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“Do you have to drive to the courthouse often?”
“Not the courthouse, but the area.”
“What’s there?”
“Lots of cool things.”
She turned and looked at me for the first time since we left the parking garage. “Like what?”
“A few museums, stuff like that.”
“What museums?”
“One is a Civil War museum.”
“That does sound cool.”
It was one of my favorite places. My grandfather used to take me there when I was a kid. Now, when the stress of my job got to be too much, I’d jump in the car and drive down there. Just sitting on a bench and people watching, like my gramps and I used to, was enough to melt my tension away.
“I’d like to see it sometime. It sounds interesting.”
“Yeah?”
“There’s nothing like that in California.” She laughed. “Lots of Spanish missions, though.”
“I’d like to see a mission sometime.”
“Yeah?” she asked like I had.
We spent the rest of the drive talking about the places where we grew up. They couldn’t have been more different.
The mechanic wasn’t open when we got there, but we only had about fifteen minutes to wait.
“I shouldn’t have drank so much coffee,” I heard her mumble.
I started the car back up and drove down the road to a diner I knew was open. “I need to use the facilities too,” I explained when I parked near the front door.
I waited for her by the entrance after I’d used the men’s room.
“Hang on,” she said, holding up a finger when I opened the door to go out.
“I was wondering if I could get a piece of that pie to go,” she said to the waitress behind the counter.
“Of course, darlin’. You want that warmed up?”
“No, thank you. I’m not going to eat it until later, anyway.”
“Here you go, doll,” said the woman. I watched Ali hand her a five-dollar bill and turn to walk away. “Miss,” called out the woman, “don’t forget your change.”
“That’s okay. Please keep it.”
“I brought yogurt,” I said once we were back in the car.
“I know. I just think it’s rude to use the restroom and not buy anything.”
“I think they’re used to it.”
She shrugged. “Maybe I’ll be hungry later. Or you will.”
