Читать книгу Celia's Shadow - Sandy Levy Kirschenbaum - Страница 17

Celia pulled the comforter up to her neck and nestled into her bed. She opened one eye and peeked at the clock. Shit. Four minutes to go. She raised the comforter up to her nose and closed her eyes.

Four minutes later, the radio blasted her awake. With both hands, she pulled the pillow next to her and covered her head in a feeble attempt to muffle the noise. “No!” She squeezed the pillow tighter over her ears.

From beneath the comforter, she slid her hand out and powerfully smashed the snooze button. The clock flew off the side table. The music blared as it became wedged between the mattress and nightstand. “SHIT!” So much for that extra ten minutes of sleep.

Sluggishly she dragged herself from her warm bed and knelt on the carpet. She wiggled the clock back and forth as she tried to dislodge it from the tight space. Finally, she yanked it free and slammed the stop button. Guess it’s senseless to hit the snooze button again. I’m wide awake now. She was irritated.

A pounding headache joined her morning routine. I’ll never again drink that much wine on a week night. She removed a small bottle of aspirin from the bathroom medicine cabinet and walked into the kitchen. She poured herself a large glass of orange juice, popped two pills in her mouth, and took a big gulp.

Celia stood against the counter, drank the last sip of juice, and pushed the brew button to start her coffee. Instantly, the wonderful smell filled the room. She inhaled slowly.

The rescue of the alarm clock turned what should have been a ten-minute snooze into twelve minutes of frustration. Celia was now late. She turned on the shower, dropped her nightgown to the bathroom floor, and rubbed her eyes. After the two-minute wait period, the length of time it took for the water to heat up, she stuck her hand through the shower curtain and checked the temperature. Finally. Every day, the water took at least two minutes to heat up, and every day, Celia expected it would be faster.

She showered and then savored the warmth from the hot water that poured down her body. She turned the shower off and reached for a towel. Although the shower was off, she still heard water dripping—it came from the kitchen.

With the towel wrapped around her soaked body and her feet still drenched, she raced into the kitchen. Hot coffee coated the countertop and dripped down the cabinets to form a small puddle on the floor.

“Fuck!” She gazed at the empty space where the coffee pot should have been placed. “You idiot! How did you do this?” She looked at the coffee pot in the dish strainer.

Celia grabbed a cup and placed it under the lip of the counter. With her bare hands, she pushed the residual pool over the edge and filled the cup halfway. She gulped it down and shuddered. Ugh! This second mishap of the morning further delayed her. There wasn’t time to brew a second pot. She clutched a fistful of paper towels and haphazardly wiped the cabinet doors and the floor.