15 — Carmickle
schedule.” “I went to the pool room.” He closed the fridge. “There’s no mustard. Or ketchup.” “Oh. Well, plain doesn’t bother me.” She grinned. “Did I tell you? Since I don’t work tonight Randy is driving us up to Bloomington to take a rowboat out on Griffy Lake. Then dinner. I’m thinking Indian food. It’s been awhile.” “You’re going to date him now? Gross.com.” He tossed the buns on the table, took a gulp from his pop and dumped the rest in the sink. We’ve barely been here a month, Ian thought. He hated that she did this again and again. He wanted to say so, always did, but it was nice to see her laughing and pretty and hopeful. Instead he said, “He’s fat.” “He’s muscular, Ian. And don’t be so wasteful.” “It was hot. I don’t think the fridge works.” Maybe, Ian thought, I can say it without hurting her feelings. “We just moved here. You just got a job. I just don’t see why—” “Because I’m an adult and can make my own decisions. And I get lonely, baby.” She stabbed the hotdogs and placed them on Styrofoam plates. She removed the fries from the oven and filled the plates. They sat and ate in silence. “Donovan is teaching me to shoot pool,” Ian said around a mouthful of food. “That’ll occupy your mind.” She leaned back and stared at him, wiping her greasy fingers on a napkin. “Isn’t he odd?” “No. These fries are burnt, though.” “Then don’t eat them.” She went to a cabinet and grabbed plastic wrap, covering the plate of half-eaten food before placing it in the fridge. “Cindi, one of the other waitresses, asked him out and he told her flat out no. And she’s cute as can be with this beautiful blond hair. Don’t you find that strange?” “Probably he’s not into some waitress. She sounds dumb.” “Saying something like that makes you sound dumb, so don’t.” She shrugged and lit another cigarette. “What do I care? I have the owner taking me on a date.” She paused, crossed an arm beneath her chest and held the elbow of her smoking arm. “I might stay over at Randy’s tonight—will you be okay here by yourself?” “I always am.” Yolanda walked to the table and took her purse from a chair. She slung it over her shoulder. “Ian?” “Huh?” “If you’d rather I came home tonight, I will. I like this guy, but—” She winked, and continued, “but here’s the secret, I like you more.” “Okay.” He knew that he wanted her to stay, that the emptiness was worse for him. “Go ahead, have fun. I’ll watch TV or read.” “My boy is a man now.” She paused and smiled at him. “Love you.” After she left, Ian finished his hotdog, took down a bowl and filled it with Cap’N Crunch Berries. He added the skim milk his mom insisted on and placed the bowl on the table. The oven had been left on, so he turned it off. He could hear the television in the living room and thought maybe he would see if anything was on. But, he realized, it was too early in the evening and there would only be soaps. So he took the cereal out to the front deck and sat in a lawn chair. The underpinning of the trailer across from them was completely missing; beneath the trailer he could see that it sat