“Should blow o’er in no time at-all,” the greasy-haired station attendant had drawled, cigarette hanging out of the corner of his mouth as he rang up the cost of another hot chocolate. “Radar shows it’s mostly to the south, though, so ya’ shouldn’t have trouble gettin’ on up da road ta Lubbock, darlin’.”
“Well, I know he misses you and wants to see you.”
“But it came furnished, and he just did it to help the boys. It’s not a real home, but an investment property, he says. And, well, maybe not pathetic, but different, then, totally different from the way I live. I don’t understand someone like that. Not to want to put down roots ... not to build something solid.”
“No, no. I don’t think that at all. In fact I know he hasn’t. I think ... I know ... oh, I don’t know what I know anymore,” I said in sheer exasperation.