Run With Me by L. A. Shorter

I
can't help but smile, despite everything going on in my head.
    “ Marge, I could never replace
you. You're the only one willing to put up with me!”
    “ Now that's true. If anything
it should be me looking for a toyboy.”
    We're soon close enough together
for their amusing, if slightly inappropriate, jokes to turn to
introductions.
    “ Marge, this is Kitty.
She's...well, she's had a hard night and I'm just getting her some
water.”
    Marge steps forward and takes me
by the hand. “Lovely to meet you Kitty. So, you've had a rough
night?”
    I can feel her eyes scanning my
red eyes and blotchy skin, but she doesn't draw attention to them.
    I nod. “Um, boyfriend trouble
and a few too many drinks. It's nothing major, really.”
    “ Nonsense,” she says
quickly. “Any type of boyfriend trouble is always serious. It's
what life is really all about.”
    She turns me towards the house
and in through the front door. It's so secluded out here that some
people might feel unnerved. But the peace and quiet is actually
comforting. We move immediately into the kitchen and Derrick quickly
fills up as large a glass of water as he can find.
    “ Here,” he says, handing it
to me. “Get that down you and you'll feel a lot better.”
    I take the water and have a gulp
as I quickly take in my bearings. The place is quaint and colorful,
with beautifully designed countertops and cupboards lining the walls.
There are all sorts of ornaments on the surfaces and window sills,
mainly of animals, while the walls are littered with clocks and old
signs. It's busy, but in a good way.
    Behind me there's a television
quietly humming away, but it's quickly drowned out as Marge puts on
the kettle, which takes no time to come to the boil. There's a
homeliness to the place, and the couple, that puts and keeps me at
ease.
    I drink down my water fast and
feel my mouth quickly grow less dry. As soon as it's drained I feel
Derrick's hand swoop in and take it off me for a refill. He hands me
back another full glass of ice cold liquid and smiles.
    “ So, how about that coffee?”
he asks, and I smile back and nod silently.
    Marge sets to work, preparing 3
cups and asking me how I take mine. I say “milk and sugar” as
politely as I can, still enjoying the cool sensation of the cold
water trickling down my throat.
    Soon Marge has brought over the
coffees on a little tray, with a little box of cookies in the middle.
“Help yourself,” she says as I eye up the delicious chocolate
treats, and reach in to grab one. The combination of the warm, silky
coffee and the sugary, crunchy cookie is delicious, and I can't help
but shower it with praise.
    “ Thanks so much. This is
lovely coffee. Are these cookies homemade?”
    She smiles and nods. “We like
to be as self sufficient as possible here Kitty. Most of what we eat
and drink is grown and produced right here on the farm...”
    “ Even the coffee beans?” I
break in. Not in a rude way, just because I'm interested and I want
to keep my mind occupied.
    She chuckles knowingly, as if
there's a story behind the question. “Oh, we've tried, but we can't
manage it here. Our beans never tasted that nice! At least, what's
what the general impression was from our neighbors. When you see
someone secretively spitting into a plant pot you know it's not for
general consumption!”
    We both laugh together and take
another long sip. Good thing she isn't testing a new bean on me, I think to myself.
    “ Derrick, though, has
perfected his brewing, haven't you dear?”
    I turn to Derrick who's got a
cheeky smile on his face that belies his age. Out of the sun, and
despite a heavily tanned face, I can see that his nose is slightly
red. And it's not sunburn I'm looking at.
    Derrick leans into me and
whispers: “it's a point of contention between us. Can you keep a
secret? I've got a whole new plan to make my own whiskey! Shhhhh,
don't tell Marge!” As he speaks I know she can hear, and quickly
realize it's just another