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"Did it work?" she asked.
I shrugged again, but she kept looking at me until I gave in and spoke. "I was just thinking about him. Wanted an excuse to check on him, I guess."
"How is he doing, without his father?"
"I think he's okay," I said. "Most people don't seem to like their dads much."
She leaned into me, her shoulder against mine. I knew we were both thinking about my dad, but we had never been good at talking about him. "I wonder if you would have clashed with your father."
I didn't say anything.
"He would've understood you, that's for sure. He got your whys in a way I never could. But he was such a worrier, and you might have found that exhausting. I know I did, sometimes."
"You worry, too," I said.
"I suppose. Mostly about you."
"I don't mind worriers," I said. "Worrying is the correct worldview. Life is worrisome."
"You sound just like him." She smiled a little. "I still can't believe he left us." She said it like it was a decision, like he'd been mowing the lawn that day and thought, I think I'll fall down dead now.
--
I cooked dinner that night, a macaroni scramble with canned vegetables, boxed macaroni, and some proper cheddar cheese, and then we ate while watching a reality show about regular people trying to survive in the wild. My phone finally buzzed while Mom and I were doing the dishes--Daisy telling me she'd arrived at Applebee's--so I told Mom I'd be back by midnight and reunited with Harold, who was, as always, a pure delight.
Applebee's is a chain of mid-quality restaurants serving "American food," which essentially means that Everything Features Cheese. Last year, some kid had showed up on our doorstep and talked my mom into buying a huge coupon book to support his Boy Scout troop or something, and the book turned out to include sixty Applebee's coupons offering "Two burgers for $11." Daisy and I had been working our way through them ever since.
She was waiting for me at a booth, changed out of her work shirt and into a scoop-neck turquoise top, staring into the depths of her phone. Daisy didn't have a computer, so she did everything on her phone, from texting to writing fan fiction. She could type on it faster than I could on a regular keyboard.
"Have you ever gotten a dick pic?" she asked in lieu of saying hello.
"Um, I've seen one," I said, scooting into the bench across from her.
"Well, of course you've see one, Holmesy. Christ, I'm not asking if you're a seventeenth-century nun. I mean have you ever received an unsolicited, no-context dick pic. Like, a dick pic as a form of introduction."
"Not really," I said.
"Look at this," she said, and handed me her phone.
"Yeah, that's a penis," I said, squinting and turning it slightly counterclockwise.
"Right, but can we talk about it for a minute?"
"Can we please not?" I dropped the phone as Holly, our server, appeared at the table. Holly was our server quite regularly, and she wasn't exactly a card-carrying member of the Daisy and Holmesy fan club, possibly on account of our coupon-driven Applebee's strategy and limited resources for tipping.
Daisy spoke up, as she always did. "Holly, have you ever received--"
"Nope," I said. "No no no." I looked up at Holly. "I'd just like a water with no food please, but around nine forty-five I'll take a veggie burger, no mayonnaise no condiments at all, just a veggie burger and bun in a to-go box please. With fries."
"And you'll have the Blazin' Texan burger?" Holly asked Daisy.
"With a glass of red wine, please."
Holly just stared at her.
"Fine. Water."
"I assume y'all have a coupon?" Holly asked.
