Fallout (Crank 3)

heat control, mostly because

it gives my hands something

to do besides tremble. By some

unspoken agreement, neither

of us says a word until we’re

well on our way out of town.

THE HIGHWAY IS MOSTLY CLEAR

But Grandpa drives cautiously.

Have to be careful of black ice,

is his explanation. It is all he says

for a while. But finally he broaches

the necessary inquiry. So we

hadn’t expected you this year.

And Kristina didn’t know you were

coming either. He pauses. Waits.

“It was a last-minute decision,”

I try. “We wanted to surprise you.”

You definitely did that. His voice

is gentle, tinged with humor. And

you surprised everyone else, too.

We called your dad’s to let him know

you were

okay. Someone named

Kortni answered. She said your father

was in jail and as far as she knew,

you were in a foster home in Fresno.

He lets the weight of his words sink

down around us. Was she wrong?

OBVIOUSLY HE KNOWS

She wasn’t wrong. And I’m just