“Hungry?” She said.
“Yes.” I said, sitting down across from her. “It smells really good.”
“Thank you. Now, eat. It’ll warm you up.” She said.
“How was your day?” I asked.
“Oh, you know. People bring their groceries and I ring ’em up. Nothing much different.” She said.
“Mom, I’ve never told you this, but you’re beautiful.” I said.
She blushed. “Well, thank you, son.”
“You’re welcome. I just wanted you to know that.” I said.
“And you’re a very handsome young man.” She said, smiling.
We ate our dinner and made small talk, occasionally laughing at each other as we warmed our hands over our bowls of stew. When we had finished and washed the dishes in cold water, we sat down on the sofa, turned on the TV and wrapped a blanket around ourselves.
“Wait a minute.” I said, getting up.
I went and closed the doors to the bathroom and her bedroom to help keep the small kitchen and living room warmer.
“If we keep those doors closed, the heat will stay in here.” I said, as I sat back down and got under the blanket with her.
“Yeah, and my bedroom will be freezing when I go to bed.” She said.
“Mom, think about it. It’s gonna get below freezing tonight. You won’t be warm in there anyway. We can both sleep in here, closer to the oven.” I said.
“And where do suggest we both sleep?” She asked.
“On the pull-out. It’s big enough for both of us.” I said.
“You’re sure you don’t mind your old mother sleeping next to you?” She asked, laughing.
“Your my Mom. Why would I mind? And you’re not old.” I said.
“Well, let me go get my flannel gown and another blanket.” She said, getting up and going to her bedroom.
I flipped through the channels, while she was gone. There was an old black and white movie on. I left it there. She likes the old black and whites almost as much as she likes comedies. She came back in, carrying a blanket over her shoulder with her flannel gown and a pair of knee length, white socks in her hand.
“I plan on staying warm, tonight.” She laughed.
She put everything on the end of the sofa and got back under the blanket with me, shivering as she snuggled up close.
“What are we watching?” She asked.
“I don’t know. Some old movie.” I said.
“Casablanca!” She said, excited.
“What?” I asked.
“Humphrey Bogart and Ingrid Bergman. Casablanca.” She said, smiling.
“Okay.” I said. “Is it any good?”
“Any good? It’s a classic.” She said.
As we watched the movie, Mom leaned her head over on my shoulder. We were finally beginning to get warm under the blanket. I adjusted myself a little, trying to get more comfortable.
“Am I hurting your shoulder?” She asked, raising up.
“No. I just need to move up a little.” I raised my arm and let her settle back in, putting my arm around her.
“This movie’s not bad.” I said.
“It’s great.” She said.
“Are you warm enough?” I asked.
“I’m fine, son.” She said, meaning to rub my leg.
She inadvertently went a little high with the rub, immediately realizing what she had done and quickly pulled her hand back.
“Sorry.” She said.
“It’s okay.” I said, trying to sound as though it was no big deal.