problem.”
Faye pondered. “Unless his money was going somewhere he doesn’t want to talk about.”
Liz pursed her lips and did some pondering of her own. “Yeah. Don’t you think for a minute that something like that hasn’t crossed my mind. I’ve tried to imagine all the worst things. Drugs. Alcohol, maybe. But he doesn’t act drunk or high, not ever. I hug him all the time, sniffing for liquor or cigarettes or pot. He drinks a little, but in this business, you learn to spot real drinking trouble fast. I know kids fool their parents all the time, but I try to be realistic. I just don’t see it.”
“Gambling.”
“Maybe. You can’t smell gambling debts. But if he’s in deep with a bookie, he sure ain’t come to me for money. If it got bad enough that he had to drop out of school, wouldn’t he act desperate? Wouldn’t he hit me up for a loan, or nag me to pay him more for his work? Or maybe even steal from me? I don’t get it.”
“No legal troubles?”
Sorrow pinched Liz’s brow and lips. Faye was so accustomed to her friend’s ever-affable zest for life that she wasn’t sure she’d know Liz if she saw her somewhere else, wearing that doleful face.
“He got himself arrested once, but it was a long time ago. He and his football buddies got themselves some fake IDs and they were a-strutting like roosters around some two-bit bar in Sopchoppy, crowing over their big victory. They looked a lot older than seventeen, so they would’ve got away with it if the quarterback hadn’t picked a fight with some of the regular customers. Chip wouldn’t ever have done something that stupid on his own, but he’ll follow somebody he looks up to. Why is that, I want to know? Men.”
“Sometimes I think that Y-chromosome is a birth defect. It sure makes men do some stupid things,” Faye said. “That’s why they named it ‘Why?’”
Joe, who had been studiously ignoring this conversation, cut a pair of eyes in her direction and grunted. Sometime in his GED preparation, he must have learned the purpose of a Y-chromosome and recognized her insult of the entire male gender for what it was.
Liz turned around to shove a tray of biscuits into the oven. She opened her mouth to resume talking about her favorite subject—her son—when that son turned and walked her way. Faye hid a smile, triggered by Liz’s obvious effort to stifle another outburst of maternal pride and concern.
Chip brushed by her, carrying a tray of dirty dishes. He used an elbow to give his mother a playful poke in the ribs as he passed, then he leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head. Liz beamed like an adolescent girl who has caught the attention of a handsome male English teacher.
Chip disappeared through the swinging door that led from the grill to the utility kitchen. Faye could hear the clank of glass on glass as he set the tray down next to the dishwasher. Liz hadn’t been smooth enough to manage a change of subject. Over the awkward silence, Faye could hear the sound of a refrigerator door opening and closing. Chip reappeared quickly, this time carrying a tray loaded with raw hamburger patties.
“You’re going to need these in a few minutes, Mom. Herbie and his friends are just now getting drunk enough to be hungry. I’ll be back in a minute to chop you some onions.”
Setting the tray down and squinting critically at the patties, Chip looked like an artist who was dissatisfied with his work. He picked up a lopsided burger and patted it back into shape, nodding as if to say that the patties now met his high standards. Wiping raw meat juice on his apron, he reached for an empty tray and carried it to yet another table that needed busing.
“He’s a good boy,” Liz said to no one in particular.
“Anyway.” She hunkered down and started whispering to Faye as if she’d just realized that she didn’t want Chip to overhear her. “He should’ve known that jumping into a bar fight was a dumb move. After all, he
Faye pondered. “Unless his money was going somewhere he doesn’t want to talk about.”
Liz pursed her lips and did some pondering of her own. “Yeah. Don’t you think for a minute that something like that hasn’t crossed my mind. I’ve tried to imagine all the worst things. Drugs. Alcohol, maybe. But he doesn’t act drunk or high, not ever. I hug him all the time, sniffing for liquor or cigarettes or pot. He drinks a little, but in this business, you learn to spot real drinking trouble fast. I know kids fool their parents all the time, but I try to be realistic. I just don’t see it.”
“Gambling.”
“Maybe. You can’t smell gambling debts. But if he’s in deep with a bookie, he sure ain’t come to me for money. If it got bad enough that he had to drop out of school, wouldn’t he act desperate? Wouldn’t he hit me up for a loan, or nag me to pay him more for his work? Or maybe even steal from me? I don’t get it.”
“No legal troubles?”
Sorrow pinched Liz’s brow and lips. Faye was so accustomed to her friend’s ever-affable zest for life that she wasn’t sure she’d know Liz if she saw her somewhere else, wearing that doleful face.
“He got himself arrested once, but it was a long time ago. He and his football buddies got themselves some fake IDs and they were a-strutting like roosters around some two-bit bar in Sopchoppy, crowing over their big victory. They looked a lot older than seventeen, so they would’ve got away with it if the quarterback hadn’t picked a fight with some of the regular customers. Chip wouldn’t ever have done something that stupid on his own, but he’ll follow somebody he looks up to. Why is that, I want to know? Men.”
“Sometimes I think that Y-chromosome is a birth defect. It sure makes men do some stupid things,” Faye said. “That’s why they named it ‘Why?’”
Joe, who had been studiously ignoring this conversation, cut a pair of eyes in her direction and grunted. Sometime in his GED preparation, he must have learned the purpose of a Y-chromosome and recognized her insult of the entire male gender for what it was.
Liz turned around to shove a tray of biscuits into the oven. She opened her mouth to resume talking about her favorite subject—her son—when that son turned and walked her way. Faye hid a smile, triggered by Liz’s obvious effort to stifle another outburst of maternal pride and concern.
Chip brushed by her, carrying a tray of dirty dishes. He used an elbow to give his mother a playful poke in the ribs as he passed, then he leaned over and kissed her on the top of the head. Liz beamed like an adolescent girl who has caught the attention of a handsome male English teacher.
Chip disappeared through the swinging door that led from the grill to the utility kitchen. Faye could hear the clank of glass on glass as he set the tray down next to the dishwasher. Liz hadn’t been smooth enough to manage a change of subject. Over the awkward silence, Faye could hear the sound of a refrigerator door opening and closing. Chip reappeared quickly, this time carrying a tray loaded with raw hamburger patties.
“You’re going to need these in a few minutes, Mom. Herbie and his friends are just now getting drunk enough to be hungry. I’ll be back in a minute to chop you some onions.”
Setting the tray down and squinting critically at the patties, Chip looked like an artist who was dissatisfied with his work. He picked up a lopsided burger and patted it back into shape, nodding as if to say that the patties now met his high standards. Wiping raw meat juice on his apron, he reached for an empty tray and carried it to yet another table that needed busing.
“He’s a good boy,” Liz said to no one in particular.
“Anyway.” She hunkered down and started whispering to Faye as if she’d just realized that she didn’t want Chip to overhear her. “He should’ve known that jumping into a bar fight was a dumb move. After all, he
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