A Melancholy Town: Part the Second

Where We Never Smile

Jul 16, 2026

The Moss couple settled into their new home quite quickly. Having brought little with them, their first couple weeks were spent unpacking the few items they had kept and purchasing furniture and other decorations for their new home. Mildew had taken the time to introduce herself to her neighbors and the others on the street, as well as to as many of the women at the town’s church as she could.

“It’s beginning to feel like home,” Peat said, opening a can of beer and sitting down in his new rocker.

Mildew also allowed herself a rare treat, pouring herself a shot of whiskey. “Not quite home, but it is getting homey,” she remarked. “Though I will say it is nice to have simple furnishings and a full kitchen.”

“We can finally sleep in a bed again,” Peat added. “After we set up the new chairs today our house will be ready for company. Say, when are they coming over?”

“This afternoon,” Mildew replied. They had invited a woman and her sister over who Mildew had gotten along with from one of her introductions. Well, it hadn’t been the most stimulation conversation, but they hadn’t shunned her and acted like they wanted to get away. Mildew had jumped on the chance to invite them over. She knew she couldn’t force relationships, but she wanted to make enough chances for some genuine friendships to grow. One point in common was the whale bone crutch, which the sisters appeared to—or said they did—adored. They had had ancestors who had carved whalebone jewelry for their wives who had in turn passed the pieces on to their children and so on, till they had come to these two women.

“That soon?” Peat said with a sigh. Standing up, he went to where the chairs had been unceremoniously deposited by the delivery truck. “Time to put you where you belong.” Not being one to care much where furniture went, and knowing that Mildew had a vision for the house, he let her guide him and tell him where to put them.

“I’m sorry I can’t help you,” she said, hobbling after him. Even though her leg was lame, with her crutch she was as fast as a rattlesnake, and woe was the man who earned her wrath, for she struck as fast and as hard as one. “Can you put this one here?” she said pointing to a corner.

“Sure.” He was breathing hard, but he was always happy to help his wife.

“Can you turn it a little more,” she asked, hovering around anxiously.

“I want a bigger TV,” Peat said, turning the chair the wrong direction.

“The other way.”

“Oh, sorry.”

In no time the chairs were set up and Mildew was satisfied with the house as it was. “I’d still like to get some more furnishings,” she said wistfully. “It’s still too empty.”

“We can do that later—I want to shower before our company comes.” With ten minutes before the women were set to show, Peat disappeared. That was probably an excuse to get spruced up, she bet he wouldn’t even show his face, and doubted he’d get along with them anyway. Peat had a habit of rubbing people who didn’t know him the wrong way, whether he meant it or not. She sped through the house making several last moment adjustments before their company arrived.

Soon the doorbell rung, Mildew wanted to get that adjusted as she hated the sound it made, and she ran to the door as fast as he crutch would allow. Opening it, she breathlessly welcomed the two women.

They were in their sixties or seventies and were dressed in outdated dresses, most likely ones their mothers wore Mildew mused. Lost in thought for a moment, she remarked silently to herself how everything in this town seemed behind everywhere else from one to several decades.

“Thank you for having us,” said Lucy in monotone, the elder of the two sisters.

“How quant,” said Lizzie in the same monotone. “Our sister would have loved the way you decorate. The two of you would have gotten along well.”

Though Mildew was sure the two women meant what they were saying, neither of them showed any sort of cheerfulness or emotion. Just like the realtor, these woman were as melancholy as the town they lived in. She didn’t take notice of this at the time, however.

She snapped herself back to the present. “Would you come in? Please, make yourselves at home.”

The women did as instructed and sat themselves down in the sparsely, but tastefully furnished and decorated living room. Mildew followed them in after shutting and locking the doors. The door had had no lock when they had purchased the home, so Mildew had made Peat get a lock first thing before anything else.

“Would you like something to drink?” Mildew asked them. “Coffee—I don’t know if it is too late for that—or tea, or perhaps something harder?”

Lizzie was about to speak up when Lucy ungracefully, and without any subtly, elbowed her hard in the ribs. “Much too late for coffee,” Lucy said, “but some tea would be just fine.”

“Chamomile, I’m afraid, is all I have at the moment,” Mildew apologized.

“I don’t much notice the difference anyway dear,” said Lucy still in monotone.

Mildew bustled about, getting the tea and managing to bring it to them with her one free arm. She was a little surprised by the fact that neither of them once offered a hand to help her. Not everyone did, though it wasn’t unusual for a guest to offer her a helping hand when she looked like she was having trouble. In fact it happened more often than not. But these ladies just sat there with cold faces, observing her silently, and accepted the tea with thankless gratitude.

Mildew tried to hold a conversation with them, but everything felt forced, even their responses seemed ingenuine. Despite this, they didn’t appear, even to Mildew, as if they were putting on an act or were desperate to get away but still trying to be polite. The poor woman was growing more confused the longer they stayed. This continued till Mildew asked the last question.

“You mentioned your sister would have liked my decoration,” she asked. “Did she pass away?”

“You could say that,” said Lucy with more emotion and life, though neither sorrow nor joy, than she had showed till this moment.

“Did she die,” Mildew began, “or is she cut off from you? Like dead to you? I’m sorry, I can’t help but feel a little confused.”

“She’s dead,” Lizzie assured her.

“I’m so sorry to hear that,” Mildew said. “When did she pass away?”

“She died last week,” said Lucy as if it were nothing more than casually mentioning the time of day or which particular supermarket has the best apples.

“I will be following her shortly,” Lizzie added humorouslessly.

Mildew didn’t know what to say following that and they sat in awkward silence. Soon, as if a silent timer had gone off, the two old women got up, excused themselves, and left without ceremony. Still feeling confused, awkward, and a little nervous, Mildew stayed where she sat and didn’t see them out. She had a feeling from the way the old women had acted that they wouldn’t be offended. As she had expected, Peat had not shown up.

And also as expected, she found him with another beer watching his favorite show. “You never showed up,” Mildew accused, ignoring her earlier thoughts.

“You saw them,” Peat said, turning the television off. That was what Mildew liked about Peat. He gave her his attention, unlike some boyfriends she had had in the past.

“And what does that mean?” She was getting annoyed. Something was putting her on edge, maybe it was how she had handled her guests, though she know it wasn’t that since she had been feeling this way for a while. Whatever it was, she knew it was wrong to take it out on Peat.

“What I mean is,” he got up and gave her a peck on the cheek, “that they killed the mood just by being there, and not in the way a boring or awkward person does either. No way in the Ohio River I was going to sit through that hell on earth. Besides, I’m no good when it comes to talking to old ladies.”

“So you left me to handle it?” she said sharply.

“If I had known you would have felt like that I could have bared it,” he apologized.

“But you didn’t!” she snapped. Then she dropped her head. “I’m sorry Peat, you didn’t do nothing wrong. I just feel on edge.”

“I’ve been feeling the same way.”

“I regret coming here.” Mildew plopped herself down on the couch and turned on the TV, but not feeling like watching anything, she turned it off. She was still on edge and now felt bad for yelling at her husband, but she was thankful she hadn’t said anything worse. “This town ain’t right, Peat.”

“Mildew,” he said gently as he stoof in front of her, “somethings on your mind.”

“This town—” but he cut her off.

“Not that, something else, I can tell.”

“You wanted an apology?” she growled, her frustration rising again.

“Not that, but something is bothering you. I can tell.”

“You’re right. I don’t feel well,” she said. Mildew held up a hand to stop him from speaking. “I’m not sick, I just feel off. I’m on edge, I’m anxious, I’m nervous and I’m taking it out on you. But I think its this town.”

“Don’t blame the town for what you said to me.” He chuckled.

“Oh, I didn’t!” She swatted a semi playful hand at him and missed. “What I meant was that I think its the town making me on edge. I can’t think for the world what it is, though.” They sat in silence, both wondering how best to proceed.

“This town isn’t normal,” Peat said after a minute.

“It isn’t normal. Church ain’t right, either. Some of those things Father said didn’t sit right with me. They go against what we’ve been told all our life. It isn’t outright explicit, mind you, but like certain odd little things that make me feel strange. And I want to go somewhere else but there isn’t anywhere else. And the people—I’ve tried to be friendly, but you saw them.”

“It ain’t the church people that’s like that,” Peat remarked. “I’ve noticed it too. That woman who showed us the house was the same way.”

“But I’ve seen her at church.”

“I wasn’t done. It’s not just them, but everyone. The people at my potential workplace, and the people at the supermarket, the people you see on the street—no one smiles, ever.”

Peat had hit the nail on the head. “That’s what has been bothering me,” she said, able to express what was wrong now that she had words for it. “Well, some of it. But there is no joy in this town. No one is ever happy or anything. I don’t even know if I’ve even seen any sorrow, either. Their sister died last week and they didn’t show anything. It’s like this town is devoid of all life and emotion, and everyone is an empty husk.”

She was pacing about furiously now, deep in thought. Why hadn’t she been able to notice that earlier? But before she could think any further, she heard Peat call out and try to grab her at the same moment she walked into the chair. Tripping on the crutch, she and the chair went down and she slammed her head hard against the wall.

She lay there dazed for several moments while Peat was kneeling next to her, yelling at her. He had panicked and had no idea what to do. She sat up, rubbing her head which was very sore. She blinked hard several times, hoping the pain went away soon. “Am I bleeding?” she asked.

Looking like he was about to throw up—Peat always grew faint at the mere mentioning or thought of blood—Peat began inspecting her head. Then he fainted.

“PEAT!!!” she screamed. Worried she might be in a worse state than him, she collected her crutch, thankful it wasn’t broken, and with a sprained ankle, she limped to the bathroom where she got out a mirror to inspect the back of her head. It wasn’t anything serious, nothing she’d need stitches for, just a single drop of blood barely beginning to form. “Oh Peat, I love you, you silly goose.”

Despite a large lump, her head was fine, or so she hoped, but she’d have to go in for sure for her ankle. The pain which had been disguised at first by her fear and the knock to her head, had no come into the light, and she hoped it wasn’t broken. She hobbled back as best she could with two bad legs to where Peat had come too and was now wiping his mouth. He had been sick.

“Hopefully you made it to a toilet before throwing up,” she said rolling her eyes. “One drop of blood and the man faints and throws up.”

“Never mind that now,” Peat said, pointing.

Ignoring him, she went on, “I need to see the doctor. I hurt my ankle pretty bad. And I’m worried about my head, too.”