The visit

'Alfie,' my mother said, 'stop reading The Fountainhead and do your math homework!' I looked up from my perch at the window, dazed. 'And, by the way,' continued she, 'Chilly Debby is coming to visit.'

A deep shudder ran down the length of my spine, but I kept a calm exterior. 'Is that right,' said I, 'is that right.'

'Um. . .yes. She's coming in May, with Cousin Dirk.'

'I'll remember to come down with the flu, then,' said I.

Mother stopped short. 'What's wrong with Chilly Debby?'.

'She doesn't like Oasis,' said I, 'and her eyes are frosted with. . .' (a pause for drama) '. . .the Winter of the Soul.'

'You're silly,' Mother said, and left the room.

I returned to my book, where I had seen visions of Sharon's mane in every word. Now my mind had frozen stiff, like a shallow pond in the cold of December. There would be no rest on this night.