"Home is where my friend is, and there I never go." by Truman Capote, A Christmas Memory

 
“I am so excited."  I say. "I just saw the best movie, A Christmas Memory.” 

“You should listen to the book.”  He tells me.  “I don’t remember who reads it, but they do such a good job.”

I get the book, but the only way I have to play it is on my computer and I can’t hear it unless I wear my headphones.

I don’t like wearing them.  I want to lie down in bed and listen so that I can immerse myself in the story, but I have to wait until my new CD player arrives. 

It comes and I step into the kitchen. 

“It’s fruitcake weather.”  I say.

We count out the money and go to buy the ingredients. 

He’s my buddy, my best friend and I rely on him to tell me things.  Like...

“If you get the chance, don’t watch Capote’s movie, Children On Their Birthdays.”

“I won’t.”  I promise. "I'll read the book."

“It's hard to get Capote down on film because he has a sentimental sinisterness in his style that can be hard to approximate.” He tells me.

I close my eyes, but then I say,  “Buddy are you awake?  I can’t sleep a hoot.”

I know he hears me.

“When you grow up will we still be friends?”  I ask.

“Always.”