NINE
I drove around for a while. I wished I had a girlfriend I could talk to. Not that I actually wanted to talk. I could go to Joan’s and get drunk.
That sounded like fun.
Christ. I hadn’t even found out if Hayword liked Beauty and the Zombie.
David texted me right away. “Fern is a bitch.”
“Don’t call your sister that. Don’t call any girl or woman that.”
“What about boys?”
“Knock yourself out. I might not get home until after you’re asleep.”
“Knock yourself out.”
I laughed. I texted, “Eye love u sew much.”
“Sew much,” he texted back.
When David was younger and learning to spell, he often got confused by the soundalikes. One year he gave me a Valentine’s Day card that read, “Eye love u sew much, Mom.” So we’d been loving each other “sew much” for years.
Soon, no doubt, I wouldn
