Glass (Crank 2)

I crawl toward layaway. Finally I’m

just about there, and digging for my

layaway slip, which of course I can’t

find. They’ll have to use my phone

number. Oops. Mom’s phone number.

Well, let me know if you can make it, Quade

says. Here’s my cell number. We fire up at nine.

“Thanks. I’ll definitely try. The only holdup

might be snow. They’re calling for a killer storm.”

Cool. Let me know either way. And either

way, stay in touch. He gives me a hug

and heads toward the monster checkout

lines. I watch him go as the lame layaway

girl says, Picking up a layaway? Unreal!

Layaway Picked Up

And a couple of leftover baubles

bought for Brad and the girls,

I drive back to Red Rock.

Somehow it still doesn’t feel like

home,

even if it is where my clothes reside;

where I go to sleep (sometimes)

at night; where I eat (sometimes);

where people (strangers) wait

for

me to come back to. No, “home”

is the other direction, in a protected

south valley, not here in a frigid

north valley Hades hole. [What

the