Take It With Me
Children's Story
When Tom finally woke up for good, Kitty was already up. He was lying on his back, alone, and Kitty was sitting out on the balcony, wrapped in a blanket. He stretched out, closing his eyes again and enjoying the empty bed for a moment.
“Arrrgghh, what time is it?” he mumbled, wiggling his toes. He pulled himself out of bed and checked his watch, which lay on the bedside table. Ten after ten. Not too bad. Scratching his stomach, he padded over to the balcony, and tapped gently on the glass. Kitty turned around and smiled. Her hair was all fluffed out and she had two bright spots on her cheeks from the cold.
“What are you doing out there?” he asked, cracking the door open a bit.
“Just… thinking. Enjoying the cool air,” she answered, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
“Oh, okay… aren’t you cold, though?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Kitty said, looking back at the courtyard. A woman in a long pink bathrobe was walking a dog around the sidewalk, and a man in a long black coat was out for an early morning smoke. She could hear traffic coming over from the street, and birds were beginning to chirp. The south was always slightly magical during winter. Kitty was sure that snow was incredible in its own way, but there was something about the south. Everything that was normally muggy and foggy and hot was crisp and clean, and even the air smelled different. Granted, though, there was something to be said for northern winters. Kitty’s father had taken them skiing in Aspen one time, and the cold there was different. Dry. It was almost easy to keep warm. Here, in Louisiana and Mississippi and Alabama, in the deep south, the cold was wet. It was a cold that sank into your bones. Kitty shivered as the blanket slipped and her thigh brushed against the cold concrete of the balcony floor.
“You drink coffee?” Tom asked, his teeth chattering as a gust of cold air made its way through the crack.
“Not really…” Kitty said, pulling the blanket closer to her.
“Well, I’m going to walk around the corner to the diner and get you and me both something hot and something to eat. You stay put, okay?” Tom said, eager to get out and get a cup of coffee. Coffee and a cigarette. Breakfast of champions. Pair it with a donut, and you’re made.
“Okay. I’ll be here,” Kitty said, propping her chin on her knees. Tom slid the door shut. After a moment, Kitty looked behind her.
Tom had his back turned to her. He was taking off his shirt.
Kitty’s heart jumped, and she turned around, blushing.
“You can’t do this, Kitty,” she muttered to herself, resisting the temptation to turn around again. “You have Joe. And Tom is technically forty years older than you. Which is not good. Also, you’re gonna go home soon.”
Kitty hoped like anything that she would go home soon. She wanted to be home. She felt like an orphan here. No father, no mother... nothing but Tom. But home... home, with Joe and her parents and siblings and grandparents… well, if anything, it was much less complicated than here.
Anything was less complicated than here.
“Arrrgghh, what time is it?” he mumbled, wiggling his toes. He pulled himself out of bed and checked his watch, which lay on the bedside table. Ten after ten. Not too bad. Scratching his stomach, he padded over to the balcony, and tapped gently on the glass. Kitty turned around and smiled. Her hair was all fluffed out and she had two bright spots on her cheeks from the cold.
“What are you doing out there?” he asked, cracking the door open a bit.
“Just… thinking. Enjoying the cool air,” she answered, pulling the blanket tighter around her.
“Oh, okay… aren’t you cold, though?”
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” Kitty said, looking back at the courtyard. A woman in a long pink bathrobe was walking a dog around the sidewalk, and a man in a long black coat was out for an early morning smoke. She could hear traffic coming over from the street, and birds were beginning to chirp. The south was always slightly magical during winter. Kitty was sure that snow was incredible in its own way, but there was something about the south. Everything that was normally muggy and foggy and hot was crisp and clean, and even the air smelled different. Granted, though, there was something to be said for northern winters. Kitty’s father had taken them skiing in Aspen one time, and the cold there was different. Dry. It was almost easy to keep warm. Here, in Louisiana and Mississippi and Alabama, in the deep south, the cold was wet. It was a cold that sank into your bones. Kitty shivered as the blanket slipped and her thigh brushed against the cold concrete of the balcony floor.
“You drink coffee?” Tom asked, his teeth chattering as a gust of cold air made its way through the crack.
“Not really…” Kitty said, pulling the blanket closer to her.
“Well, I’m going to walk around the corner to the diner and get you and me both something hot and something to eat. You stay put, okay?” Tom said, eager to get out and get a cup of coffee. Coffee and a cigarette. Breakfast of champions. Pair it with a donut, and you’re made.
“Okay. I’ll be here,” Kitty said, propping her chin on her knees. Tom slid the door shut. After a moment, Kitty looked behind her.
Tom had his back turned to her. He was taking off his shirt.
Kitty’s heart jumped, and she turned around, blushing.
“You can’t do this, Kitty,” she muttered to herself, resisting the temptation to turn around again. “You have Joe. And Tom is technically forty years older than you. Which is not good. Also, you’re gonna go home soon.”
Kitty hoped like anything that she would go home soon. She wanted to be home. She felt like an orphan here. No father, no mother... nothing but Tom. But home... home, with Joe and her parents and siblings and grandparents… well, if anything, it was much less complicated than here.
Anything was less complicated than here.