Arthur likes to think of himself as the King of 12th and Garden Street, although his coworkers would laugh at him if he said that out loud. His official title is ‘Intersection and Crosswalk Coordinator’ for the City Department of Pedestrians and Municipal Lights. His daily task of monitoring pedestrians from a tiny screen may not seem glamorous, but Arthur considers himself exceptional at his job, so he calls himself the King. The corner where the short 12th Street cuts through the city-long Garden Street is quiet, but this only makes Arthur’s job more difficult. His coworkers, like Frank Culos who oversees both the 16th and California Street crosswalk and the four-way stop where Curtis Ave turns into Broadway Blvd, taunt him for controlling such a small intersection. But Arthur knows they’re wrong. He may only have a blinking red traffic light to indicate when a car needs to yield to a walker or bike rider, but he can almost always time it perfectly where cars barely have to slow down and walkers never have to run across. Every second Thursday, Arthur has the day off and he enjoys walking the 3.7 miles from his small apartment to Curtis Ave where he counts how many seconds he has to wait before he can walk across the street. Once he gets across the street, he presses the walk button to return and counts the seconds again. It often takes Frank Culos more than forty-eight seconds to switch the little walking sign on. It never takes Arthur more than twenty-six seconds.
Although Arthur is the King of his crosswalk, it isn’t his entire life. He also has Paula. Every day after work, he visits her at Picnic Leftovers grocery store where Paula works register four. Arthur knows he could go to Picnic Leftovers once a week and stock up on his frozen chicken potpie, but he doesn’t want to deprive Paula nor himself of their daily interactions. Arthur has never loved someone like he has loved Paula because no one has ever understood him like Paula. Growing up he longed to be a part of inside jokes and Paula understands that. She even created one between them. Every evening, Arthur approaches Paula, with her short blonde bob and blue checkered Picnic Leftovers’ apron cinched around her waist, and sets his chicken potpie on the conveyor. Paula says “Oh yum! That’s my favorite!” to which Arthur responds “I think you mean our favorite!” and Paula laughs and laughs and laughs while Arthur stands across the register beaming with joy. It is, undoubtedly, their favorite part of the day. Overall, Arthur is a happy man.
The first day of spring starts exceptionally well. Arthur arrives at work four minutes early, just enough time to stand in the break room but not speak to anyone. Before lunch, he has four walkers approach the intersection, one from 12th Street and three from Garden Street. If Arthur had to guess, they are coming and going from the small corner coffee shop, The Caramel Cup! After lunch, a mother stands on Garden Street and lets her toddler press the walk button. Arthur changes the light immediately, to the toddler’s screaming delight. This is why Arthur loves his crosswalk. At busier intersections, you barely can distinguish pedestrians from each other. In Arthur’s small, dark office, he can sit on his six-wheel swivel chair and watch his people all day crossing back and forth across his tiny television screen.
After such a wonderful day of bringing happiness into the world and feeling empowered by the fresh spring air, Arthur approaches Paula with a bounce in his step. “Oh yum! That’s my favorite” sighs Paula.
Before he can think it over, Arthur responds, “Well, maybe next time I’ll get two!” He immediately regrets this decision. Has he embarrassed Paula? Will she feel abandoned by his deviation from their inside joke?
No! She smiles kindly and says with a shrug, “Wouldn’t that be nice.”
Arthur can’t think of anything to say back so he gives her a gregarious smile and leaves the store.
On his walk home, Arthur decides it is time to take his relationship with Paula to the next level. He would be a great companion for any lucky woman. Arthur has a good career and is consistent, two qualities women find deeply attractive. Or so, Arthur thinks. He’s never had a girlfriend, but the thought of telling Frank Culos about Paula makes Arthur smile. He determines to stop in the store tomorrow before work and ask her to join him for a potpie dinner. There is no reason she should refuse. Once, she was stacking canned green beans in the ethnic foods aisle and complimented him on his t-shirt, the one gifted by a sports drink company doing an office promotion. Paula and Arthur have all the same interests. Tomorrow will be the beginning of the rest of his life.
The next morning, Arthur arrives to the store twenty-six minutes after it opens and heads straight for register four, where a small line has formed. Picnic Leftovers is busier in the morning than in the afternoon. Most customers are carrying small coffee cups and breakfast burritos or pre-made bagel sandwiches. Arthur doesn’t feel the need to pick up anything to purchase. He isn’t a fan of coffee or breakfast, and when Paula sees him, she will understand his intentions immediately. However, he does have to wait for the other customers to finish checking out. The man in front of Arthur wears a dark suit with a floral tie. He is about a foot taller and has a thick black mustache. Arthur prefers his own clean-shaven face and simple t-shirt, the one Paula loves so much. He almost feels embarrassed for the man approaching Paula with such a large smile, clearly unaware that he is not her type, but Arthur is in too good a mood to feel anything but excited.
“Oh Peter! I love your tie!” squeals Paula when the man reaches her register. Arthur feels a rush of love for what a kind woman Paula is, not wanting the man to feel ashamed. However, the rush dissipates quickly as Peter continues discussing his plans with Paula that weekend. They seem to be attending the same piano recital and luncheon. Arthur is shocked.
“And Paula, you better come hungry because I am making your favorite!” Peter calls as he exits the store.
Arthur is frozen.
Paula lets out a little cheer before exclaiming “It’s the perfect weather for cucumber soup!”
Cucumber soup? Paula’s favorite is frozen chicken potpie. If Arthur knows anything, he knows that. He stares at this stranger in front of him. He hardly recognizes her. Does she always wear that much mascara? Why doesn’t she have a more lucrative career than cashier in a discount grocery store? How dare she cheat on him with some man in a suit with a mustache who isn’t even her type!
Arthur still hasn’t moved. Paula peers around the gum trays and mini fridge of soda pop and gives him a sweet smile. “Are you lost?” she asks. Arthur can’t speak so he merely shakes his head. “Can I help you find anything?” offers Paula. Arthur still can’t respond. Paula gets a small look of sadness in her eyes and says very slowly, “What do you like to eat, honey?” Arthur can’t stand her betrayal a moment longer. With the strength of a warrior king, he rushes out of Picnic Leftovers mumbling “whore” under his breath as he tears past the register.
Arthur’s bad day continues at work. He is six minutes late, which his manager notices. The night shift crossing guard has left sticky Mountain Dew ringlets all over his control desk. By lunchtime, Arthur can barely look at his screen. He has never been this distracted. His job seemed crucial to how the city functioned, but now he doesn’t see the point. With an hour left, a young man jay-walk and Arthur feels there is little left to live for. Instead of looking at the screen, Arthur routinely presses the red light and walk sign every six minutes. This is strictly against City Department of Pedestrians and Municipal Lights’ protocol, but Arthur doesn’t care. That is, until a car stops in the middle of the intersection.
Filled with rage for the blatant disrespect, Arthur snags his phone off his desk and dials a City Department of Pedestrians and Municipal Lights’ agent on the street. But then he notices the hair. Long, red hair under the boxy black car’s front right tire, spooled across the asphalt in all directions. Then Arthur sees legs, pale and twisted, barely visible over the front of the car. A limp right hand and a purpling elbow jut from under the wheel like a bad Halloween decoration. The driver is out of the car now, making a phone call through tears and vomiting. Arthur drops the phone. With absolute terror he realizes the walk sign is illuminated. His stop light remains off.
Arthur attends the victim’s funeral. He found her obituary in the newspaper four days after the accident. That is what the City Department of Pedestrians and Municipal Lights is calling it, an accident. Arthur considers it closer to murder but is too scared to say it out loud. After breaking up with Paula, losing his job would end him. Her name was Marlow Meadows. She was thirty-seven years old and had been walking home from her shift as a receptionist for the City Department of Pipelines and Clogs. Arthur hates knowing she was a good civil servant. He had hoped her obituary would reveal she was a runaway convict or an active Zumba participant—something unsavory. However, she seemed lovely. Arthur’s only comfort is that Marlow Meadows was a single woman with no children.
Marlow’s service is held at a funeral home next to the city capital. Arthur finds this very classy and dignified. When he arrives, he is greeted with an enlarged photograph of Marlow. She had great big teeth, a fluffy triangle of blonde hair, and a mole on her left cheek, just below her eye line. She looked happy. This made Arthur feel happy as well. After thoroughly committing her image to memory, Arthur makes his way to the nondenominational chapel in the back of the funeral home. He is surprised to find only two other gentlemen at the service. Arthur knows he has not arrived early because he memorized Marlow’s obituary, including the service details. He sits quietly in the first pew, across the aisle from a solemn man in a navy blue suit. The man must not own a black suit and for that Arthur pities him. After a moment, the third man steps forward and announces he will be leading the service. He also boorishly notes that the family paid for the cheapest service, thus mourners will have fifteen minutes to say their goodbyes before they will be asked to leave.
The funeral consists of a reading of three poems from Classic Poems for the Dead: An Anthology and two Bible verses, none of which Arthur had heard before. After the readings, the funeral host says in a grave voice “May you rest in peace, Marlene Meadows… you both now have eight minutes to finish your grieving. If you are interested in riding the D.T.B. bus, the next one will depart in seven minutes from the stop outside of the capital.” The funeral host then leaves.
Arthur peaks at the remaining man, who has neither moved nor spoken since Arthur entered. He is shocked to find the man already peering at him, mouth open as if he is about to speak. Arthur is sure the man knows exactly who he is, that he killed kind and professional Marlow Meadows. Arthur prepares for the worst reaction possible, which he more than deserves.
“You must think I’m a horrible person,” the man says. This was not what Arthur had anticipated. “I don’t have a very long lunch break. And I don’t think Marlow would have wanted more than this. But I’m sure your coming would have meant the world to her.”
Arthur is not sure who this man thinks he is, but he is not brave enough to correct him. And since Arthur has been given permission, he decides to think that this man is indeed a horrible person.
“I’m sorry,” the stranger carries on, “I am Marlow’s stepbrother, Kevin. She probably didn’t mention me, but I know she loved you. She always talked fondly of her ex-boyfriend whenever we spoke. Although that wasn’t often… ” His speech fades as he checks his wrist watch. Decidedly, Kevin stands up and marches to Arthur, extending a closed fist. Arthur cautiously raises an open palm and accepts what Kevin is handing him. It is a small tarnished, silver key.
“To her apartment on Clarke Street, by the hat shop. But, of course, you know that… I don’t—I didn’t know Marlow well. I’m not comfortable going through her things and I’m the only family she has left. Her finances are in order and everything. I just thought you’d like to be the one to clean it all out. Do everything right by her…”
Arthur isn’t sure what to say. At any moment the real ex-boyfriend will surely burst through the nondenominational chapel door and Kevin will know Arthur is a murderer not the beloved ex-boyfriend. However, the door remains closed and Kevin drops his hand to his side.
“Thanks so much. I am so sorry for your loss.” Kevin really does look sorry. He turns around and sort of run-shuffles to the exit. Arthur feels relieved that if anything, Kevin will catch the next bus.
Not sure what else to do, Arthur exits the funeral home and heads to Clarke Street. Fortunately, there is only one hat shop on Clarke Street. There’s a small apartment building to the right of it, situated on the corner of Clarke Street and Petunia Street. Arthur likes this corner because it is run by Sally Ocal who is very good at her job. The apartment has a small, rusted mailbox, with each occupant listed by last name and unit number. Meadows 302 is the fourth mailbox in the second row. Quickly, Arthur scurries up the open-air steps to the third floor. He does not want anyone to stop and inquire about his presence. The key fits into apartment 302’s lock with a smooth click. Quietly, he opens Marlow’s door. To his relief, it is tidy. To the right of the door is a small kitchenette with plastic cups on a drying rack by the sink. Ahead is a small sitting area with one chair facing a small television. Behind the chair, a murphy bed clings to the wall, light pink sheets visible on either side. To the left is a white wall lined with Marlowe’s sensible shoes. On top of her small purple dresser is a bottle of perfume, a set of pearl earrings, and a silver toenail clipper.
Arthur enters with confidence that there are no rotting bodies or jam band poster collections to discover. In fact—he quite likes this space. It has more natural light than his apartment due to the windows along the far wall. Arthur imagines himself touring this apartment with Marlow and saying something like “Great price for the square footage Marls… and a nice location! I say you take it.” Then Marlow’s realtor would echo Arthur’s sentiments, saying, “Marlow, listen to your smart friend. He has great taste!” Then Marlow would blush and nod. Of course, the realtor would have known they were not just friends.
Arthur rifles through the drawers in the kitchen, assessing how long the apartment will take to be cleaned out. He is surprised to find the fridge completely bare. Perhaps Marlow enjoyed eating out. Perhaps her death was perfect timing. But Arthur’s shock turns to overwhelming joy when he opens the freezer to find row upon row of frozen chicken potpies. They are not the Picnic Leftovers’ brand but a nicer quality frozen potpie from the non-discount grocery store, Barrels. Suddenly, overwhelmed with grief, Arthur stumbles across the apartment to the singular chair and sinks down.
What a wonderful woman Marlow had been. Everything at once begins to make sense. Marlow had been intended to be Arthur’s great once-in-a-lifetime love. And he murdered her. This delights Arthur in an unexpected way. How lucky is he to have found his perfect woman! In the scheme of life, isn’t timing is inconsequential? Arthur had been loving the wrong woman, wasting his time, nervous she wouldn’t love him back. Now, sitting in Marlow’s small, clean, potpie-filled apartment, he has found the love of his life! Arthur will never be bothered by jealousy or insecurity as long as he lives because Marlow will never love anyone else. They were destined for each other. Arthur also lost his entire family at an early age. He also ate potpie for every meal. And even after her death, he feels certain no one understood him quite as well as Marlow would have.
Of course, the love of Arthur’s life has a slightly softer name than something as clunky and intense as Marlow. His lover needs to be someone gentle and proper. Smart and kind. Someone who never raises her voice and shares several inside jokes with Arthur. This was of course who Marlow was; her name just doesn’t match her personality. Looking around the apartment, Arthur sees a small, framed photo of a Marlow sitting in a field of flowers propped on the dresser. Of course! What a silly inside joke Marlow and Arthur had! One of Marlow’s favorite things about Arthur is that he called her Daisy! And soon, she never wanted to go by anything else. Arthur is sure Marlow felt lost her whole life until she realized she was Arthur’s Daisy.
Arthur leaves Daisy’s apartment carrying two chicken potpies and a second photograph of her he found in a kitchen drawer. When he arrives home, he calls the City Department of Pedestrians and Municipal Lights to let his manager know he will be absent the next day. When asked why, Arthur simply states that his girlfriend has passed away.
“Oh god, Arthur I’m so sorry,” cries Jen Phillips, the day shift manager, “take as much time as you need. You’ve really had such a terrible week… with the accident and now this. Let me know if you need anything. Are you sure you don’t need a few more days?”
Arthur insists he will be fine.
The next morning, he wakes up excited to spend more time in Daisy’s apartment. He packs several large bags into one large bag to carry the chicken potpies and whatever else he wants back to his apartment. Lastly, he stuffs a framed picture of himself, which had previously sat above his bed, into the bag of bags. Arthur figures Daisy would enjoy such a lovely picture of him.
Arthur imagines it will take less than a day to clean out Daisy’s apartment. Most of her things he will transport to his similarly small and tidy potpie apartment. The rest he will throw away. However, Arthur quickly realizes one day is an underestimation. When he arrives, he thinks how how silly it is that Daisy had only one chair. Where would Arthur have eaten his dinner every night? Certainly not on the bed or standing up. Arthur supposes that Daisy could have eaten standing up but that seems rude. Arthur isn’t sure such a soft and nice woman like Daisy could have stood for so long. So Arthur has to walk all the way back to his apartment to retrieve his one sitting chair and then march that chair the sixteen blocks back to Daisy’s apartment. Afterward, he was tired and hungry, so Arthur ate a chicken potpie and took a nap on their bed. He figures that being in mourning is a good excuse for his lazy day.
By the late afternoon, all he had managed was sticking the remaining chicken potpies in one large bag, now melting in the corner of the room, the gray fabric darkening under the wet cardboard. Eventually it grows dark and Arthur decides it is a good time to give up and go home. He has work in the morning and for the next few mornings after that, so he will have to come back on the next second Thursday.
When Arthur arrives at the City Department of Pedestrians and Municipal Lights the following morning, he skips his usual aimless standing in the break room and goes straight to his dark office. He cleans the Mountain Dew can ringlets and gently sets the photo of Daisy on his desk. In this photo, Daisy is giving a closed smile to the camera and her eyes are slightly thinned, as if she is about to laugh at a joke. Arthur loves that he could make Daisy laugh.
Later, Frank Culos, waltzes into Arthur’s office. Immediately he sees Arthur’s photo of Daisy. Letting out a low whistle, Frank asks, “Say, Arthur, who’s that? You got a lady?” Arthur nods. He is not interested in sharing Daisy with Frank. But then Frank makes some inappropriate comments about her looking very nice and how he would love to meet her someday.
“She’s dead, Frank,” Arthur mumbles.
“Oh Arthur, I am sorry to hear that. God, that must be why you missed work yesterday. I feel like an ass for not knowing.” Arthur enjoys how sorry Frank sounds. He likes how all of Frank’s attention is now on him and away from Daisy.
“Thanks Frank, it hasn’t been easy. I loved her very much,” Arthur says confidently. Frank retreats quickly and Arthur feels triumphant. He now has something Frank doesn’t—a dead girlfriend. Soon everyone at the City Department of Pedestrians and Municipal Lights knows. Coworkers Arthur has never spoken to are stopping by his office. After lunch, Jimmy Panor offers to switch his five-way intersection—one of only three in the city—with Arthur. Jimmy explains he originally got the intersection from Dan Renerport during his divorce, and that the excitement helped take his mind off the bad things. Arthur humbly accepts the switch; he is tired of staring at the corner of 12th and Garden Street and its bad memories. It was exciting when Arthur didn’t have anything important in his life, but now Arthur has Daisy.
At the end of the day, Marcy Campos—who works in the municipal light testing wing—stops by Arthur’s office to ask if she can help with any of the unpleasant tasks. “Like cleaning out her stuff,” Marcy says. “My mom died last winter. It took me days to even be able to look at her room.”
Arthur, who didn’t enjoy emptying the kitchen drawers yesterday, accepts her offer with thanks. He hands her the rusting silver key along with a piece of paper scribbled with Daisy’s address and a list of items he would like to keep: the pearl earrings, the perfume, and both sitting chairs. The rest he instructs to be thrown away.
Arthur expects work to go back to normal in a few weeks’ time, but it doesn’t. Dan never asks for the five-way intersection back. In fact, after two months, Arthur is given another intersection, although smaller—the corner of 21st and Venus Street. Six months after that, Jen Phillips decides to leave her position and recommends Arthur for the promotion.
“There is no one more dedicated than Arthur,” she tells the hiring board. “His wife died and he continued coming to work and doing a great job.” The girlfriend-to-wife switch happened three months after Daisy’s death. No one noticed. Arthur is hired as the daytime manager. He is given his own office with big windows and not a single Mountain Dew stain. At night, he has a new chair to prop his feet on while eating his potpie and watching television. Arthur no longer frequents Picnic Leftovers. Paula heard about his loss, because he told her, and offered her condolences. Arthur was disgusted by her coquettish behavior towards a widower. Instead, he now shops at Barrels. He feels closer to Daisy every time he’s in the freezer aisle. It’s his favorite part of the day.