steamrollered right
over me. I'm in school six hours a day, I study for another six,
and pull an eight-hour shift driving a hack, and that doesn't count
eating, sleeping, and wishing I wasn't too tired to make love to my
wife. If you want to lump me in with all the rest of the SOB's,
then go ahead. I don't care. But I do care about making sure my
wife isn't disappointed tomorrow morning."
The guy blinked and backed up a step. "Hey,
sorry if I misread you, kid." He squinted in David's direction.
"Aren't you a little young to be married?"
"You want to see my driver's license?"
"No reason to be insulted. Just asking a
question."
What he wanted to do was pop the guy one and
walk out the door, but that wasn't going to take care of the
problem. Jilly deserved something wonderful. "I'm looking for
Chanel No. 5."
"Don't have any."
"Shalimar?" He could almost see the sneer on
her father's face.
"All out."
"How about Johnny?"
"Charlie," the salesman corrected him. "That
was the first to go."
The guy didn't have gloves, scarves, flowers,
or slippers either. "We still have can openers and pressure
cookers."
David shook his head. "Forget it." He stuffed
his money into his backpack and slung the leather bag over his
shoulder. "I'll take my business someplace else."
"Good luck," the clerk said. "The pet shop's
the only other place open and they're down to their last
iguana."
David refused to be discouraged. Something
happened to people when they got older. He didn't know if it was
disappointment or jealousy or just bone-deep nastiness, but
newlyweds seemed to bring out the worst in some people.
We'll never be like that , he thought
as he trudged down the street in the blinding snow. He and Jill
were special...together they were downright magical. Ten years from
now they would be exactly the same as they were today, except even
more in love.
Jill had said they shouldn't exchange gifts.
"The rent is due in a week and I don't want to let the Zimmermans
down. They've been so kind to us."
And she was right. Their landlords Claire and
Eddie Zimmerman treated them like the children they'd never had.
They remembered Jill's and David's birthdays, invited them over for
Thanksgiving dinner, and provided shoulders to lean on. David would
never do anything to disappoint them. He'd saved the twenty dollars
by skipping lunches and two haircuts because putting a smile on
Jill's face was worth a couple hunger pangs any day.
After all she'd given up for him, it was the
least he could do.
He walked the length of Main Street, first
one side and then the other. Even the all-night drug store was shut
tight as a drum. The lights in the pet shop were still on but
somehow he didn't think Jill would welcome an iguana into the
family with open arms.
One day when they had a house of their own,
the big house of his dreams, they'd go to a shelter and take in as
many dogs and cats and parakeets as the place had, but that day was
still a long way off.
A brisk wind was blowing the snow straight
into his eyes. It was the kind of wind that whistled up your
sleeves and down the collar of your jacket and made it feel twice
as cold as it really was. Someday they'd have two cars, both of
them brand spanking new with heaters that could keep you warm in
the coldest weather, and stereo speakers and--
"Yowch!" His feet slid out from under him and
he sailed up into the air and landed butt first on the pavement.
His backpack skidded to a stop a few feet away. He scrambled to his
feet and brushed the snow off his pants, wishing he'd worn
snowshoes instead of Reeboks. He bent down to retrieve his backpack
when he made his mistake and glanced at the pet shop window..
One lone kitten slept peacefully on a bed of
shredded newspaper. He curled up into a little ball of fluff with
his head resting on a knot of Christmas red yarn. Talk about
tugging on the old consumer heartstrings. One adorable kitten
asleep in the window was all you needed to lure customers in by