Thankful for the three layers under her red winter jacket, she sits in a rocking chair on the front porch. The cars cruise down the highway, most of them obliviously to her obscure location.
Wishing she'd opted for the hot chocolate instead, she attempts to maneuver her gloved hand around the spoon in her McFlurry. Her dinner, a Taco Bell Chulupa with chicken, sits in her lap forgotten. Not unlike she is.
"You want to let me in?" she calls on her cell phone.
"Oh... uh... shoot... well... see... uh... um... we're still at the grocery store," explains the voice on the other end. "We're on our way back," he lies.
The clock tower lets out a chime. It's 5:45. According to the invitation, the Superbowl party in the boys' dorm started fifteen minutes earlier. For the first time in her life, she's glad she didn't arrive on time.
The ice cream in her cup does not threaten to melt, but she's slowly losing feeling in her fingers as she touches the plastic spoon to her lips.
"He begged me to come," she said aloud to herself, remembering the pleading facebook messages asking her to ditch the Superbowl party in her apartment to attend his. Now he's failed to arrive at his own party and left her sitting in the cold.
Ten minutes later, the ice cream is gone; she is still waiting. Suddenly, the door behind her pops open revealing the morgue turned boy's dorm as her party host bursts out into the chilling winter night. She glances at her watch and starts up at him.
"We have chips," he says with a sly smile.
Of course, chips make her frost bite worthwhile because now instead of begging for mercy, he'll beg for grace, and he'll want it in the form of cheese chip dip. Yet she'll give it. If only in the name of forgiveness and familial love.
Dear Mr. Kevin Kassakatis,
I was not going to update my blog twice today. However, your tasteless, rude behavior this evening left me no choice. I have considered this your forfeiting the war and will being my victory dance as soon as I thaw.
<>< Katie Ax
PS: But I still love you.