Winter Season

Uninvited guest

“For what?” Her smile was warm.

“This afternoon. I haven’t played in the snow,” he thought for a moment. “In a long long time.”

“You’re welcome.” Her eyes sparkled. “I love snow, winter, rain, it’s magical to me.” She sighed. “I know that sounds silly.”

“No, not at all.” He blushed. “Not at all.”

“Do you not own a t.v.?”

“There’s one in the guest room. I don’t watch a lot of t.v. I have this condition, that if the t.v. is on, I’m watchin’ it…”

She interrupted him, wiggling her fingers at him as she talked. “The house could burn down around you and you’d never know it?”

“How’d you know?”

She laughed, slapping her knee, “I’m the same way. It could be fishin’ and I’m watchin’ it. Golf, it doesn’t matter. The president of the United States could be sittin’ in my living room, but if that t.v.’s on, he doesn’t exist.”

He smiled, “oblivious to the world around me.”

“It must be like a human bug zapper.”

He chuckled, “I’d never thought of it that way.” A beeping noise went off in the kitchen. “Dinner.” He helped her out of the floor. This time when they touched he felt his right arm tingle all the way to his shoulder. Right, he told himself. Not even. That only happens in the movies.

“Your fire place, wood or gas?” She asked.

“Gas. But I love the sound of wood, so I paid the extra for the sound package.” He blushed, “why?”

“Just being nosy.”

“It used to be a wood burner but when my aunt got sick the wood smoke choked her so we put in gas.”

“COPD?”

“One of many health problems.”

They were busy eating their soup and enjoying a quiet dinner when someone pounded at the door. Oscar jumped. Esther thought it was weird, but said nothing. It was a good thing his spoon was empty or he would have been wearing soup. “I’ll be right back.” He excused himself from the table. From his reaction, she figured he knew who was at the door.

“Least I not beat the door down dis time.” The voice roared.

Okay, Esther thought. Scar-rie

“So ja get city trashed moved in?”

What? She almost choked on her cornbread. How dare him. He doesn’t even know me. Trash!

This little man waltzed into the kitchen as if Esther wasn’t even sitting there. As he walked past the table, the odor from this fellow about knocked her out of her chair. It was a mixture of beer, sweat, and cheap cologne. She now knew what $3.00 worth of bathroom Polo from a truck stop smelt like. His clothing looked like they hadn’t been washed in months. Esther could appreciate a work uniform. But to not wash one at all was a lack of pride.

Oscar stood in the door way, his head hung in shame. Little man stirred in the soup pot sniffing as the steam wafted up and out. “You got maw’s cookin’ knows how but I got dad’s good looks.” He wiggled with delight. “You sure you not one of dem homo’s? Sum times you act just like a girl. Take the ways you spruced up this house and the way you dress.” He clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Esther couldn’t stand this little man. Even if it meant losing her new friend, she had to say something. “There isn’t anything sexier than a man that knows his way around a kitchen. That old saying the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach; for us females it’s, ‘honey you cook dinner tonight and you can have anything you want.’ And as far as the decorating goes, what can be sexier than a man that can pick out his own drapes then shake the dust off yours.”

Oscar got a private joy and charge from her comments.

Winter Season