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Can’t believe this place is so crowded.
Must have been a whole herd of mooing
Thanksgiving burgers. We have to wait
outside for almost a half hour.
Dad and Kortni smoke. Regular
cigarettes, thank God. I move upwind,
stand off to one side. Don’t want to
think any more about Mom right now.
So I’ll think about Kyle instead.
I’d rather be spending today with
him, think he probably wishes
the same. Poor guy. Dysfunction
pretty much defines his family
too. His mom died eight years
ago, a DUI fatality. “DUI” meaning
“diving under the influence” into
a fast-running but shallow section
of the Kern River. The coroner
ruled it an accident, but Kyle
believes the act was purposeful.
Sick of Dad’s shit, he called it.
The bitch went and left us alone
with him. Just goes to show
how little she cared about us.
“Us,” meaning him and his sister,
Sadie. Deserted by their mother.
Left with an alcoholic father
and his own string of girlfriends.
Probably why Kyle and I are
so good together. The old
