my own son. We’re on the same team, right?
She was restricting, though. I could hear it perfectly, nasal pressure. That’s a warning in Lyle’s book. Nose talking means nervousness.
If you want to be with me, you’ll have to stay here, I said. My throat was as unrestricted as a python about to swallow a mouse.
Watch your rudeness, Mom told me back, clenched and sharp. Don’t you talk to me like that. But then she kind of sagged, as if a lead ball had rolled to the pit of her stomach, and I knew she was feeling unfixed on everything—her plan, me, and who was really on her team.
She sat there on my bed until I told her, Okay, good night.
Still she sat, trying to think up what to answer. Except for all there was to say was good night, which she finally did, quiet and through her nose.
I knew there’d be more, and there was, but not that night. That night, all she could do was stand up and walk out, scared off by the sound of the voice Lyle gave me.
“I T WON’T MAKE A DIFFERENCE if I wear one or not,” I tell Lyle, but he grumbles.
“She does this for attention. Gina sets up these silly obstacles,” Lyle says to Mallory once we’ve pulled onto the highway.
Mallory doesn’t answer.
Back at the motel, he keeps jawing. “I never knew Gina to walk into a coat-and-tie restaurant. Fast food, that’s what she loves. Fried chicken, fried fish, French fries, fried—”
“Okay, enough.” Mallory shakes her head. “Let’s put an angle on the positive. For one thing, there are shopping malls everywhere.”
Lyle frowns and slaps open the side locks of his suitcase, pushing through everything in it. “She knows we wouldn’t pack a tie, let alone a … a dinner jacket!”
Mallory looks over at me and winks. “You sound like you could use a nap,” she says to Lyle. “Bennett and I are going to check out that pool.”
“No, no,” says Lyle but then he puts his hands on his eyes, like he’s testing out how a nap might feel.
“We’ll wake you if we need you,” Mallory says. “You’re exhausted.”
“She’s right,” I say. Lyle looks yellow, the last-week-of-a-bruise color. He thinks on it and then agrees, but only if we wake him up in an hour.
“We’re out of here,” Mallory whispers as soon as we’re both walking outside. She takes the car keys out of her pocketbook and clinks them together. “If I had to hear that man go on one more second, I swear I’d have popped him a knuckle sandwich.”
“Where are we going?”
“Shopping, of course.”
It’s my second trip of the day with just Mallory, and I mention something about that.
“Yeah, we’re good together, you and I, Bennett,” she answers. “Although for the life of me, I don’t know what we have in common.”
I’d been thinking on that, too, and I have an answer ready. “We speak out of our stomachs and say what we mean,” I tell her.
First Mallory frowns like she doesn’t understand, but then her eyebrows push up over her sunglasses as she nods her head, and I know she gets it.
Lip twitch gives us directions to a department store, which we find easy. Soon as we walk through the sliding doors, Mallory’s got everybody snapped to attention. In ten minutes, I’ve sampled more shirts and jackets and dress pants than I ever wore in my entire life.
Mallory says my hair and eyes need a vibrant palette. She uses lots of Very Special words like that, and both of the sales guys eat it up.
Finally, we go with a tan sports coat and navy pants with a white shirt and a navy-and-red striped tie.
“You don’t have to do this, Mal,” I tell her as she hands her credit card to one of the sales guys.
“Bennett, have you ever owned a sports coat that wasn’t handed down from Dustin?”
I think on that, and the answer seems to be no. “See, I never had much use for one,” I begin. “Dustin’s ones always fit enough.”
“There’s this saying,” says Mallory, and then she tells me some scrambly French words that
She was restricting, though. I could hear it perfectly, nasal pressure. That’s a warning in Lyle’s book. Nose talking means nervousness.
If you want to be with me, you’ll have to stay here, I said. My throat was as unrestricted as a python about to swallow a mouse.
Watch your rudeness, Mom told me back, clenched and sharp. Don’t you talk to me like that. But then she kind of sagged, as if a lead ball had rolled to the pit of her stomach, and I knew she was feeling unfixed on everything—her plan, me, and who was really on her team.
She sat there on my bed until I told her, Okay, good night.
Still she sat, trying to think up what to answer. Except for all there was to say was good night, which she finally did, quiet and through her nose.
I knew there’d be more, and there was, but not that night. That night, all she could do was stand up and walk out, scared off by the sound of the voice Lyle gave me.
“I T WON’T MAKE A DIFFERENCE if I wear one or not,” I tell Lyle, but he grumbles.
“She does this for attention. Gina sets up these silly obstacles,” Lyle says to Mallory once we’ve pulled onto the highway.
Mallory doesn’t answer.
Back at the motel, he keeps jawing. “I never knew Gina to walk into a coat-and-tie restaurant. Fast food, that’s what she loves. Fried chicken, fried fish, French fries, fried—”
“Okay, enough.” Mallory shakes her head. “Let’s put an angle on the positive. For one thing, there are shopping malls everywhere.”
Lyle frowns and slaps open the side locks of his suitcase, pushing through everything in it. “She knows we wouldn’t pack a tie, let alone a … a dinner jacket!”
Mallory looks over at me and winks. “You sound like you could use a nap,” she says to Lyle. “Bennett and I are going to check out that pool.”
“No, no,” says Lyle but then he puts his hands on his eyes, like he’s testing out how a nap might feel.
“We’ll wake you if we need you,” Mallory says. “You’re exhausted.”
“She’s right,” I say. Lyle looks yellow, the last-week-of-a-bruise color. He thinks on it and then agrees, but only if we wake him up in an hour.
“We’re out of here,” Mallory whispers as soon as we’re both walking outside. She takes the car keys out of her pocketbook and clinks them together. “If I had to hear that man go on one more second, I swear I’d have popped him a knuckle sandwich.”
“Where are we going?”
“Shopping, of course.”
It’s my second trip of the day with just Mallory, and I mention something about that.
“Yeah, we’re good together, you and I, Bennett,” she answers. “Although for the life of me, I don’t know what we have in common.”
I’d been thinking on that, too, and I have an answer ready. “We speak out of our stomachs and say what we mean,” I tell her.
First Mallory frowns like she doesn’t understand, but then her eyebrows push up over her sunglasses as she nods her head, and I know she gets it.
Lip twitch gives us directions to a department store, which we find easy. Soon as we walk through the sliding doors, Mallory’s got everybody snapped to attention. In ten minutes, I’ve sampled more shirts and jackets and dress pants than I ever wore in my entire life.
Mallory says my hair and eyes need a vibrant palette. She uses lots of Very Special words like that, and both of the sales guys eat it up.
Finally, we go with a tan sports coat and navy pants with a white shirt and a navy-and-red striped tie.
“You don’t have to do this, Mal,” I tell her as she hands her credit card to one of the sales guys.
“Bennett, have you ever owned a sports coat that wasn’t handed down from Dustin?”
I think on that, and the answer seems to be no. “See, I never had much use for one,” I begin. “Dustin’s ones always fit enough.”
“There’s this saying,” says Mallory, and then she tells me some scrambly French words that
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