Verdad

I walked away from the boy. We'd found the book his sister wanted so I left him smiling and picking out a book for himself, but I had to get some coffee.

My Barnes and Noble Member card was expired of course, so after paying for another year (as a hapless sucker) and collecting my change and coffee, I see the boy, still smiling, walking up.

-26 bucks for a cup of coffee! Whaduya think of that?- I ask loudly, wadding my money up for safe storage.

He shakes his head so slyly -Well, how big is it?-

Me and the chick laugh. And before we can say anything else, we're shooed away by an Asian girl intent on stealing our spotlight. I saunter over to the cream and sugar counter to finish preparing my coffee. Now I'm an honorary employee I suppose.

An old lady beside me takes a huge handful of Splenda out of the holder. -Takin' some home?- I ask loudly. She ignores me, but not the boy.

-Dad.- he says, more head shaking.

-I'm just glad she left some for me.-

-Hey, I'm thirsty too. Can I get something?- He asks.

-Sure.- I say and we head back over to the chick. She's my buddy cause she broke a hundred for me. -We forgot the boy,- I say to her.

-Can I get you something?- She asks me, but I break her gaze and look at the boy.

-Oh, can I get an Iced tea?-

And before she can ask, I light up, -What kind? Brown, Red, Green, Asian?- in a staccato!

He laughs, -Green.-

-Hot, iced, shaken, stirred?- I keep on.

-Iced,- he says. He looks at the chick. I do too, and I see they have a connection. They have a need for me to stop.

-Unsweetened? Sweetened? Lemoned? Limed?- I fire away.

The boy laughs now, hands jammed into the hoodie pockets, the Northwest Middle School Track Hoodie that he wears on an eighty degree day because he just got it. -Sweet.- he says.

We both laugh, the chick does not. She looks at the boy, -What size?-

-D'oh!- I laugh. -She got us, boy!-

-Medium,- he says, still smiling.

The chick punches some keys, and like a navy officer, turns around and delegates the order in words and jargon that only another iced tea slash coffee server in a book store can understand...which I won't repeat.

I see our name on the back of his hoodie and now poke at him. -Mother's head?! Is that your real name?-

He cuts his eyes at me, or were they rolling? -Shut up, dad.-

We collect the drink, then a straw, and then he asks, -Dad, why are you so stupid?-

-I think it's my dad's fault.-

He starts to head for the check out area, and I say, -Hey, can I get something too?-

The boy stops. -What are you gonna get? Lemme guess.- He rolls his eyes. -Hemingway.-

-Maybe,- I say. I got swindled on the last two Hemingways, so I wasn't too awful keen, but I head to that aisle.

-Dad, if you were gay, you'd marry Hemingway.-

I'm so tired from lack of sleep, and the coffee hasn't kicked in, that I got nothing. -Son,- I say, touching a copy of "The Road", -If I were gay, then the trick would be to get Hemingway to marry me.-