The Tower of Endless Worlds

by Jonathan Moeller

Simon sat on the couch, bored.

  He had no homework. His dissertation was finished. He had no student papers to correct, nor any homework to grade. He didn’t even have any extra work to do for Senator Wycliffe.

  Simon grunted. “This is going to take some getting used to.” He didn’t know what to do with himself. Maura was in Florida and Katrina was doing something tonight with her mother and her friends. He suspected it was a bachelorette party. He knew better than to pry.

  “Maybe I should rent a movie or something.” Simon got to his feet and headed to the phone. He decided to order pizza, something he hadn’t done in ages.

  The phone rang, and Simon snatched it up in relief. “Hello?”

  “Hey, college boy, it’s me.”

  Simon leaned against the wall. “I though you were going out with your mother tonight.”

  “So was I,” said Katrina, “but she’s not feeling up to it. Too tired, I guess. We’ll do it later.” She sounded both annoyed and worried. “So what are you up to?”

  “Oh, a lot of things,” said Simon. “I’ve got quite an evening planned.”

  “You’ve got nothing.”

  Simon sighed. “Yeah.”

  “And that’s why you’d be hopeless without me,” said Katrina. “You’d spend all your time in your mother’s basement reading history books.”

  Simon grunted. “I do not live in my mother’s basement.”

  “Oh, just down her hall then, right?”

  Simon rolled his eyes. “You’re in tart mood.”

  “Tart? What the hell is that? A tart’s something you stick in the toaster. Anyway, mind if I come over? Mom’s not pleasant company right now.”

  “Sure,” said Simon. “I was going to order pizza…”

  “Sounds good. Why don’t you call it in, and I’ll pick it up on the way over?”

  “You already bought me lunch,” said Simon.

  “And you can buy me supper,” said Katrina. “You pay me when I come over. It’s not rocket science, Dr. Simon goddamn Wester. It’s not even history.”

  “Funny,” said Simon. “If you want to get a movie or something, I’ll pay for it too. It’s pretty quiet over here.”

  “Oh, that’s right,” said Katrina. “Your mom’s in Florida, isn’t she?”

  “Yup,” said Simon. “Apparently my aunts are taking her to Disney World.”

  “So we’ll have this nice big house all to ourselves then, right?”

  Her tone made Simon’s ears flush. “Um…yeah.”

  “Sounds good. Where are you getting the pizza?” said Katrina. Simon told her. “Great. See you in an hour. It should be fun.” Simon hung up, called in the pizza, sat on the couch, and waited.

  It seemed like an eternity.

  The doorbell ran thirty-five minutes later, and Simon opened the door. Katrina stood on the porch, a pizza box in her hands. “Delivery for Dr. Simon goddamn Wester?”

  Simon rolled his eyes. “You know, that wasn’t even funny the first time. How much do I owe you?”

  “Twelve bucks,” said Katrina. “Where do you want to eat?”

  “Living room,” said Simon. He led her through the dining room and the living room door. “Why twelve bucks? The guy on the phone said it would be nine something.”

  “I got some cheese bread,” said Katrina, tapping a smaller container atop the pizza box. She settled cross-legged on the couch, kicking off her shoes. “What? I like cheese bread. I don’t eat pizza often. Bad shit, plugs up your arteries like plumbers’ putty. So I may as well enjoy it when I do eat it.”

  “Sounds logical to me.” Simon sat besides her. “Considering you used to smoke, what, ten cigarettes a day?”

  Katrina made a sour face. “You nagged at me like an old woman.” Her frown shifted to a small smirk. “Though you tell me if it’s an improvement or not.”

  She leaned forward and kissed him, her tongue slipping between his lips and into his mouth. Simon shivered and kissed her back.

  “Yeah,” he said when she pulled away, “yeah, I’d…I’d say it’s something of an improvement, yes.”

  Katrina smiled and traced a finger along his collar. “Think my tongue still has acid on it?”

  “What?” said Simon, blinking.

  “Right after we first met. You asked me if I ever choked on all the acid dripping from my tongue,” Katrina said, smirking.

  “Um…no, no,” said Simon. He laughed. “I was a little rude, wasn’t I?”

  “Terribly rude,” said Katrina. “You never really apologized.”

  “Well, I apologize now,” said Simon. “How can I make it up to you?”

  Katrina slid onto his lap. “I can think of something.”

  “I…Katrina…I…” Simon’s brain shut down. He pulled her close and kissed her. Somehow his shirt wound up on the floor, and her hands began undoing his belt and the front of her jeans.

  “Just do everything I tell you,” she whispered into his ear.

  He did.

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