Page 21 of Rat Park
“Yeah. It’s short for Florian, which is even more ridiculous than ‘Flor’. Thanks, Mom and Dad,” he said, grinning.
Esteban snorted. “You’re welcome.”
Flor rolled his eyes before turning back to Dominic. “And you’re Dominic.”
“Yeah.”
“Cool.”
Cat tapped on the table before pulling her chair out. “All right you two, time to eat. Dominic, you can sit there,” she said, indicating the chair opposite the one Flor took. Dominic sat down.
The meal was one of the strangest experiences of Dominic’s life so far. He remained silent when Esteban wasn’t engaging him in conversation, observing what a normal family meal was like. It was as if he was revisiting an alien planet he had only seen briefly a long time ago, when he had been fostered by Charlie and Miriam. It made him wonder how his life would have turned out if he had stayed with them. Maybe he would have gotten out like Mason did, or maybe he would have found his way to the hole he’d fallen into anyway.
“But it’sboring,” Flor was saying as Dominic tuned back in.
“History’s important, Flor,” Cat said.
“Pssh, how?” Flor replied, looking at Dominic as if expecting him to back Flor up.
“The past is prologue,” Dominic said. Flor’s eyebrows raised a little.
“You good at history?”
“I don’t know shi—anything about history,” Dominic said, correcting himself from swearing just in time.
“I’m sixteen, you know. You can say ‘shit’ around me.”
“Florian!” Cat admonished. Florian threw Dominic a conspiratorial smile which Dominic made sure not to return. Florian wasn’t discouraged.
“What do you do?” Flor asked him. Dominic frowned slightly.
“Do?”
“For work.”
“Oh. I bag groceries,” he said a little defiantly, feeling suddenly defensive at the ridiculous embarrassment he felt at telling a sixteen-year-old, of all people, that.
“I bet the tips are amazing,” Flor drawled, surprising Dominic into a laugh. People were usually a little weary of Dominic—between his tattoos and his frown—but Flor looked like he would shrug at a tornado. Life hadn’t taught him any differently, Dominic guessed, and he was glad for it.
“What do you like to do then, if not history?” Dominic asked.
“I like science. Biology, mostly.”
Dominic nodded because that seemed right. Normal people were scientists and policewomen and owned bodegas, and junkies like him got to bag their food up.
“Too bad. The tips aren’t so good in biology.”
Flor seemed startled for a moment at Dominic’s deadpan joke before laughing, open and unguarded, like it wasn’t a danger to show what made you happy. Dominic wouldn’t know. When he was sixteen, the only thing that had gotten him close to happiness was the artificial rush of heroin.
Suddenly, as Dominic sat on that foreign planet, watching Flor laugh and his parents smile with him, warm food on the table and their biggest problem a history exam, Dominic wanted to escape. He didn’t want to be privy to this world. He didn’t want to know about what he had never had. He wanted to float away and forget the image of the happy family in front of him.
If the rest of them noticed Dominic’s sudden withdrawal from them, they didn’t comment on it, although Flor threw him a curious look. The meal went on until the pressure inside Dominic eased to its familiar itch.
“Thank you. It was delicious,” Dominic told Esteban truthfully as they finished eating, getting up to help clear the table. It was the best meal he’d had in a very long time.
“You’re welcome, but I hope you’ve left some space for dessert. Flor’s made flan,” Esteban replied.
Flor got up. “I’ll grab it,” he said, heading for the fridge. He took a long tray out and served a portion to each of them as they sat back down with clean plates.
