I had just gotten out of the gas station and bought what I usually bought on my little Sunday night trips—a pack of reds, a water bottle (one of the purified waters. Spring water is quite gross to me and Michigan tap is awful), and a chocolate depending on my mood. There was this European white chocolate they were selling this week that wasn't there before. I can't remember the name but it was amazing. It was like a bar of straight white chocolate with an etching on it and one of those colorful Kinder-like wrappers (it was not Kinder). I decided to buy two and the cashier was mad at me for eating one before I paid for it which I don't really understand. I left to smoke a cigarette outside when I saw an older woman shivering alone by the gas station. She caught me staring at her and scowled at me as we began our dialogue:

 

?: Can I help you?

Me: Aren't you cold?

?: What?

Me: I said, aren't you cold?

?: It's 30 degrees. Of course I'm cold.

Me: I'm cold, too. 

?: Thanks for letting me know kid.

Me: No problem, Miss.

 

The woman looked at me with a strange expression and then turned away. I was feeling like talking, though, so I kept on.

 

Me: I'm wearing a jacket and I'm cold, so I can't imagine how cold you must be.

 

The woman snapped her head at me and scowled. 

 

?: You just want to sit here and remind me how fucking cold I am? You think I don't know I'm cold? 

 

(I was beginning to sense that this lady was not enjoying our conversation) 

 

Me: No, not at all, Miss. I just know that I'm cold and you're cold, so we have that in common.

?: Everybody outside right now is cold. 

Me: Isn't that fascinating!

?: What? That people get cold?

Me: That everybody outside right now is cold. Or at least everybody outside that's relatively near us. I'm sure there's somebody in a desert right now that's outside who isn't very cold. Like I can't imagine a Moroccan being cold right now. But many many people, millions of them, are cold right at the same time we are. 

?: Is there something wrong with you?

 

I get asked this a lot. I dislike the question, so I ignore it. 

 

Me: Would you like my jacket? It might help with the cold.

?: What?

Me: I'd like to give you my jacket.

 

She paused and looked at me strangely again. 

 

?: No, honey, you shouldn't do that. 

 

I think the woman began to think of me as mentally ill and changed her aggressive nature to one of sympathy and pity. 

 

Me: I'd like to, though. 

?: That jacket doesn't look cheap. You shouldn't just give expensive things away. 

Me: I don't know how much it was. It could be very cheap for all I know. 

?: You don't know how much your own jacket was?

Me: No, Miss. It was a gift. From my mother.

?: Now would your mother like you giving the jacket she got you to a random homeless woman?

Me: I don't think she'd care much. She's dead now. 

 

The woman's face softened. She looked like she cared. 

 

?: I'm so sorry to hear that. 

Me: It's okay.

?: A young man like you... without a mother... I can't imagine. I can't imagine.

Me: It's okay. 

?: How old are you, sweetie? If you don't mind me asking? 

Me: I'm 20 years old.

 

I used a fake ID to buy the cigarettes from the gas station. 

 

?: Only 20 years old! Without a mother! But you have a family, right?

Me: I have a little sister. 

?: And your father?

Me: No. No father.

?: Did he pass, too?

Me: No. I never knew him.

?: And your sister? How old is she? 

Me: She's in 8th grade now. Very very smart girl. She studies at a high school level and is president of her middle school's honor society. 

?: So... there are 7 years between you two? 

Me: Yes.

?: Do you two have the same father?

Me: No.

?: I see. And does she remember your mother?

Me: Of course. Mom died Wednesday. 

 

The woman paused longer now. She seemed confused. I think she thought I was in shock or something. 

 

?: Today is Friday. You're telling me your mother passed two days ago? 

Me: Yes.

?: I am so sorry for your loss. 

Me: It's okay. 

 

She had already given me her condolences. 

 

Me: Is your mother alive?

?: No. She died ten years ago. 

 

Now I could give my condolences. So I did. 

 

?: Thank you. 

Me: So would you like my jacket? 

?: Honey, I can't take the jacket.

Me: I think you should. I'm cold with the jacket on, right? And you're cold without the jacket on. If I take it off, I'll still be cold, but if you put it on you could be warm. 

?: It was a gift from your mother. She gave this to you because she loved you. Don't you want to keep it? To remember that?

Me: My mom still loves me.

 

The woman sat quietly and looked down. She didn't respond to the comment. But she looked very sad. I was worried I hurt her. I'd finished my cigarette, so I sat next to her and lit up another one. I didn't offer her one because I knew she didn't smoke. I asked her for her name. 

 

Carrie: I'm okay being cold, I think.

Isaac: Okay. Well I'm going to leave this jacket here, just in case. Okay? 

 

Carrie nodded her head. 

 

Isaac: Would you like something from the gas station? 

Carrie: I'm okay. I think I'll go to sleep. 

Isaac: Okay. Well it was nice talking to you. 

 

Carrie smiled and nodded her head. 

 

Carrie: Likewise. 

 

I felt awful. I shouldn't have mentioned my mother. I should have just kept it about the cold. I had really upset her. I asked her if I could hug her. She nodded her head. We held each other and both were Moroccan for a little bit. 

 

-Isaac Kittler