Margaret nodded. 'Yeah, I know how that is. When we were just getting our business started, I never saw the light of day. I was up before dawn, not home until after sunset. Work-eat-sleep. That was my life.'
She smiled. 'But now I have time for play. So what about after work today? You're almost off. You want to come along, have a few drinks?'
'I'm not sure.'
'Come on. It'll be fun.'
April looked down at her desk, concentrated on picking up a paper clip.
The offer was tempting, the pull was strong. It was not just the inducement of a good time. There was something else as well, something more subtle; the promise of belonging, the same sympathetic camaraderie she'd felt the other night. She looked up at Margaret, thought of her other new friends, and felt her resolve slipping.
But then she thought of Dion, sitting alone at home, waiting for her, worried about her. What the hell kind of mother was she? How could she even think about leaving him to fend for himself while she was out on the town?
But then, he was old enough to take care of himself.
'Okay,' she said.
Margaret smiled. 'Great!' She leaned forward conspiratorily. 'Do I
have some stories to tell you. Remember that construction worker I told you about?'
'The one with the--?'
'Yeah. Well, that wasn't the end of that tale.' She raised her eyebrows comically and stood. 'I'm going to stop by and talk to Joan. I'll meet you back here in a few minutes, okay?'
'Okay.' April watched her new friend walk purposefully across the lobby to the teller window where Joan now stood counting her money. The two talked for a moment, and Joan glanced over, smiling and waving.
April waved back. She looked down at her phone, thought of calling Dion to tell him she'd be a little late, then decided against it.
Five minutes later, the bank closed.
Ten minutes later, the three of them were in Margaret's car, laughing about the construction worker, heading down Main Street toward the Redwood Terrace.
The week passed in that quirky time rhythm which always seemed to be generated by school--individual days that crept slowly by yet somehow added up to a quick week overall. Dion had planned out several conversational paths to take with Penelope, but she was absent Monday, and by Tuesday his bravery had fled. They nodded to each other, said hi, but the tentative stab at friendship they had made at lunch on Friday did not seem to have survived the weekend. They were strangers again, awkward and distant with each other, merely classmates. On Thursday, however, Dion caught her looking at him when she thought his attention was directed elsewhere, and that cheered him up immensely.
He and his mother had not spoken since the beginning of the week, the night she hadn't come home until nearly ten. This time she really had been drunk, old-style drunk, staggering, laughing, talking to herself, her speech slurred. She had ignored him that night, ignored his attempts to talk to her, to find out what had happened and why, and he had been ignoring her ever since, trying to punish her with his pointed silence, although it didn't seem to be working. He was more disappointed than anything else, more hurt than angry, but she probably thought he was furious at her. It was a tense situation, and one that wasn't getting any better, and he was dreading the weekend.
Dion saw Kevin in the parking lot after school, standing next to a red Mustang, talking to a long-haired boy he didn't recognize. He'd been planning to walk straight home, but Kevin called out his name, motioned him over, and Dion crossed the asphalt to where the other two boys waited.
Kevin turned toward Dion as he approached. 'So what're your plans for tonight? What're you doing? Twanging your tater?' .
'Could be. I got this picture of your sister I bought last week.'
Kevin laughed. 'Well if you're not doing anything, you want to go cruising around with us? Who knows? Maybe we'll get lucky and find us some hitchhikers.' He pointed at the license plate frame on the back of the Mustang. Written on the thin metal was the stock phrase 'Ass, Gas, or Grass: No One Rides for Free.' Underneath this had been attached an addendum: 'And I have a full tank and I don't smoke.'
Dion laughed.
'Whattaya say?'
'I don't know.'
'You're not gonna pussy out on us, are you?'
Dion thought for a moment. The phrase cruising around carried connotations of passed bottles and passed joints in dark car backseats, images which made him extremely uncomfortable. On the other hand, he didn't want to alienate the only friend he'd made here so far. He looked at the long-haired kid leaning against the hood of the Mustang, and turned back toward Kevin. 'Where're you going to go?'
'We're going to have some fun with Father Ralph.'
'Who's Father Ralph?'
'Episcopal priest,' Kevin said.
The long-haired kid grinned. 'My dad.'
Dion shook his head. 'I'd like to, but I already- have some plans. Maybe next time.'
Kevin looked at him. 'What plans do you have? Sitting at home with your mom? Come on, it'll be fun.'
Dion felt his options narrowing. 'What are we going to do?'
'You'll see when we get there,' the long-haired kid said.
'Paul always likes to keep it a secret,' Kevin explained, 'retain the element of surprise. But I guarantee you it'll be great.'
'It's not illegal, is it?'
'Fuck it,' Paul said. 'This guy's a pussy. Let's leave him.'
'No.' Kevin moved defensively next to Dion. 'I go, he goes.'
'That's okay--' Dion began.
'No, it's not. You want to sit with your momma and watch the damn TV
while we're harassing Father Ralph and looking for bimbos?'
Yes, Dion wanted to answer, but he said, 'No.'
'Fine.' Kevin nodded to Paul. 'We'll meet you at eight at Burgertime.'
Paul shrugged his shoulders, smiling indulgently. 'See you there, then.'
Paul got into the Mustang, racing his engine, and Dion and Kevin walked across the parking lot toward Kevin's Toyota. 'He's kind of a wang sometimes,' Kevin said apologetically, 'but overall he's all right. You get used to him.'
'You guys hang out together a lot?'
'Not as much as we used to.'
'So why does he hate his dad so much?'
'He doesn't hate him. It's just ... well, it's a long story.' They reached the car, and Kevin used his key to open the door. 'We'll go by your place, tell your mom the plan, then we'll cruise by my house.'
'Okay,' Dion said. 'Sounds good.'
'Unless you want to skip telling your mom, give her a little scare, pay her back, let her wait up for you this time.'
'I'd like to, but I'd better not.'
'It's your call,' Kevin said.
The two of them got into the car, and Kevin put his key in the ignition.
'Fasten your safety belts.'
Before Dion could comply, they were off.
Kevin's room was the type usually seen only in movies. The walls were decorated with what looked like authentic posters of old horror films sandwiched in between an amazing collection of metal signs: stop signs, street names, yield signs, Coke signs. From the ceiling hung a lit display advertising 7-Up.
The shelves above the king size waterbed contained row after row of records. In the corner, next to the free-standing television, was a working traffic signal, flashing green-yellow-red in sequential order, and next to that
