“No. How are you?”
“A little restless. Maggie and I couldn’t go for our walk. Staying home today?” he asked.
I hummed in response around a mouthful of cereal. “Not much point in opening the Emporium, I figured.”
“Neil home too?”
“No, he had to work.” I looked back at the television. “Any plans for the day?”
“Nah,” Dad replied lazily.
“Mind if I come over?”
“Of course not, but there aren’t any taxis out.”
“That’s all right,” I said while standing and bringing my bowl to the kitchen sink. “I’ll slip and slide my way over there.”
“Everything okay, Sebastian?”
“Sure,” I said, as if saying it out loud would convince me it was true. “I’ll see you soon.” I said good-bye and hung up.
I went back into the bedroom and pawed through the pile of laundry on the floor of the closet. I tugged on a pair of faded Levi’s and pulled on a probably white, maybe gray, T-shirt. In the bathroom I stared at my face in the mirror and rubbed my cheeks while I considered shaving.
Not worth the effort.
I ran my fingers through my hair a few times, washed my face and brushed my teeth, put on deodorant, and then popped in my red-tinted contacts. They made my—according to Pop—hazeleyes a very dark brown, but they were a great protection that made wearing my regular, prescription sunglasses possible.
I regretted the decision to go out the minute my boots sank into the unplowed sidewalks. The snow was still coming down hard, and the city was frighteningly quiet. I passed a few other brave souls who were trudging through the storm as I made my way downtown toward my father’s apartment.
The streets were empty, the rumbling of snowplows echoing nearby. Nearly everything was closed, save for a lone dry-cleaning shop and the café next door to it. I stopped in long enough to make a purchase of fresh donuts to use as a peace offering for when Pop inevitably started griping about my lackluster appearance. Twenty-five minutes later, which on any day that wasn’t Snowpocalypse should have taken about fifteen, I finally reached my dad’s building.
I stood on the doorstep, waiting to be buzzed in while shaking snow from my coat and scarf. I grew up in this building. It was one of those architecturally gorgeous, prewar complexes. Dad had been a tenant since he was a teenager and was one of the lucky folks to have a rent-controlled home. Otherwise he probably would have been forced into the outer boroughs after his recent retirement. The buzzer rang and the door unlocked. I hurried inside, took the stairs up to the fourth floor, and knocked.
“It’s open!”
I pushed the front door open in time to be assaulted by a huge pit bull. She jumped on her back legs and licked my face and sunglasses. “Oh, Maggie,come on, every time!”
“Down, girl,” my father said sternly. “You only ever do this to Sebastian,” he chastised quietly when his princess hurried to his side, tail wagging happily.
“Hey, Pop,” I said with a huff while shutting the door. I took off my coat and scarf, hanging them up before removing my sunglasses to wipe them clean on my shirt.
“I was worried you got lost in the wild, arctic tundra,” Pop said with a chuckle.
“Yeah, nearly,” I answered. I retrieved my glasses from my coat before setting the box of donuts on the counter.
Pop looked sideways from filling the coffee machine with grounds. “What’s that?”
“From Little Earth.”
“My favorite.”
“I know.” I pulled out a tiny bag inside the box to reveal two dog biscuits. Besides being locally famous for their killer donuts, Little Earth was every pup’s favorite stop on walks because of their homemade treats. “Promise to stop jumping on me?” I asked Maggie.
She obediently sat, looking up with anxious excitement.
I held the biscuits out, and she snatched them both in one bite. “Sure,” I told her. “You’ll jump again.”
“Did you just roll out of bed?” Pop asked as he finished starting the coffee, only to turn and stare at me with an unhappy expression.
