“Sam, food’s on the table.”
Feeling flush, I lowered my head and splashed water on my face.
“Sam?”
“I’ll be out in a minute,” I said, using the hand towel to dry my face. I hoped it was a minute. I had my doubts. It had taken nearly the entire car ride home to lose my erection.
14
Donna did not work Thursday or Friday. I contemplated making some excuse to ask my father for her phone number, like she left something in my car, but the longer I chickened out, the less plausible that excuse became. Besides, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to muster the courage to call her, or to hold a conversation for very long.
When Saturday finally arrived, I lay on the couch in the family room trying to act interested in a baseball game as I waited until Donna’s shift began at noon. At eleven forty-five, I was about to leave when I answered a knock at the front door. Mickie stepped past me into the family room.
“Hey, where you been? I called you last night.”
“I had an assignment for the Times,” I said. “I got home too late to call you back.”
“Since when?”
Mickie and I often talked well into the night and early morning, though I had to initiate anything after eleven to keep my mother from answering the phone.
“I was tired.”
She sat in the chair and put her feet up on the ottoman. “Westworld is playing,” she said. Mickie liked movies that scared the shit out of her.
She looked to the television. “Why are you watching UCLA? Isn’t Stanford playing?”
“No. They’re not televised, and I don’t think I can go to the movies.”
“Why not?”
“I got stuff to do,” I said.
She picked up the newspaper, flipping to the movie section. “Like what?”
“I have to study.”
“Come on, Hill. It’s Saturday. You can’t get any higher than an A-plus in every class.”
I was about to protest further when my mother walked in and brightened at the sight of Mickie. My mother’s love for Mickie puzzled me; I was certain she knew Mickie wasn’t exactly chaste, if not the full extent of Mickie’s sexual exploits, and I couldn’t think of anything short of a major crime, like murder, that would have made my mother more disappointed than to find out that her son was not a virgin, though I still very much remained one.
“Hi, Mrs. H, I’m kidnapping Sam to the movies.”
“Good. He’s been moping around here the past two days. Get him outside.”
“I haven’t been—”
“Have we been grumpy?” Mickie pinched my cheek.
“Stop.”
“Someone is grumpy. Don’t worry, Mrs. H. If I can’t cheer him up, I’ll slap the grumpy out of him. Let’s go, Hill. You heard your mother. Get your jacket and car keys. You can buy the tickets since you’re employed.”
15
As we drove the El Camino with the top down, Mickie slid across the seat to her customary position next to me. I turned down Broadway.
“It’s at the Century Cinema,” she said.
“I want to take the freeway. And I need to stop and see my dad.”
Broadway bustled on Saturdays. People ran errands they couldn’t get to during the week or ate leisurely breakfasts at one of the diners. I lucked out and found a parking space in front of my dad’s store and searched the ashtray for change to pay the meter. When I looked up, I saw Donna at the counter, staring through the window at the tableau of Mickie sitting pressed beside me. I quickly opened the door and got out. “I’ll be back in a minute.”