13
Columbus Day comes up as cold as Christmas. I listen to the weather forecast the night before, to see how it’ll be for the beach. “High winds, unseasonably low temperatures,” the guy says. He would.
I get up at eight-thirty the next morning, though, figuring he’d be wrong and it would be a nice sunny day. I slip on my pants and shirt and go downstairs with Cat to have a look out. Cat slides out and is halfway down the stoop when a blast of cold wind hits him. His tail goes up and he spooks back in between my legs. I push the door shut against the icy wind.
Mom is sitting in the kitchen drinking her tea and she says, “My goodness, why are you up so early on a holiday? Do you feel sick?”
“Nah, I’m all right.” I pour out a cup of coffee to warm my hands on and dump in three or four spoons of sugar.
“Davey, have you got a chill? You don’t look to me as if you felt quite right.”
“Mom, for Pete’s sake, it’s cold out! I feel fine.”
“Well, you don’t have to go out. Why don’t you just go back to bed and snooze and read a bit, and I’ll bring you some breakfast.”