Page 12 of Turtles All the Way Down

"Did it work?" she asked.

I shrugged again, but she kept looking at me until I gave in and spoke. "I was just thinking about him. Wanted an excuse to check on him, I guess."

"How is he doing, without his father?"

"I think he's okay," I said. "Most people don't seem to like their dads much."

She leaned into me, her shoulder against mine. I knew we were both thinking about my dad, but we had never been good at talking about him. "I wonder if you would have clashed with your father."

I didn't say anything.

"He would've understood you, that's for sure. He got your whys in a way I never could. But he was such a worrier, and you might have found that exhausting. I know I did, sometimes."

"You worry, too," I said.

"I suppose. Mostly about you."

"I don't mind worriers," I said. "Worrying is the correct worldview. Life is worrisome."

"You sound just like him." She smiled a little. "I still can't believe he left us." She said it like it was a decision, like he'd been mowing the lawn that day and thought, I think I'll fall down dead now.

--

I cooked dinner that night, a macaroni scramble with canned vegetables, boxed macaroni, and some proper cheddar cheese, and then we ate while watching a reality show about regular people trying to survive in the wild. My phone finally buzzed while Mom and I were doing the dishes--Daisy telling me she'd arrived at Applebee's--so I told Mom I'd be back by midnight and reunited with Harold, who was, as always, a pure delight.

Applebee's is a chain of mid-quality restaurants serving "American food," which essentially means that Everything Features Cheese. Last year, some kid had showed up on our doorstep and talked my mom into buying a huge coupon book to support his Boy Scout troop or something, and the book turned out to include sixty Applebee's coupons offering "Two burgers for $11." Daisy and I had been working our way through them ever since.

She was waiting for me at a booth, changed out of her work shirt and into a scoop-neck turquoise top, staring into the depths of her phone. Daisy didn't have a computer, so she did everything on her phone, from texting to writing fan fiction. She could type on it faster than I could on a regular keyboard.

"Have you ever gotten a dick pic?" she asked in lieu of saying hello.

"Um, I've seen one," I said, scooting into the bench across from her.

"Well, of course you've see one, Holmesy. Christ, I'm not asking if you're a seventeenth-century nun. I mean have you ever received an unsolicited, no-context dick pic. Like, a dick pic as a form of introduction."

"Not really," I said.

"Look at this," she said, and handed me her phone.

"Yeah, that's a penis," I said, squinting and turning it slightly counterclockwise.

"Right, but can we talk about it for a minute?"

"Can we please not?" I dropped the phone as Holly, our server, appeared at the table. Holly was our server quite regularly, and she wasn't exactly a card-carrying member of the Daisy and Holmesy fan club, possibly on account of our coupon-driven Applebee's strategy and limited resources for tipping.

Daisy spoke up, as she always did. "Holly, have you ever received--"

"Nope," I said. "No no no." I looked up at Holly. "I'd just like a water with no food please, but around nine forty-five I'll take a veggie burger, no mayonnaise no condiments at all, just a veggie burger and bun in a to-go box please. With fries."

"And you'll have the Blazin' Texan burger?" Holly asked Daisy.

"With a glass of red wine, please."

Holly just stared at her.

"Fine. Water."

"I assume y'all have a coupon?" Holly asked.

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