“This is a REALLY good couch,” Kit Kat said to Samson. She was at his home in the frou frou room. Of course, Samson had just normal furniture in there with a big screen television and every console game connected to it. She looked around the room and remembered where each piece of fancy furniture her mother had in that home. The fainting couch was there in front of the window. The chairs she reupholstered were over there across from it. The house hadn’t changed since Samson had bought it, just the furniture.
It was a quiet evening and they were reading Crazy Eddie’s journals. Kit Kat was on one side of the couch with her back to the armrest and her feet stretched out in the middle. Samson was on the other side of the couch, his feet barely touching hers. He smiled, and a jolt of happiness passed through her body.
He replied, “Random and Sierra bought this couch for me.” He patted it like a good horse. “Feels better with you on it, though.” They had catalogued every one of Crazy Eddie’s journals. The cataloguing became much easier two or three stacks in, because he used dating as recently as two years ago. Samson and Kit Kat had started at the beginning, reading his earliest journals, which stretched back to the mid-Sixties BEFORE Crazy Eddie went to Vietnam.
For the record, Vietnam didn’t drive Crazy Eddie crazy, but it certainly exacerbated his problems. The journals were a strange combination of thrillingly interesting and mundanely boring. Kit Kat and Samson had gotten together every day to read them.
Today, Samson had work on the mountain, so Kit Kat didn’t arrive until early evening. She brought some dinner from the Chinese restaurant that used to be a different Chinese restaurant before she moved away. The two of them had eaten and immediately delved into the diaries again. On the couch, it was a strange kind of cuddling. A comfortable touching of legs and feet when one repositioned. Each of them reading out interesting passages to the other. Kit Kat marked the best parts with sticky notes, the student within her unable to read something as strange and interesting as Crazy Eddie’s journals without faithfully documenting.
The scent of their dinner from hours ago was still strong and filled the house with the smell of broccoli beef and flat noodles. “It’s late, I really should go home.” She swung her legs to the floor and stretched. When she stood up and looked out the window, however, the snow had buried her car. Was it snowing when she drove up? She tried to think. Yes, there were a few dandruffy flakes falling, but nothing to worry about. Now, there were huge flakes, covering the road with a slickery mess.
Samson stood up and walked up beside her. When he saw the snow she felt him stiffen up. He turned to look at her, with worry on his face, but he said nothing. “What is it?” she asked him. A bright red mark appeared on his forehead and he turned away, covering it with his hand. “Just worried about all that snow.” He turned back toward her and his entire forehead was red from his rubbing. “Looks dangerous.”
She nodded. “That’s what I was going to say. I was going to ask to crash here for the night, but now I don’t think I should.” He violently shook his head, “No! You’re welcome to stay here. You can sleep in the guest room…” His voice trailed off and she followed his line of sight. He was looking across the street at the lit windows of the Bangerter house.
“It’s probably not right for me to stay,” she backed away from the window. “Everyone will think we’re sleeping together.” Then, she laughed with the realization. “Of course, they probably already do.” Samson nodded, seriously and she stopped laughing. “God, I forgot how different things are here.” He nodded, answering, “Yeah, in San Francisco, no one cared. Here, it’s, like, a big deal.”
She threw a wicked glance at the Bangerter house and walked back to the couch, flopping on it. “Well, they’re right. It IS a big deal.” She watched Samson uncomfortably pace in front of the living room window. “I can take you home in my truck. It has four-wheel drive, so the snow isn’t that bad.” She smiled with resignation. “My car would still be here overnight.” She thrust her hand toward the Bangerter house, feeling defeated.
He came over to the couch and gently put his arm around her shoulders. “To heck with ‘em.” He waved in the direction of the house as if they were an irritating insect. “We know the truth.” His arm around her shoulders felt warm and comforting. It was so rare that he ever touched her like that. The hours of reading on the couch with gentle nudges from his legs had made her even more thirsty for human touch than she realized.
“Yeah, we’ll know the truth,” she said as she turned to gently kiss him.