step inside the house. She rubbed her arm and decided to look at the things for sell. Pinkie inspected the rack of shoes once more. All of them looked wonderful. There were glass slippers, high heels, low heels, boots; there were shoes for formal events and for casual times, many to be worn during the seasons. They might be good enough to be worn by her best friend, Rarity, as long as she doesn’t realize they came from a yard sale. Cranky said she can take whatever she liked, but Pinkie didn’t feel right doing that.
She moved to the clothes that were laid out on the table. Sweaters, long sleeve and short sleeve shirts, jeans, skirts, and socks were present. There were more clothes hanging on the rack beside her. Each individual piece of clothing looked just as nice as the one before it. While looking through the line of jackets she found a dark-brown winter overcoat. Pinkie removed it from its spot to try it on. Although she didn’t have a mirror she knew it wasn’t her style, but it was still a nice coat. She placed it back on the rack. Maybe someone else will like it.
Pinkie moved around the lawn, going from section to section of the items displayed for sale. When she arrived at the tables, and to her surprise she found Cranky’s travelling souvenirs on display. They had no price tags. She visited their home many times to know what they were and where they came from. There were ceremonial masks from the many African countries they visited. A model of the Eiffel Tower stood next to them. Those silly Matryoshka dolls from Russia were lined up from tallest to smallest, and next to them was a statue of the Hindu god Vishnu. Even his Americana collection was laid out, including his coin and stamp collection. Memories came up of how Cranky lightly slapped Pinkie’s wrist for attempting to touch them.
Cranky came out of the house and approached Pinkie, and saw she was looking at the souvenirs. He saw the shocked expression in Pinkie’s face.
“Those old things,” he said. “You like them?”
“These are your souvenirs. Your prized possessions. Why are you giving these away?”
“I told you… I have to move on.”
“But these are priceless. Nobody can’t take them, and they shouldn’t be given away.”
Cranky stared at Pinkie. He took a sip of his glass of wine. “They’re my stuff. I can do whatever I want with them, and I want to give them away. Take them if you want.” She still didn’t feel that she should be taking any of them, but she liked the Russian dolls. “I’ll wrap them up for you,” Cranky said.
“But what about money?”
“Don’t worry about it. Anything else you see?”
Pinkie didn’t know the answer. Also, it was nearly dusk, so she couldn’t see a thing unless the street lamp was on. She decided that the Russian dolls was all she needed. Cranky gathered the dolls and carried them inside so he can wrap them in a box. Before going inside he searched the box of albums until he found the one he liked. “You want to come inside?” he asked her.
“Sure,” she answered. Pinkie figured he can use some much needed company.
She followed Cranky inside his house and was shocked to see it was nearly empty, save for the couch and the television. There were piles of boxes on top of each other, labelled in black marker. Cranky retreated to the couch with the glass of wine still in his hand. He noticed that Pinkie had her mouth open the whole time they entered the house.
“Just doing some cleaning up,” Cranky explained.
“Everything’s gone,” she muttered.
Cranky nodded. “Everything’s gone,” he repeated.
“Why are you doing this?”
“Like I said, I have to move on.”
Cranky wrapped the Russian dolls in newspaper and placed them inside a box. He handed the box over the Pinkie, who still felt terrible for taking them.
“Thank you,” she said with sadness in her voice.
“Anytime. You’re a wonderful young lady. I don’t think I’ve told you that before, haven’t I?”
Pinkie chuckled. Cranky nodded, smiled lightly, then returned to his couch to finish his glass. He held the remote to turn the television on. She couldn’t stop gazing at the sad-looking old man. Pinkie wondered if he ever had anyone visit him since Matilda died. Probably not, she realized.
“Do you mind if I stay here for awhile? To keep you company?” asked Pinkie.
They gazed at each other in silence.
“Sure,” he said.
Pinkie joined him on the couch and they watched television together. They didn’t watch anything in particular, it was mostly channel surfing. He’d change to a few sports channels and watch for a little bit before changing the channel again. There was an old black and white movie airing, one Cranky recognized, and he sat and watched.
“Do you want anything?” he asked.
“May I have a glass of water?” Pinkie said.
Cranky nodded, got up from the couch, and went into the kitchen. A moment later he returned to give a cold glass of water to Pinkie. “Thank you,” she said.
“My pleasure.”
They watched the old black and white movie in silence. Pinkie always wondered why the actors spoke in those weird accents in movies like they were watching. She imagined those old movies were the reason Rarity talked the way she did. She was probably a fan of those movies.
“Do you know I still remember when we first met?” he said.
Pinkie nodded. “Me too.”
“If you don’t mind me saying this in front of you, I found you annoying that day.”
“I can’t imagine why,” she said with humor in tone.
“You kept pestering me wherever I go. I wanted nothing more than to be rid of you. Then you brought Matilda to my home. I’ll never forget that moment. It was the happiest day of my life.”
Cranky removed himself from the couch to search one of the boxes. He grabbed a large book in his hands, one Pinkie instantly recognized. It was the scrapbook that he and Matilda kept. Cranky opened it and it revealed photographs of him and Matilda together, and their travels around the world.
He sighed. “Since Matilda passed on, I was a wreck. I spent my whole life searching for her. You remember, don’t you? I’ve found her, got married… two years later she’s with the angels. How about that? I guess you can say it’s the story of my life.”
He turned the page and there were several photographs of their wedding. A wave of sadness washed over Pinkie. She and her friends missed it, but from what she was told the whole town attended their wedding, and it was the most extravagant event in their small town. Her eyes and nose began to tingle.
“Sometimes, kid, things happen in which you have no control over, Matilda being one of them. I still remember when we first met in our youth, and how happy I was when we finally found each other after all those years. I guess… I have you to thank. You were the one that brought us together.” He finally brought his eyes to Pinkie. “You were the one that gave me happiness. Now I guess it’s time to find solitude again.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” Pinkie said, her voice shaking. “Where will you go?”
“There is an island in the Pacific Matilda always wanted to go. It’s quiet, it’s peaceful. It’s heaven on earth, that island. That’s where I’m going.”
Pinkie wrapped her arms around him. “Please don’t go. Everyone will miss you… I’ll miss you.”
Cranky gently unwrapped her arms. “If I stay here I’ll be even more miserable. That island is my final destination. But I will say this: you have been a great friend, Pinkie. Thank you for showing me friendship and finding Matilda for me, and giving the happiest two years of my life.”
He wiped the tears from Pinkie’s eyes. Cranky let go of her, walked to the record play that was in another room and placed the jazz record he found in the record box on the player. A soft piano tune played and it filled the room. Cranky emerged from the room and looked at Pinkie.
“Matilda always loved this song,” he explained. Cranky extended his hand to her. “Do you care for a little dance?”
Pinkie smiled. They joined hands and carried each other to the rhythm of the soft tune. She held onto him, hoping he wouldn’t get away. While they were dancing Cranky caught a glimpse of the stuff outside. He’ll keep them out there as long as he can, until everything is gone. Then he’ll finally go to that little island in the Pacific.
