It may require minor editing for format, as Microsoft Word didn't want to cooperate with me tonight, so I might've missed a few things like paragraph breaks or a punctuation mark.
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So you want another story? My, aren’t you the curious one. I suppose I do have a lot to tell. In fact, I have a very recent story that you might enjoy. This one’s a bit incredible, I admit, but I trust you’ll put your faith in my descriptions.
I was sitting in my garden the other evening for tea with my fiancé and her brother, when a most intriguing chain of events transpired. We sat conversing and minding our own business when out of nowhere Sunday came to pay us a visit. I hadn’t noticed it at first, but my dear Alison gave a bit of a shriek. When I looked up to see what the problem was, there was this bright and bold Day sitting on my right, across from my beloved.
At this point you might begin to wonder just how we would recognize the Days. It’s quite simple, really. We humans spend one seventh of our lives with each of them. Imagine that – about ten years spent with each Day. I should think that a person would become quite familiar with anybody after spending even one year with him or her. So it should come as no surprise to you that we knew Sunday as soon as she had joined us.
Sunday made herself comfortable in the garden chair and looked rather relaxed, though she was in such startled company. We hadn’t been expecting visitors, you see, especially not visitors as illustrious as Sunday. Pouring herself another cup and taking one of the cakes off the tray, she sat in silence, eating slowly.
“Sunday,” I began, attempting to break the ice, “tell me, what occasion gives us the honor of your presence?” Our guest lazily continued to consume her snack, saying nothing. Her radiant gold hues had dimmed into a burnt orange now, and she sat back in relaxation.
“Not much for conversation, is she, John?” Michael spoke to me from across the small round table. I shook my head.
“No, she doesn’t seem to be the talkative type.” Alison offered Sunday another cup, but before she could respond, she was gone. Now Monday sat in her place.
“Thanks, miss,” Monday said gruffly as he took his tea and sipped quickly. Monday didn’t ask for cakes, but he did hold his cup out expectantly for a refill once he had downed the first. Michael and I watched him drink in silence.
Alison willingly filled it. “That blue looks absolutely stunning on you, Monday.”
“Thanks, miss.” It seemed more in response to the tea than the compliment. I could do nothing but shrug my shoulders in bewilderment when Alison stared dumbfounded at me.
Monday looked tired. It is the only way I can think to explain his demeanor; not sour or extroverted or arrogant. Just tired. Monday seemed to be in a hurry, too, but at the same time, he stayed longer than Sunday. The lot of us let out a sigh of relief when he finally disappeared.
Tuesday greeted us in a shamrock green blazer and dark green pants. That stood out the most to me about him, aside from his eccentric behavior. Immediately after his arrival, Tuesday got out of his chair and began walking around the table, gazing intently at each one of us as if we were being investigated by the Spanish Inquisition. Once he began to speak, his voice was a rounded bass that boomed with authority.
“That white lace, my dear, is absolutely marvelous on you. John, I must compliment you on your taste in the fairer sex. And on your garden, as well.”
“Why, thank you, Tuesday,” I began, but that was all I could push out.
“I only wish I could get petunias to bloom as you do. Michael! Try not to wear that color this close to the feast of Saint Anthony. You would benefit by some style lessons from your sister. And don’t slouch; no one likes a slouch, Michael.”
We were afraid to contradict this towering Day even a bit; frankly, I must admit that we were afraid to even speak at all, for fear that we would say something incorrect or unsophisticated.
Round and round, he circled our table until at last he stopped behind me. I flinched just a bit but tried not to show my apprehension. Tuesday rested both of his strong hands upon my shoulders. Just as quickly as he had placed them, they were gone, and I felt a daintier pressure on my shoulder blades. I knew that Wednesday was with us.
“Good evening, everyone,” she greeted us, sliding her left hand off my shoulder and to her side. Her voice was silky smooth, but her face plain. Wednesday glided to the open chair and curtseyed grandly behind it before taking her seat.
“Wednesday, your attire ....” Michael was taken aback that the woman donned a white lace sundress to match Alison’s perfectly. Wednesday winked at Michael and pretended not to hear a word.
“I do wish I was closer to Saturday,” she sighed heavily as I did the honors with our half-full pot of tea. Wednesday nodded gratefully at me and sipped it slowly. She seemed not to be in any kind of hurry whatsoever.
“Saturday?” I asked, tipping back the teapot and gently setting it back on our table. “What could be so special about that Day?” I regretted the question as soon as I had uttered it, because Wednesday shot a terribly ugly glance in my direction. In the next moment, those same gray eyes danced with delight as she spoke.
“Saturday. He’s so lovely. Such a laid-back Day, but he can be industrious if he must be. Saturday’s sunrises and sunsets are . . . breathtaking. Everyone looks forward to them.” Wednesday twirled a finger in her hair and sighed again before continuing. “That Friday doesn’t even know what kind of treasure she has. What a pity that a wild and outrageous Day would be able to spend all her time alongside Saturday.”
Presently Wednesday seemed to be inspired by some unseen muse, and she took to composing on a sheet of ruled paper. The flighty girl filled it with her longing, writing poem after poem about her favorite Day.
I grinned slyly at Alison, who merely blushed in return. She knew I’d been thinking about all of the poetry that she’d written for me, which I’d come upon quite by accident one day not more than a month before.
Once Wednesday had filled her page to the brim with her unrequited love, she and her poetry both were gone. Thursday now sat in her place.
Thursday came with hope.
“Friday’s on her way!” he said, smiling from ear to ear. “She’s so awesome. I wish I could be just like her.”
“Why don’t you try?” Michael asked, shifting in his seat.
“Too much to finish up. If I don’t do my work, Friday gets frustrated. Can’t have that. Can’t have that at all.” Thursday spoke quickly, but he wasn’t in a hurry like Monday had been. He seemed strained, and I could see wrinkle lines forming at his eyes. Thursday certainly had a lot to keep in mind.
He took only one cup of tea and one cake. I began to worry that we wouldn’t have enough for Friday or Saturday, who would most likely be willing to drink quite a bit. I leaned in to Alison to ask her to prepare another pot, when Thursday seemed to intuit my request.
“You’ll need more tea for Friday, won’t you John? Of course you will. Allow me.” For the first time since Sunday, a Day had given us a moment of rest.
“This is all rather entertaining,” Alison confided in us. “More enjoyable than having the Zodiacs over.” Michael grunted in affirmation.
“I swear those constellations were completely star-crossed. They all had their heads up in the clouds.” Much as I agreed with Michael’s assessment, I didn’t have the heart to speak out against the star signs.
“I wonder. . .” Alison began, “what will become of the days once Saturday comes and goes?” It was an interesting question. Rubbing my chin between my forefinger and thumb, I concluded that I hadn’t an answer for it, and neither did Michael.
Much as it had been entertaining, I doubted I could take another Week. Each of the Days seemed to be so very different. It was hard for me to understand how they managed with each other.
Thursday interrupted our wondering when he returned with a full pot of tea and another tray of cakes – we weren’t exactly running out of those, and I had no idea there had been more in the house, but we appreciated his efforts nevertheless.
Before we could thank him, however, a beautiful girl with curly brown locks and dark brown eyes had traded places with Thursday. If I could note one thing about Friday, it’s that she sparkled. I don’t just mean that her spirit was bubbly and effervescent; I mean that the Day literally glimmered in the sunlight.
“Thank you so much for having me over,” Friday began politely, pouring her own cup of tea and munching heartily on one of our cakes. Friday had already allotted two others for herself, as if telling us how many she had decided to eat. She washed every bite with a sip of tea and followed with an “Mmmm,” of pleasure. “This is a fantastic evening tea, John,” she said sweetly. “I hope you’ve been enjoying your visits by the other Days. I know they can be a handful and more at times, but they really mean the best. They really do.”
“Yes, I suppose you’re right,” I said, thinking about her statement. “In reality, I’ve enjoyed you all immensely, but you seem to be the brightest of the bunch.”
“And so lovely,” Alison commented. Friday’s cheeks became ruddy with blush.
“I thank you for your grace and hospitality,” she said quickly, but stopped short on her next thought. It was almost as if she wasn’t sure whether or not to say what had been on her mind. Seeing this, I took no action in steering the conversation. Perhaps she would come around.
“Do any of you take an interest in philosophy?”
What an absurd question for a Day to ask. Thus far, we’d heard but small talk from each Day – for the most part, at least. Now Friday wanted to engage us in a philosophical discussion. I had no idea that the Days could be so intellectual.
“I do, a bit.” Alison’s brother had always dabbled in things like literature and philosophy. Friday grinned at him.
“Tell me, what do you think of the classical philosophers, Michael?”
“I think Plato and Socrates were both off their rockers, to be quite frank with you.” Friday delighted in merry laughter at his pointed statement, and in her laughter she seemed to glimmer even more until she sparkled out, leaving Saturday to greet us.
He ate one of Friday’s cakes and finished her tea.
“I do love her,” he began. “She’s a fantastic, lively girl. And such a gentle spirit. Oh, you were saying, Michael?”
“I was finished, rather. I don’t think highly of those two particular men. Give me Locke or Hobbes any day.” I filled Saturday’s cup, and he thanked me with a nod.
“I suppose I agree with you,” he said. “Political philosophy is more practical. But it doesn’t matter much to me. I’m much more literary. Philosophy intrigues me, but not as much as the poets do.” Alison lit up.
“Really now?”
“Of course. ‘Shall I compare thee to a summer’s day?’” Saturday had not been lying; he could apparently quote Shakespeare.
“Outstanding,” I said. After an awkward silence, sipping more tea and enjoying the air of the night’s descent upon us, Saturday rose from his chair. He spoke graciously and with almost exaggerated gestures. The movement of his hands mimicked that his eyes, which darted back and forth from Michael to Alison to me.
“I wish I could stay longer, but I have much to do. A hard Day’s work lies ahead of me, and if I want any time to relax later I should really begin work soon.”
“Thank you for coming, Saturday,” I said to the Day, his hazel eyes reflecting my own. “It’s truly been great to have you here as well.”
“Think nothing of it, John. I speak for all the Days when I say you have been a most gracious host. No one has shown us more kindness – or patience – than you, your Alison, and Michael. For that, we thank you.” He bent over the table for a final sip of tea and disappeared.
We sat in silence for three minutes or more, wondering if something else was in store for us. I looked around my garden quickly; everything was in order. It seemed as if nothing had happened.
“No one’s going to believe a story such as this,” said Michael, rising from his chair and scratching his head. “When I get older, I’ll probably look upon this as madness.” Michael kept ranting, attempting to joke. “And to think we’ve been through such a hectic week with nothing to show for it. No pay, not even a note.” I now rose from my own chair. As I did so, something caught the corner of my eye.
“Maybe not, Michael,” I said. I bent over to look more closely at the chair the Days had used. Sitting in their place was a large silver coin. I picked it up for a closer look.
Around the edge of the coin’s head were the names of the male days – Monday, Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday – as well as the words “Harmony in all things…” Emblazoned on it was a sunburst behind a cloud. The coin’s obverse side had Sunday, Wednesday, and Friday, and “…every sunrise and sunset.” On the same side was also a picture of a sunset, I assumed. Or a sunrise, perhaps.
“What a lovely piece of memorabilia,” I mumbled, handing it over to Alison.
“This will be well kept, I’m sure.”
With nothing more to say or do, we cleaned up the tea and retired inside for the remainder of the evening; there was nothing I could do to get my mind off of the Days, the coin they had left, or our incredible time with them.
And I’d show you the coin myself, but I left it at home, on my mantle. I wouldn’t dare lose such a thing.
(Yes, it's the 'oops' smilie, but I'm blushing. I blush too easy. >.>; )
