side of the clearing. She was squatting Indian style, her arms crossed in front of her knees. She was right beside the Piece of Shit. She watched him intently.
He put the pan on the fire and thought of the bottle in his pocket. He took it out and gauged that it was over two thirds full. He started to take a drink, but instead he moved slowly towards her and offered the bottle with his arm fully outstretched.
Before she could react, he withdrew his arm slightly. "How old are you?" He didn't want to get into trouble by giving liquor to a minor. As soon as he thought that, he smiled to himself at his naïveté - a sip of liquor was probably one of the mildest things this girl had done. He thought of that biker, Ax, and wondered what had brought her to this place in her life.
This time, she answered without any hesitation, "I'm eighteen."
In fact, she did look at least that old. In some ways she looked a lot older - it was her eyes, mostly. Eighteen was too young to legally have liquor, but her hand was still in the air, reaching for the bottle. To heck with it.
He offered her the bottle and she took it. She took a tiny sip and handled it back.
He continued his preparations. The fillets were pretty small. "When's the last time you ate?"
Now she was obviously studying her memory. "Yesterday. They all got drunk and passed out. I found some chips and a candy bar. They never noticed."
Fallon had lived through some lean times, but he always kept a good supply of canned goods and staples like flour and sugar and salt in the Airstream. When he was broke and payday wasn't until next week, he'd always managed to get by without being truly hungry. The feeling that he was better off than one of his fellow human beings was a strange one to him.
He went inside and brought out a can of baked beans and put them on to warm. They exchanged the bottle a few more times until the sound of sirens in the distance brought her quickly to her feet. She had alarm on her face.
"Don't worry. I would guess the hiker that owns the Escort returned from his walk around the lake and found that fat bastard lying there in the parking lot. He probably called 911. The cops will take care of things; maybe take your boyfriend to the hospital." Fallon had a vision of the fat turd having to undergo some type of dick surgery. He hoped it hurt.
"They don't know this place is here - I guess few people do."
She mumbled something, but he couldn't hear. He asked her to repeat and she said, "Mister, he's not my boyfriend." She resumed squatting.
***
When the food was ready, Fallon divided it equally on two chipped plates of the four he had left. He'd started years ago with a brand new set of eight complete place settings, but his china was a lot like his life - it had dwindled over the years; cracking and chipping and finally breaking so that many of the original pieces had been discarded.
He took both plates and sat on the ground about six feet away from her. He handed her one of the plates and then put the bottle midway between them. It was about one third full.
She looked at the food very closely as if she was trying to decide if it was real. She closed her eyes and Fallon wondered if she was offering thanks. He checked, but God's ledge was empty so He wouldn't hear even if she was praying.
If it was a prayer, it didn't last long. She put a full fork of beans in her mouth and seemed to start swallowing almost before she had time to chew. She did it again and then she noticed him watching. For the first time ever, she smiled at him. It was just a little one, just a hint, but it was there. "I guess I forgot my manners," she said.
They ate in silence and finished the bottle. The late afternoon sun deserted them and the twilight was augmented by the red coals in the stone grill. In the forest, they could hear the sounds of insects calling to each other.
***
Just as Fallon
He put the pan on the fire and thought of the bottle in his pocket. He took it out and gauged that it was over two thirds full. He started to take a drink, but instead he moved slowly towards her and offered the bottle with his arm fully outstretched.
Before she could react, he withdrew his arm slightly. "How old are you?" He didn't want to get into trouble by giving liquor to a minor. As soon as he thought that, he smiled to himself at his naïveté - a sip of liquor was probably one of the mildest things this girl had done. He thought of that biker, Ax, and wondered what had brought her to this place in her life.
This time, she answered without any hesitation, "I'm eighteen."
In fact, she did look at least that old. In some ways she looked a lot older - it was her eyes, mostly. Eighteen was too young to legally have liquor, but her hand was still in the air, reaching for the bottle. To heck with it.
He offered her the bottle and she took it. She took a tiny sip and handled it back.
He continued his preparations. The fillets were pretty small. "When's the last time you ate?"
Now she was obviously studying her memory. "Yesterday. They all got drunk and passed out. I found some chips and a candy bar. They never noticed."
Fallon had lived through some lean times, but he always kept a good supply of canned goods and staples like flour and sugar and salt in the Airstream. When he was broke and payday wasn't until next week, he'd always managed to get by without being truly hungry. The feeling that he was better off than one of his fellow human beings was a strange one to him.
He went inside and brought out a can of baked beans and put them on to warm. They exchanged the bottle a few more times until the sound of sirens in the distance brought her quickly to her feet. She had alarm on her face.
"Don't worry. I would guess the hiker that owns the Escort returned from his walk around the lake and found that fat bastard lying there in the parking lot. He probably called 911. The cops will take care of things; maybe take your boyfriend to the hospital." Fallon had a vision of the fat turd having to undergo some type of dick surgery. He hoped it hurt.
"They don't know this place is here - I guess few people do."
She mumbled something, but he couldn't hear. He asked her to repeat and she said, "Mister, he's not my boyfriend." She resumed squatting.
***
When the food was ready, Fallon divided it equally on two chipped plates of the four he had left. He'd started years ago with a brand new set of eight complete place settings, but his china was a lot like his life - it had dwindled over the years; cracking and chipping and finally breaking so that many of the original pieces had been discarded.
He took both plates and sat on the ground about six feet away from her. He handed her one of the plates and then put the bottle midway between them. It was about one third full.
She looked at the food very closely as if she was trying to decide if it was real. She closed her eyes and Fallon wondered if she was offering thanks. He checked, but God's ledge was empty so He wouldn't hear even if she was praying.
If it was a prayer, it didn't last long. She put a full fork of beans in her mouth and seemed to start swallowing almost before she had time to chew. She did it again and then she noticed him watching. For the first time ever, she smiled at him. It was just a little one, just a hint, but it was there. "I guess I forgot my manners," she said.
They ate in silence and finished the bottle. The late afternoon sun deserted them and the twilight was augmented by the red coals in the stone grill. In the forest, they could hear the sounds of insects calling to each other.
***
Just as Fallon
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