I didn’t see you.
I sleep on the floor, in this here bag.
Always?
Not ’nuff room on the bed there, with a man friend always with Momma.
Oh.
I’m too old to sleep with Momma anyway.
So how old are you?
When I was smaller, I used to.
What?
They would do it while I was there next to them. They thought I was asleep but I weren’t.
Oh.
Like I heard you two last night.
Oh?
She said I never knew my Daddy. You like my Momma?
I said I guessed I did.
She said do you now?
Sure.
Bet she looked diff rent in the mornin’ than she did in that bar. And you’re younger than she is.
I said old story; story of my life; older women.
Isabelle asked how old I was.
I told her.
She said oh that ain’t so old.
Maybe not.
She said Momma’s forty-eight.
I laughed.
She asked what’s so funny?
Last night she told me she was thirty-eight, she told me.
Isabella said oh, then I guess she is.
I said those women
She said whaddya mean
Oh, you know.
I dunno. But you like my Momma, right?
Sure.
I think she likes you, too. But she had to get off to work, y’know.
I know. She said I could sleep a bit. But I couldn’t fall back to sleep.
Isabelle said so instead you smoke that smelly cig’rette.
I asked does it bother you?
She said yes.
I said I’d put it out, and I did.
I asked where does your mother work?
Didn’t she tell you?
No.
She’s a waitress.
That I know. Where?
This dumb ol’ diner.
Oh.
Surprised?
No.
I didn’t think so.
I asked her, again how old she was.
She asked why do you wanna know?
I said I just do.
How old do I look?
Dunno.
Guess, you silly.
Fifteen?
She smiled and said no.
Fourteen?
No.
You can’t be thirteen?
Yes.
Thirteen?
Yes.
Thirteen.
Thirteen.
I said well.
Well what?
I said young.
She said so.
I said so.
She said I was gonna make breakfast. You want some breakfast?
I said that would be nice.
(CUT TO:)
We were sitting on the floor of the trailer, eating scrambled eggs amp;bacon.
I said this is really good.
Isabelle said oh you’re just sayin’ that.
I said I haven’t had a nice home-cooked meal since – since I dunno. This is really good.
She said Momma taught me how to cook. Said I needed to know ’cause one day I’d be on my own and all that. Ahh, one day I’ll find a man and marry him and have babies and I’ll have to cook for him and the babies. Hmmmn. I wonder what that will be like.
What?
Gettin’ hitched and all.
I said that’s a long way for you.
She said I just know I’ll be happy! I’ll only marry a man that’ll make me happy. I don’t wanna be sad. Like Momma is sometimes. She still loves Daddy whoever he is.
I went ummmn, eating eggs.
She said I never knew him.
I said that’s too bad.
She said my babies will know their daddy. We’ll all be happy together. Never have to worry about a thing in the world – food or money or rapists or killers. We’ll have a house. The house will be clean. We’ll have cars. Credit cards. VCRs. We’ll go to operas and art galleries. We’ll fly to Europe.
Um-hm.
You don’t believe me?
I do.
You ever been married?
Nah.
Why not?
I was engaged once, when I was twenty-one. Just not too long ago. But that’s a different story; in fact, it’s a different life.
