Springtime In Happyland by S.A. Greene
Winter had been brutal and we didn’t venture outside, but now the cherry trees were blossoming and the air was soft and hopeful, and the heads appearing above garden gates and mailboxes seemed to be smiling us along our way to the park.
‘Is that Miss Kozlowski?’ Alfie asked, pointing to a pleasant young face beaming out at us above the municipal recycling bins.
I’d often wondered why she didn’t change her name.
‘Wow! You recognised her! Clever boy!’
Then I pointed out the chocolate van over towards the park entrance. He’s five, for God’s sake.
The queue was long and I knew it wouldn’t be real chocolate, but I wanted to make Alfie happy. My own earlier cheerfulness, however, was dissipating. It’s always difficult when you’ve known them personally, although to be fair Miss Kozlowski’s lovely smile had been skillfully preserved by whoever did the head.
A woman in the queue bent down towards Alfie.
‘What blue eyes you’ve got, little man. What’s your name?’
‘Alfred’. I’d trained him to use his full name in public.
‘A fine traditional name’, she said, smiling. ‘And are you having a happy day in Happyland, Alfred?’
‘I rec-king-nised Miss Kozlowski!’ he announced proudly. ‘I love Miss Kozlowski!’
The woman blanched and turned away. Dark mutterings rumbled along the queue.
‘Miss Kozlowski was a brilliant teacher! She loved every single child in that classroom and they adored her!’ This is what I wanted to say to them. I can’t tell you how much I wanted to scream this. And also ‘Fuck you! Fuck you ALL! Dickheads!’
The sun felt fierce now and I was glad to reach the front of the line where I could steady myself against the chocolate van and make the world resolve itself into some sort of focus.
I bought two Cocoa-Yummy bars. Alfie was the only child there, and a little crowd gathered round and watched indulgently as he took his first bite.
‘Do you like it?’ someone asked.
Alfie nodded like a good boy and people murmured, ‘who wouldn’t?’, ‘absolutely delicious’, and ‘Happyland’s finest’. It seemed he’d been forgiven.
I bit a square off mine. It was neither cocoa nor yummy. It squatted uneasily on my tongue, synthetic and toxic.
‘What do you think?’ a man’s voice boomed out.
He was talking to me. I tongued some unmelting Cocoa-Yummy from my upper incisors.
‘She’s taking her time about it’, someone joked in a way that wasn’t really joking.
Everybody was watching.
‘Mmmm’ I said.
Alfie looked up at me. I smiled at him. He didn’t smile back. His chubby little face harboured the gaze of a future Alfred: compliant, vigilant, accusing.
‘Absolutely delicious,’ I proclaimed. ‘Happyland’s finest!’
And the cherry blossoms nodded and the man with the booming voice smiled and the crowd smiled and the heads mounted on the watchtowers and concertina wire looked as if they were about to burst into song and I smiled harder and then Alfred smiled too, and then I believed myself. I can’t tell you how good that chocolate tasted, when I believed myself.
S.A. Greene’s short fiction has appeared in New Flash Fiction Review before, as well as in trampset, Mslexia, Blink-Ink, Gone Lawn, Liars’ League, Fictive Dream, Janus, Ellipsis Zine, Maudlin House, The Phare, Flash Flood, Temple In A City, Gooseberry Pie Lit., Free Flash Fiction, and a number of print anthologies.
