Demons

9.

I woke up from dreaming in a cold sweat. Scared and shivering, I climbed out of bed. I was quiet, trying not to wake Grandma or Harry. I went downstairs, into the kitchen for something to eat, to get a glass of water.

I found a bagel, handmade by my grandma, and filled up my glass, I scurried into the living room, on light feet and turned on the television. I kept the volume low, Grandma wouldn't hear it without her hearing aid in, but Harry might. I chewed on my bagel and watched reruns of Frasier. I always felt weird doing this, scared, like I might get caught. I should know by now, that if I got caught, nothing would happen. It was old habits that kept me so paranoid. If I had done this when I was thirteen, I would have some bruises when I woke up.

"What are you doing up?" A soft, raspy voice asked

I glanced up to see Harry, his hair slightly less neat, his eyes looking tired, he was frowning, looking confused.

"I had a nightmare, I didn't wake you did I?"

"No, I don't sleep at night anyhow, do you want to talk about your nightmare?"

"No, I don't think you'd understand."

"I could try."

"Why don't we just watch television and forget I said anything about a nightmare."

"Alright." He sat down on the couch beside me, close enough to make me study him out of the corner of my eye, but not close enough to scare me

We didn't speak for a long time, we just watched sitcoms, sometimes laughing at the jokes. He had a nice laugh, it was comforting. I liked listening to it, I haven't heard much laughter in the past six months. I think that might change someone too. Not laughing enough.

When I glanced over at Harry, he was studying me intensely.

"What are you thinking about?" He asked

"Laughing."

"Laughing?"

"I don't laugh a lot, and I haven't in a very long time."

"That's not very good, is it? Maybe you should change that."

"I would like to laugh more."

"Then, we will."

- - -

In the morning, I wake up on couch with a pillow under my head. There was scattered blankets on the floor, I figured Harry must have slept there. I don't remember ever falling asleep. I wonder if Harry actually slept on the floor, since he said he doesn't sleep at night. Maybe he just lied on the floor all night, I couldn't imagine that being very pleasant.

I picked the blankets up off the floor and folded them on the couch. I left to explore the kitchen for something to eat. When I walked into the yellow kitchen, which used to make very happy when I was younger, there was bacon and eggs on the table. The eggs weren't cooked in Grandma's style, so Harry must've made them. I took some and ate them, I surprised with Harry's cooking skills. I wonder who taught him how to cook.

I heard the screen door bang shut and Harry came into the house wearing a tan leather coat with white fur on the collar. He was holding a large brown paper bag.

"Hello there." he smiled

"Who taught you how to cook?" I asked, skipping small talk

"My mother did."

"She taught you very well then."

"I'm afraid bacon and eggs are the only thing I'm really good at cooking."

"That's alright, if you can do something good then its better than not doing anything good."

"So what can you do good then?" He asked, as he started to unpack the paper bag

"I'm pretty good at watching sitcoms."

He laughed his nice laugh again, and I took the opportunity to laugh along with him. Laughing with Harry felt very good, and maybe I was almost happy.