“I sense you’d rather not talk about yourself, Bobby Ray,” he eventually said. “Are you hiding something?”
I glugged my water. “Um, sort of,” I said. And if I talked too much about it, we might’ve had a little possession to look forward to for dessert.
He chuckled. “Well, at least you’re honest about it.”
I nodded and blurted out, “I have a favor to ask you, Abe.”
He shrugged and smiled. “You want me to pay for dinner?” He took a sip of his water.
“I want you to take me to Gaza.” He did a spit-take. I thought you only saw those in movies, but nope; people sprayed water on you even in Jerusalem. Did that make it holy water? Was I suddenly absolved of my sins? Yeah, we’d need a heck of a lot more than a measly glass of it then.
I wiped the water from my face. He wiped the dribble from
