Page 20 of Margo's Got Money Troubles

“Attagirl,” he said. “Can’t go wrong.”

“I’m leaning nachos,” Margo went on, still looking hungrily at the menu. “I can be kind of picky about wings.”

“How do you like your wings?” Kenny seemed delighted, as though it were novel for a girl to like chicken wings.

“I like bone in and no breading. Except for Hooters wings, I make an exception for those.”

“Margo!” Shyanne said.

“Oh, come on,” Margo said, “you love the Hooters wings, and you know it.”

“I will allow,” Kenny said with a twinkle in his eye, “I have had the Hooters wings a time or two, and they are delightful.”

“I’ve never been there,” Shyanne said. Margo just stared. Her mother had worked there for six years. She was beginning to think the problem with Kenny wasn’t Kenny, but whatever phony personality Shyanne seemed determined to project.

When the waitress came, Kenny ordered iced teas for him and Shyanne, as well as an order of chicken wings and beef nachos. Margo clapped her hands in glee. “Oh, I’m so excited!” she said.

It was comforting to be inside an Applebee’s. The faux brick walls, the thickly resined tabletops so glossy and smooth they almost glowed. The service was atrocious; Margo didn’t know how the girl who was their server slept at night. When she brought out the nachos, she stuck her thumb right in the beans. Margo saw her lick it clean as she walked away.

“So tell me again, Kenny,” Margo said, “you work for the church?”

“I’m the youth ministry director,” he said with a big smile, “of Forest Park Community Church. And I love it!”

“Oh, neat!” Margo said, though Kenny was so old and radically uncool that it was hard to imagine what kind of youth he could successfully minister to.

“They have some really great programs, Margo,” Shyanne said. “Lots of plays and stuff.”

“I do love musicals,” Kenny said.

“They even put on Rent,” Shyanne said.

“We’re a pretty liberal bunch,” Kenny offered. “Which is why it was so silly of Shyanne to worry I would somehow judge you for having a child out of wedlock.”

Margo swallowed. There was always something a little creepy about the word wedlock.

“Well,” she said, “I will say, I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, but I don’t think keeping Bodhi was one of them.”

“Amen to that,” Kenny said, and raised his iced tea. “So many people want to get out of the consequences of their own actions nowadays. Don’t you agree?”

The waitress came back and took their orders.

“Most people,” Kenny began when the waitress left, “and feel free to disagree, I’d like to get your opinion on this, Margo, but most people think they’re the victims. They want to order their special latte with no foam or extra whip or caramel what-have-you, and if they don’t get it, suddenly they’re outraged. A lot of girls in your situation would have cried rape! Would have said, ‘But he’s my professor! He should have done this, he shouldn’t have done that.’”

Margo wasn’t sure what Starbucks had to do with anything. “I mean, I do think Mark shouldn’t sleep with his students.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Kenny said. “We are all fallen creatures. The real test is what we do when those chickens come home to roost. Do you try to use a get-out-of-jail-free card, or do you man up and accept the consequences of your actions? You have agency. You have the power to make your life heaven or make your life hell. It’s about the choices that you make.”

“Right,” Margo said. It seemed terribly likely that this was going to continue in a direction that would make her uncomfortable, yet his line of reasoning was not anything she disagreed with exactly.

“I told you we’d get along,” Kenny said to Shyanne, who laughed and looked down at the table.

Her mother was so beautiful. Margo had always thought that, but as she got older, she could see her mother more as the world saw her. When they were alone together, Shyanne was prone to making silly faces, crossing her eyes and sticking out her tongue. Because her eyes were so wide-set, there was something truly reptilian about it, and it made Margo laugh every time. But when she was aware of being looked at, Shyanne held her head differently. Her neck was longer, and she angled her face slightly down as though beauty were a kind of bridle she had to bite down on.

“Which is why,” Kenny began with a rush, “I wanted to ask you to this dinner tonight.”

Margo was aware from his tone that something momentous was going to happen.

Kenny reached across the table and took Shyanne’s hand. “I want to ask for your blessing, Margo. I would like to ask for your mother’s hand in marriage.”

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