Alice Kirkland wasn't an easy woman to love, but love her Alfred F. Jones did. Most people would claim that the British woman wasn't very social, or nice, or even pleasant to be around, but Alfred knew better. She didn't deem those people worthy, so they didn't deserve to see Alice and got Miss Kirkland instead.
Alfred knew Alice, however, and he knew what a truly special person she was. They argued constantly, but only because they were both headstrong and he loved that about her. She demanded manners at the dinner table, only to make sure that he knew the proper way to behave, and even though it annoyed him, he loved that about her. She was snobbish and rude and sharp-tongued, but he loved that about her. All the bad made the good so much better - the way she smiled shyly at him even after all this time, the small gestures she made sure to do to make his tiring day better, her constant attempts at cooking a nice meal for him when he would come home from work, and the way she kissed him like he was the only man she would ever love. She was the woman of his dreams and he wouldn't trade it for the world.
However, she had one vice that he wish he could do any with, the only thing he would change about her – Alice Kirkland, self-proclaimed lady and picture of refinement in public, was not a morning person by any stretch of the imagination. She was grouchy and grumpy and could probably give the Grinch a run of his money. He could remember the first time dealing with her, trying his best to sound cheery and pick her up … that didn't end well for him, and Alice spent the next 4 hours apologizing as he was incapacitated on the couch. He forgave her, of course, and decided instead to study his British lady. After about a year, his labor of love hit fruition.
At about six in the morning, he would put a pot of tea on to boil and would butter her toast for her breakfast of toast and grape jelly. As he slid the bread into the broiler of the over, she detested toast from a toaster, he quickly fetched the morning paper waiting at the door and placed it on the table for her. By now toast was done, so he would grab the jelly from the fridge and get the toast out to spread jelly on it, sitting the finished product on Alice's favorite china plate. He would pour the tea in the matching tea cup and head of in search of her slippers. Once finding them, he'd set them beside the dining chair and wait for her to wake up, which never took long. He used to tease her mercilessly about being an early-rising morning hater.
She'd watch in with shaking footsteps, rubbing the sleep from her eyes and grumbling beneath her breath. She would ungracefully plop down into her chair, grab the paper with a ferocity that to this day scares him, down her tea and scarf down her toast, and shove her feet into her slippers. It didn't always work, but it was worth it when it did. She would look up at him, shyly peeking above the newspaper and whisper a soft "Thank you", lean across the table and give him a soft peek on the cheek, then precede to tell him that she's sorry for being such a grouch. He'd then correct her that she's the world's worst grouch in the morning, which would earn him a punch in the arm and an embarrassed look on her face.
He didn't mind, because he loved her, and she loved him.
Alice Kirkland wasn't an easy woman to love, but love her Alfred F. Jones did.