It's Time (Sequel to Radioactive)

Chapter 13

Kelley's POV

Niagara, Canada

You know that feeling you get, when you want something from a waitress at a diner, but she's busy on the other side of the room with another person. All you want is a glass of water, but it feels so awkward and unnecessary for her to come to you. but you really need that water. So you sit there until she comes to check on you. And it takes forever. That's where I am right now. Except, the waitress isn't coming back, and I'm not going to taste ice cold water today.

I sat at the old, wooden kitchen table. It was a long rectangle; one which would be found in an old inn. I guess that's why it was in my house after all.

Sitting alone in the dim light, I stared out the small kitchen window above the sink. The sky outside was getting lighter, turning away from dim grey to pink.

For late December it was surprisingly cold outside. Puddled lay frozen on the paths, icicles hung from trees, yet there was no snow on the ground.

I remembered winters as a little girl, playing in the snow drifts in the commons, skating down the river. Without snow on the ground, winter seemed bleak. It was too cold to stay outside, and it was no more desirable to play outside.

Slowly, I drank more tea from my small cup and watched the sun rise through the trees over the river. I loved where the old inn was build, and saw why my parents love this little forgotten place so much.

Finally finished with my tea, I stood up and put the cup on the counter. The house was cold, something that I believed gave it more character in an odd way. I slowly shuffled around the house, carrying my basket of logs, and rebuilt all the fires. On days like this, I learned to shut off the rooms I didn't use to conserve heat. Even with a large fire in every room, there was a chill in the walls that seeped into ones bones.

After finishing the mandatory chores to keep myself alive, I crumpled onto the couch in the main room. I had nothing to do or look forward to today. No motivation to change from my fuzzy pants and large Christmas sweater. Really, I didn't have any reason to move from the couch other than there was a pie in the cold box that needed my attention.

Compromising with myself, I got up from the couch, grabbed the pie and a fork, and turned the radio on before sitting back down.

I didn't have much choice of radio stations. There were the few news stations and top of the pops stations, plus some easy listening things. But in truth, I didn't mind it. It gave me the solitude that I relished, and still kept me in line with society.

Through everything that I'd been through, I still needed that connection to the real world. I didn't want to be a hobbit all my life.

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After lunch I got ready to go into town. I needed need anything besides little groceries, but I liked the walk along the river. Going to town gave me a purpose for walking, and would stop me from breaking down.

I quickly changed into jeans and a nice sweater, throwing a wool jacket and scarf on over. Boots weren't necessary as there was no snow, but lined shoes were always nice. Before heading out I picked up a pair of gloves, just incase I stayed out longer than usual.

Once outside, I missed the crackling fires of the house. The air was crips, but the winds light today. With any hope, there would be very little people around town today.

Making sure to lock the door behind me, I headed out through the front gates, along the path through the trees, to find myself on the main path to town. I shouldn't say it was a main path; there weren't many houses along the river this far up, but it was a real path with signs.

The ten minute walk into town went quickly. The air was quiet, like all of nature was taking a deep breath. Even the river was quiet today, the ice forming heavier over the moving water.

Once in town, I went from store to store as quickly as possible. Most stores were still closed from Christmas, even though it had been a few days past. Thankfully the bakery was open, along with the book store. They were my favourite places to go in town, apart from the park and common.

The bags were light in my hands on the way home. A few cakes and tarts in a paper bag, and a book wrapped in parcel paper. I probably looked odd walking through the lonely town with the parcels in my hands, but I could truly care less. I was home and happy again. Happy as I could possibly be at least.

Returning home to the house, I kicked off my shoes and put the parcels in the kitchen. I carefully unwound my dark blue scarf and tossed it over a mirror in the main hall.

I slipped off my coat absentmindedly, and folded it over a chair. As I laid it down, the tag at the top of my coat caught my eye. Under the tailoring label, someone had inked in G. Harrison.

I removed my hand from the coat and took a deep breath. I had forgotten that George had left his coat with me the night they left. After all this time, I hadn't notice or remembered to send it back.

Torn between putting the coat away forever to keep memories at bay, and wearing it normally, I pick the coat up carefully and placed it on a hook in the coat cupboard.

Maybe someday I would wear the coat again, that could be tomorrow for all I knew.

In an attempt to forget about the coat, I went back to the kitchen for a cake and my book, and headed to the chair by the fire. I fell asleep to the sounds of Bob Dylan, with cake crumbs on my sweater and the book open on my knee.