Fallout (Crank 3)

sit on the yellow/brown swirled

carpet. Wait. Listen, as beyond

the far door, conversation

becomes animated. Not loud,

not really, so if they’re arguing,

it isn’t with much conviction.

It takes quite a while before

the door opens and Trey

gestures for me to come on

inside. Once again, I get an urge

to turn and run. But I don’t.

The room is neat, except for

a collage of empty bottles—wine,

beer, gin, Coke, and mineral water.

It’s enough to make my mouth

start to water. I could use

a gulp or two of liquid courage.

I look at Maureen. “Hello.”

She stares back curiously.

Are you crazy? The question

is so matter-of-fact, it catches

me completely off guard.

“Wha-what do you mean?” Panic

attacks? OCD? She doesn’t

know about those things, right?

Or is she just talking genetics?

SHE SITS QUIETLY

For a couple of seconds. Finally

says, Why do you want to stir up

a mess of trouble for yourself?