Alfred zipped his jacket and turned to look at me. He looked-… ridiculous; the orange raincoat was too big for him, the old sneakers too small, and they gnawed at his feet and made a noise every time he moved the slightest. Squeek, queek - if I wasn’t crying, I would be laughing.
“She doesn’t,” I repeated and crossed my arms.
Alfred reached for me, “Arthur,” he said, but I stepped backwards and through the kitchen door before he got a hold of me.
“No,” I said.
“No what?” he asked.
“No, don’t do it again - don’t grab me and say, oh Arthur, I know, she doesn’t, but oh Arthur, I cannot control myself, I must go, oh Arthur.” I grimaced the words before pointing to him, “You are not going to blame me for your mistakes. Not anymore.”
He rolled his eyes.
“And stop doing that.”
“Imagining I’m being silly.”
“But you are being silly.”
It was my turn to roll my eyes.
It was seven in the morning. Alfred expected me to be asleep as he snuck out of bed to shower. He dressed quickly, put on his shoes with an incredible speed, and got to the front door before I could put on my robe. I was naked, I was cold, and I was getting pissed. Besides, that orange coat was not his, it belonged to my brother, and if Alfred was going to run around time like a fool, I’d rather he did it in his own clothes.
“Take off the coat,” I said.
Alfred frowned, “It’s raining.”
“Then grab an umbrella. You’re not using that coat.”
“He won’t even care. You know, you’re being really obno-”
“Take. It. Off.”
Alfred glared at me, but he slowly undid the zipper, slipped the jacket off his arms, and threw it at me. “Here you go, sunshine.”